Sunlight

Chapter Five

Bring On The Dancing Horses // Echo & The Bunnymen

Pete

With my hand on the small of her back, I lead Kyra in gentle circles on the dance floor. The music has been subdued, romantic rather than fast paced and frantic, so I use it to my advantage. Halfway through the song, I tilt my head to look into her eyes. I'm surprised to find her face frozen with a look of confusion.

"What are you thinking about?" I ask.

"I'm trying to decide if you hit your head."

I rear back. "What do you mean?"

Kyra rolls her eyes. "I need an explanation for your personality makeover. Is it amnesia? Is it traumatic injury? Will the real Slim Shady please stand up?"

I laugh. "I didn't have a personality makeover."

"Whatever. Say what you've got to say. I want to go sit down."

Wow. She's still frosty after all these years. I take a deep breath and dive right in.

"We made a mistake years ago."

Kyra rolls her eyes. "Are you serious? That's not new information. You've just repackaged old garbage as if it were a shiny new toy to match your shiny new personality."

I take an exaggerated look around the room, hunting for my so-called new personality. "What are you talking about? I'm the same piece of shit I've always been."

That shuts her up. Jaw dropped, she stares back at me.

"What happened to arrogant, dude-gets-around, Pete? This is what I'm talking about. Four years ago, you never would have referred to yourself as a piece of shit."

"Newsflash, I did it all the time." Always in my head. A daily mantra. But never out loud.

"No, you didn't. You were all, 'I'm a player taking names. Women fall over themselves to get to me.' You bragged about how many you bagged."

Another deep breath has me dropping my forehead onto Kyra's shoulder. That was the mask I wore, apparently a little too well. She shrugs me off and shoves me back slightly, although there isn't much power behind it.

"Get a grip."

"I'm not the only one with a personality change. You've become a barracuda." I smirk, loving the tough side of her that's come out. "Razor sharp bites."

Kyra leans in closer as I continue turning us on the dancefloor. I wonder if anyone notices the lighting zapping between us. She grits her teeth and talks without moving her lips.

"It's called a survival skill. Self-preservation when faced with a deadly threat."

"I'm not a threat."

"Oh, aren't you?" She scoffs. "We shared a kiss four fucking years ago, a hot kiss if memory serves, and you proceeded to ignore me for a year. Then, when I finally forced a confrontation, you moved away, Pete." Her gaze narrows while her voice drops. "You.moved.away."

Her voice cracks like it did on the fateful day in question. It's barely discernible. I'm positive no one else would have noticed. But I've been hyper aware of everything 'Kyra' for years, so I do. I cringe when a single tear breaches the edge of her eyelid and begins its trek down her cheek.

"Ky," I breathe her name, not knowing what else to say when she clearly hasn't forgiven me. Not yet.

"Don't." She shakes her head and pulls away. "Don't act like now you care. Don't pretend you didn't shred what little self-respect I had that day. Don't say words you'll never truly mean. I'm strong. But I'm not that strong. Not up here. Not in Salt Creek."