Page 37 of Finding Kyler
“I’m glad to hear it. He’s such a good boy.” She puts her arm around my shoulder and steers me into the kitchen.
Keanu shows me shots from his latest photo shoot while Alex heats up the soup Greta left for us. She places bowls on the table, leaning over to admire the frames. “Keanu is a natural in front of the camera.”
“I can tell,” I admit. “Who’s the girl?” I point at an absolutely breathtaking girl with midnight-black hair. Her sultry brown eyes are locked on Keanu, and their chemistry pops off the page.
“That’s Selena. She’s no one.” Keanu’s tone is clipped.
Alex musses up his hair, and he scowls, instantly whipping his hand up to smooth it back in place. “That’s not very nice.”
“She’s a work colleague,” he supplies, before turning his head to his mother. “Is that better?”
“Keanu, please.” Alex sounds tired.
“You started it,” he huffs immaturely, gathering the photos into a neat pile. “I’m going to hang with Keaton and Kent for a while before bed.”
Alex and I eat our soup in silence after that.
After I’ve rinsed my bowl, I make my goodbyes, grateful to escape to the sanctity of my bedroom.
I’m dressed in pajamas, sitting up cross-legged on my bed, chatting with Jill and Rachel when Kalvin comes barging into my room. I place the phone on top of my bedside locker, and sigh. Sliding off the bed, I hop up and take his hand. “I want to show you something.” I drag him out of the room and pull the door shut behind me.
“You see this wooden thingy here?” I point at the door. “It’s called a door. If it’s closed, it means the person inside wants privacy. In polite societies, people do this thing called knocking. It goes like this”—I rap my knuckles against the door—“and you only open the door when the person inside says you can come in. Comprende?”
Kalvin laughs. “You’re too funny.”
“Did I make my point?”
“Loud and clear.” He grins, giving me a two-fingered salute.
I open the door, but he grabs my wrist and pulls me back. “What now?”
“No one said ‘come in.’”
“Oh my God! You’re infuriating!” I slap him about the head, and he laughs again.
We walk into my room, and he flings himself on the bed, sprawling spread-eagled across the length of it. “Make yourself at home, why don’t ya.”
“Happy to,” he says with a saucy wink.
I throw the pillow at him. “Was there a reason for your visit?”
He slaps a hand across his bare chest. “Ouch. That hurt. Here I am trying to be a good cousin, and you shoot me down the minute I walk in.” He’s teasing, but there’s something serious at the back of it too.
“Spill. What’s going on?” I perch on the edge of the bed.
“Hey. Stop robbing all my lines!”
“You do know it’s virtually impossible to have any kind of normal conversation with you?”
“Normal is boring.”
I shove his legs aside. “You are the furthest from boring that I know.”
“Now I feel much better. You have redeemed yourself in spectacular fashion.” He leans back a little, giving me some space. “I did want to ask you something.” An earnest expression emerges on his face.
“Okay.”
“Did something go down at the diner tonight?”
