Charis
I was curled up on Kael's bed, watching him at his reading table with growing curiosity and lazily tossing popcorn into my mouth.
It was his idea for me to stay on his bed; he wanted to be sure I was in his line of vision, and I thought it was funny.
It was nearly 9 pm, and he was hunched over his textbook, but I noticed he was barely turning the pages—the same observation I'd made in the cafeteria earlier. That small notebook from before was positioned next to him, and every few minutes, he would glance between it and the textbook, tracing words with his finger like he was trying to decode some secret message.
Several times, I wanted to walk over and ask if he needed help, but something held me back. Even I could tell something wasn't right, and with the way he was trying so hard to look focused, I suggested this was deeply personal territory I shouldn't intrude upon without invitation.
Or maybe because my mind had been drifting back to Rhett—and the kiss.
