One year later.
"A little more to the right," the female said, "a little more, just a lii –"
Kevin felt the bang on his bed as it hit the wall. "Mom!" He complained. "If you're going to guide us, you have to do it properly!"
"Oh, I'm sorry, son, I wasn't aware I was supposed to become a guidance system when I decided to have a child." Aurora's voice was dripping with sarcasm. Kevin rolled his eyes while adjusting the heavy bed in his arms. "I told you we should've just gone with movers," Aurora continued.
"There, there, my love, we can manage," Henry, Aurora's husband and Kevin's father, puffed from further up the stairs, holding onto the other end of the bed.
Kevin had finally graduated from pre-health at Johns Hopkins University and had accepted a college in New York, Albert Einstein College of Medicine, to be exact. He was excited about this new chapter in his life. To finally get accepted to a good college in his pursuit of becoming a doctor, and to live on his own for the very first time in his life. If he just hadn't chosen a building without an elevator... luckily, it was only the second floor they needed to reach.
"Ready dad?" Kevin asked as he readjusted his grip on the bed.
"About as ready as I'll ever be, son."
They had reached just about halfway up the stairs when a door on the first floor opened, and a person stepped out. Familiar eyes met familiar eyes as a shocked Michael turned around. "Mrs. Heart? Mr. Hart?" He exclaimed. "Kevin? What are you doing here?" He asked as he pulled out his EarPods that were blasting his favorite workout music. He was surprised, possibly shaken to his core, to see the familiar faces outside his apartment, with a bed between them, nonetheless.
"Is that you, Michael?" Henry asked, just as surprised. He and Kevin carefully put down the bed while Aurora walked down the flight of stairs to the first floor to greet the long-lost boy. Man, she corrected herself.
"It's so good to see you, Michael, but what are you doing here?" Aurora asked while hugging the young man.
"I live here," Michael explained, his pulse speeding up as he caught eyes with Kevin. God, he hadn't seen him for a year. A whole year.
"You do?!" Aurora exclaimed while her hands flew to her mouth. "Kevin is just moving in here, one floor above you, actually. Can you imagine that?"
Michael couldn't.
He really couldn't.
What are the fucking odds? He wondered as he shook hands with Henry and then Kevin. The hand of the young man he seemed to have grown into this last year was warm and smooth. With his slightly ruffled blond hair, eyes green like freshly cut grass, and lips full and pink, he looked amazing, if somewhat out of breath. He was rather tall too and had gained a couple of muscles since Michael last had seen him. He wasn't as tall or as muscly as Michael, but now they could at least have a fairer fight, would they ever end up in one. "Imagine that," he murmured while Kevin scratched the back of his head.
"I-I just got accepted into Albert Einstein College of Medicine," Kevin explained.
"Wow, that's-that's amazing. Congratulations."
A pink rose colored Kevin's cheeks in an instant. "Thank you," he mumbled while staring holes on his bed.
Mike's eyes followed his over to the bed. "Do you guys need any help?" He found himself asking before he had time to change his mind.
"Oh, we wouldn't want to bother you –" Aurora began.
"It's no bother, I promise. I was just about to go for a jog, but this seems like a much better workout," he smiled and quickly stretched his arms before pointing at the bed. He walked over to Henry's side and looked at Kevin, the guy whose cheeks now started to look like ripe tomatoes. "You ready?" Kevin quietly nodded his head. On three, they lifted the bed and not with too much unease, they managed to carry it up to the second floor and into the apartment above Michael's. "You're really moving in just above me, aren't you?"
YOU ARE READING
Incendiary Hearts
ChickLitKevin Hart and Michael Greene have a shared history that runs deep. Yet, being the best friend to Kevin's older brother comes with an immense weight of responsibility, especially when faced with the irreplaceable loss of that friend. Handling such...