Noel

Kinsley is late.

We were supposed to leave for the ranch twenty minutes ago. While I'm waiting, I send a quick text to Gramps. He'll go ballistic if he isn't aware of us being late.

Without a knock, the door bursts open. Kinsley comes flying in. A duffel bag is slung over her shoulder. As is a purse. Her phone is in one hand. The other holds a tote bag.

"I'm so sorry," she says. "I couldn't find my notebook. It got mixed up with some of Tristan's belongings."

"It's okay," I shrug. "We're not in a hurry."

She apologizes again. I shrug again, watching as she sits down on Cole's bed. There aren't many bags with her, which surprises me. Not because she's a woman, but because most first-year university students over pack. I sure as hell did. Cole almost throttled me when we had to unpack fifteen boxes of my shit.

I gesture to her belongings. "That's all you have? We're good to go?"

"I'm a minimalist," she replies. Her voice is rough with defence. "I only bring belongings I know I'll need."

Raising my hands in a surrender motion, I climb to my feet. "Hey. I was just making sure."

"Where's Cole?" she asks.

Her abrupt change of subject catches me off-guard, allowing for jealousy to rise into the back of my throat. I shove the jealousy away. It aggravates me. Being interested in a woman who hates me is unfair. It's the world's version of a cruel joke. But I refuse to push Kinsley. Her heart and mind decide what she wants. Not me. If she wants Cole, I'll support that.

"He went to visit his family."

"In England?" she asks.

I shake my head. "His parents and little brother live in Calgary."

"Oh," she says. Disappointment saturates her tone. "I was hoping to see him before leaving."

Leaning over, I grab her duffle bag and sling it over my shoulder. Despite the jealousy, I flash her my best encouraging smile. "You'll see him soon. He'll be joining us in about a week."

"You don't need to carry my bags,"

I wave it off. "Not a big deal. I'm parked halfway across campus. Last night's show went later than expected. I think it's fair I carry the bags."

Kinsley reaches for the strap of her bag. Her knuckles brush the skin of my shoulder. Today was the wrong day to wear a muscle shirt.

"You're already giving me a place to stay for the summer. You don't need to do anything else for me."

I turn away from Kinsley. Damn, she's stubborn. She makes it so difficult for someone to express care or concern. "Why do you have such a problem with people being kind? Sometimes, they do it out of the goodness of their hearts. They expect nothing back."

If Kinsley didn't do the same with Cole, I wouldn't have said anything. But even he can't seem to figure her out. Though, I must admit, she's a helluva lot more lenient with him.

Kinsley retracts her hand and bites her lip, looking away. Her cheeks turn a faint shade of pink. "Let's go," she mumbles. Tugging at the strap of her purse, she heads for the door.

Gazing at the popcorn ceiling, I exhale my frustrations. It's hard to be nice when someone's always on edge. The more she butts heads with me, the more I want to snap.

Flicking the lights off, I follow Kinsley out of the dorm room, locking it behind me. Cole will stop by before joining us on the farm. If I've forgotten anything, I know he'll grab it.

"Where are your bags?" Kinsley asks.

"In the truck already. I couldn't sleep last night. Instead of trying to count sheep, I loaded up the truck."

She nods, pressing her lips together.

"So," I continue. "Have you ever stayed on a farm before?"

"No," she replies. Her gaze flicks to mine. "I'm not some city girl that needs pampering. My family is very outdoorsy and I love to get my hands dirty. So I don't need your warnings about how farm-living is nothing like city-living, okay?"

I've had enough.

Stopping, I drop Kinsley's bag to the ground. It lands with a soft thump. Normally, I'd partake in dramatic excursions in privacy. Not today. Kinsley is pissing me off. I've done nothing wrong. She knows it. I know it.

"What the hell is your problem?" I ask. "All I've done is be nice. I'm trying to keep the conversation light. We're staying on the same property for at least a month, Kinsley. Quit shutting me down. Maybe return the effort instead? Lay off a little? I don't know! Christ. Just be nice. I've given you no reason to disrespect me. Just like you haven't given me a reason to disrespect you."

The words tumble out of my mouth. At the end of my rant, I have to take a deep breath. My heart is thumping like crazy. It's as if I've run a marathon. This is going to blow up in my face or Kinsley will understand.

