Page 31 of P.S. I'm Still Yours
“It shouldn’t be like this.”
I hear the words he’s saying, but I don’t understand them. “What are you talking about?”
He pins me with a look that makes me shiver. “Your first kiss. The way you think is bullshit.”
He shocks me by pushing past me and slamming the door behind him, trapping us together in the bathroom.
My lungs constrict the air in them, squeezing tighter and tighter the closer he gets.
I raise a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means your first kiss shouldn’t happen because you’re trying to prove something to your shitty friends. It shouldn’t be something you want to get out of the way, and it sure as hell shouldn’t happen with some guy you just met.”
I’m shocked by his outburst.
“If not some guy I just met, then who? Maybe I could ask my friend Kane.” I fake gasp. “Oh wait, I already did.”
“That’s not…” He exhales a breath. “Look, all I’m saying is it should be a bigger deal. Fuck what your friends think. Fuck what everybody thinks. Their opinions don’t matter.”
The last part of his sentence irritates me.
“Their opinion don’t matter? Pretty ironic coming from the guy who’s too scared to share his gift with the world, don’t you think?”
He smacks his mouth shut at my comeback.
“You’re lecturing me about not caring what people think when you can’t even tell your own mom you love music. Why can’t you just stop hiding?”
His jaw clenches. “I… Don’t change the subject.”
I know this isn’t fair, but I’m so mad I can’t think straight. Kane’s dad basically rewired his brain into thinking singing was a waste of time.
Years and years of abuse made Kane think that wanting to play music was pathetic and that writing songs would never get him anywhere in life.
I can’t blame him for needing a second to believe in himself again, but reading his lyrics and hearing him sing knowing that he might never do anything with that voice makes me want to scream.
I know in my bones that Kane was put on this earth to be an artist. Why can’t he?
“What are you so afraid of?” I can tell this is a sensitive topic by the way he glares at me. “If I were you, I’d be sharing my talent with everyone.”
“Well, then, it’s a good thing you’re not me.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
He plays dumb. “What question?”
“What are you so afraid of?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“Isn’t it? Because as your friend, it is my business whether or not you’re—”
“Stop,” he warns.
I keep pushing. “Are you going to let your dad ruin the rest of your life?”
That’s when he erupts. “I said it’s none of your business. For fuck’s sake, Hadley!”
He swings the bathroom door open and storms off before I can answer. I shouldn’t have gone there, but listening to him lecture me about being a people pleaser when he has a bunch of issues he needs to resolve himself is pushing my buttons.