Because that’s all it is—her pretending. She can’t hate me any more than I could ever hate her.
It’s just not possible.
I rest my head against hers and close my eyes.
I haven’t slept in days.
The first night here I couldn’t sleep because I was thinking about the kiss.
The next two nights I couldn’t sleep because Nova wasn’t there.
It was better dwelling on that than my mom, though. That’s a sure way to put me in a foul mood.
Eventually, I drift off to sleep, and when I wake up, we’re touching down.
Nova jerks away and lets out a scream, her sleep-rattled mind not realizing what’s happening.
I wrap my arms around her and draw her close. “Nova,” I plead. “Nova,” I say again sternly when I worry she’s about to burst into tears. Wild and frantic brown eyes meet mine. “We’re landing,” I tell her. “Everything is okay.”
Her breaths are uneven but I can see her processing my words. After a moment, she nods and wiggles out of my hold.
I miss her already.
The plane taxis in and once it’s docked we grab our bags and head out.
We say goodbye to our friends before splitting off from the group, where they head to the garage and we head out to the parking lot.
Nova is quiet and withdrawn. There’s so much more I want to say. I want to push her and see how far I can bend her before she really snaps, because her anger is better than her silence.
But for now, I opt not to say anything.
I’m biding my time.
After all, don’t they say good things come to those who wait?
For once in my life I’m going to fucking wait.
Or try, at least.
We reach my truck, and I unlock the ancient thing.
My dad with his fancy foreign sports cars is horrified by my truck, but I don’t give a fuck.
It’s yet another thing he can add to his endless list of things I’ve screwed up.
I toss my bag in the space behind the seats and Nova does the same. She buckles her seatbelt and looks steadfastly out the window.
I start the truck and turn the music off; I don’t have any interest in listening to it right now.
Sunlight filters between the clouds and I marvel at the mountains in the distance. It doesn’t matter that I’ve lived here my whole life, I’m still filled with awe every time I look at them.
We reach the apartment, and before Nova can hop out, I lock the doors.
“That’s childish.” She glares at me.
The lock on that side is broken, and it won’t unlock until I push the button.
“Maybe so,” I agree. “But I want to talk.”