Kinsley stares at me. Her are lips parted. Eyes wide with shock. "I-I..." she stutters.

Frustrated, I scoop up her bag and push out into the warm spring air. A gentle breeze tickles the scruff on my jaw. I hoist the bag over my shoulder and take a sharp left. There was some exaggeration when I told Kinsley I was parked far away. My truck isn't halfway across campus. It's one parking lot over.

I make a beeline for it, giving Kinsley some time to process my words. What's happened to her is still a mystery. The rare times she'll go out, she refuses to indulge in the past. If she ever does, she's vague about it. I'll cut her some slack. Discussing your past isn't always comfortable. Still, it doesn't give her the right to be condescending.

A bead of sweat drips down my temple. The sun's rays are beating down on me. These temperatures aren't normal for April, but I'm not complaining. Summer is when I come alive. I love the scorching heat, the smell of dry wheat fields, and the dusky nights where the breeze is warm and the stars are bright. Summer makes me feel more like myself than I have in years.

Behind me, I can hear the shuffling of Kinsley's shoes. Converse, as usual. She once told me she'll wear them until the soles no longer exist. There's an urge to turn around and talk to her. I resist it. She can start the next conversation we have.

For the next five minutes, we pass a few buildings and some picnic areas. Large groups of students occupy these grassy areas. They're saying their last goodbyes for the summer, promising to stay in touch until next year. Graduates are crying. Parents are taking photos or picking up their kids.

Once again, that jealousy returns. Wonder what it's like to have parents that love you.

At the crosswalk, Kinsley catches up to me. She rests a hand on my shoulder. I press my lips into a flat line. Fucking muscle shirt.

"Noel."

Letting her bag slide to the ground, I turn around, arms crossed. Her light cyan-coloured eyes are full of regret. My stomach clenches in response. Her look is too relatable. Too familiar. It's the same one I see whenever I look in the mirror. Guilt, regret, sorrow; everything I feel thanks to my stupidity.

I shove that deep down in my gut, sealing it away. I can't let Kinsley find out. Who knows what she'll think of me. She'd consider me a murderer. As everyone should. It's my fault those people died.

"I'm sorry," she says. "Making friends isn't easy. I'm not good at it."

"I never noticed," I mutter. I expel that sentence beneath my breath so Kinsley can't hear it. Straightening my posture, I shrug. "It's fine. Whatever. Just... this'll be relaxing. The farm is great. And I'm not saying this because I'm biased."

Her smile is half-hearted. "Okay."

We stand on the sidewalk, caught up in the awkward tension. The awkwardness I feel isn't because of Kinsley's presence. No, it's awkward because I'm unsure of what to do next. Or say. She contradicts herself in every way. I'm scared that if I make a caring gesture, she'll lose it. I'm also scared that if I do nothing, she'll take offence at it.

So I opt for something odd, something considered being childish.

I hold out my pinky finger.

She frowns at me.

I keep my hand suspended in the air. By doing this, I'm giving her a choice. A choice to accept the caring gesture or decline it. This way, I won't be in the wrong. I'm giving her the power she's entitled to.

With hesitance, Kinsley links her pinky finger around mine.

Pulling my mouth to one side, I give her a subtle nod. "You won't regret this."

Sorrow fills her eyes as she looks away. She doesn't move her finger from mine, though. "I hope you're right."

The timidness of her voice breaks my heart. Many times, I've seen this same look of sorrow in her eyes. While it piques my curiosity, it also scares me. Loss is never easy to deal with. I lost my dad to addiction. I lost my mom because of Dad's addiction. They're both alive, but they no longer play a role in my life. That's worst part about loss. Loss can come in so many forms.

Blinking, I clear my head of these thoughts and flash her a smile.

Her returned smile is weak.

Kinsley thinks this action represents a truce. That's not the case. It's me making a promise. Enduring the days where everything feels hopeless is horrible. Letting your life waste away when you have potential is horrible. Whoever gave emotions so much power is horrible.

My silent promise to Kinsley is this:

I will not let her go a day without smiling.

No matter what's happened in her life, Kinsley deserves to smile.