It's funny how one life-changing event could make you forget what happiness felt like.

Kyle must have seen my panic, because when I looked up at him again, his jacket and shirt were off and he was handing me his shirt. The sight of him with no shirt on hit me. Holy hell, what was he doing?

Uh, got into a fight with the kitchen or something?” he asked, smirking. I ran my hands through my hair and felt remains of the fruit as I did and cringed. Well, this must be attractive. I motioned for him to come into the living room and shut the door behind him.“Something like that,” I replied coolly. He walked past me and went to the kitchen, probably to get a better look. “Well, I see you won. The fruit won’t be going anywhere anytime soon. Maybe the apples. Those look like they need some more killing.

There is a flaw to your plan.” A sly grin crept onto his face once again. My eyebrow arched at him questioningly.“I live across the street,” he told me; and, without another word, he turned around toward his house. Then I realized what he’d meant. I’d told my problems to a stranger I would probably see again.

I’m not fragile,” I teased and kissed him harder. I supposed my bruise would say otherwise, but I didn’t want to be treated like I was going to shatter if someone touched me.

I was about to sit down when Kyle’s hand wrapped around my left wrist lightly and pulled up my arm. The suddenness of his touch was startling. I looked at him, confused, and saw fire in his eyes—raw anger I didn’t understand. His eyes looked up at me and penetrated mine.

There is a flaw to your plan.” A sly grin crept onto his face once again. My eyebrow arched at him questioningly. “I live across the street,” he told me; and, without another word, he turned around toward his house and I realized what he meant. I told my problems to a stranger that I would probably see again.