Ruthless Love (Ash and Innocence 1)

I nodded. “Sounds delicious.” It actually made my stomach queasy with the memory of last time I’d tasted it, but I was on my best behavior.

Kennedy gestured to the dish on the table. “I hope you like this. It was kind of adventurous. I watched a YouTube video and it looked really good, but this was my first time actually trying to make it.”

I pursed my lips. “You’re quite the chef.”

She smiled in that universal way that said she believed she was, too, but didn’t want to look boastful. While her mom was in the kitchen, I bent down, stealing a quick kiss. She always tasted so incredibly good.

Lately, it felt I was a faulty piece of machinery. Like the pressure release valve had gotten stuck, and the only thing that let me vent out steam was being with Kennedy—touching her.

She smiled but frowned slightly. “Have you been drinking?”

Okay. Two things helped me let off steam. That was the other one. “Just a little to help keep myself behaved for tonight.”

Her smile was tight, but she busied herself serving up a plate of the food for me. It looked like sheets of lasagna in a creamy Alfredo sauce with mushrooms and a clear vegetable I didn’t recognize.

“So, what is this?”

Her mom returned, setting the glass of sweet tea beside me a little roughly. “Thank you,” I said.

“It’s a wine sauce, sort of,” Kennedy said, making her mom a plate and then herself as she talked. “And chunks of sausage. Three kinds of cheese. Heavy cream… Some other stuff.” She gave an adorable little shrug, then wheeled her chair to the spot across from me.

“So, Tristan,” her mom said, showing no interest in her food. “What are you two doing, exactly?”

I raised my eyebrows. I wasn’t exactly sure how to answer that question diplomatically. Did she mean literally? Figuratively? I took a bite of the food to stall. “We’re getting along great.”

She stared for a few seconds without responding.

Kennedy smiled suddenly. “Tristan is a really amazing writer, mom. He helped me with my English essay. I even got an ‘A+.’ Without his extra help, I think it might have just been an ‘A’, at best.”

I nearly choked on the sip of tea I was taking. I almost didn’t notice the slightly strange, bitter taste. I couldn’t remember if I’d tasted that the first time, but decided the stuff was so horrible I probably just hadn’t noticed it over the cardboard sweetness.

“Is that right?” Her mom asked. “So, you two are spending time together at school?”

“After school,” Kennedy said. “He tutors in the library, and he was just giving me a little help.”

Kennedy’s mom motioned to my tea. “If you don’t drink your tea, I’m going to be offended.”

I grabbed the glass and took a few chugs. I tried my best not to wince at the sweet, bitter taste, and mostly succeeded. “So good,” I said, choking a little and coughing.

She didn’t seem bothered by my reaction. Finally, she cut herself a bite of the food and made a small grunt of approval.

We made passing attempts at small talk for the rest of the meal, and I nearly had a panic attack when I’d finally finished my glass of sweet tea, only to have Kennedy’s mom get up and fill me another. She made sure I finished it, too. I thought maybe it was some twisted form of hazing and decided to just suck it up and deal with it, even though the bitter taste was hanging in my mouth and making Kennedy’s meal taste horrible, too.

I felt like I’d been through the ringer by the time the food was done.

“I was thinking Tristan and I could watch a movie before he goes, if—”

Her mom stood, grabbing our plates. “Not tonight. You need your rest.”

“Mom, it’s barely seven.”

“And you have school tomorrow.”

Deciding to win a few points, I joined in on her mom’s side. “It’s okay, Kennedy. I’ll see you at school tomorrow, okay?”

Kennedy looked like she still wanted to argue, but she finally nodded her agreement. “Okay.” She pushed her chair toward me and hugged me. Logistically speaking, it was unfortunate that the relative height of her in the chair meant she basically pressed the side of her face against my crotch.

I swallowed, meeting the eyes of Kennedy’s mom at the worst possible moment, too. She looked like she was trying to find out if she could psychically blow my head up by sheer force of will.

As much as I normally would’ve enjoyed rubbing something like this in her face, I really wanted it to work with Kennedy. So I didn’t do any of the things my instincts were itching for me to do—like bend down and shove my tongue down Kennedy’s throat or make some kind of crude comment.

“Thanks so much for dinner,” I said instead.