Changed

Chapter Nineteen

KYLEIGH'S POV

The next week was hell for me. I hated not speaking to Cory, but he betrayed me, and I wasn’t putting up with it. He definitely tried, though. Every time he saw me, he tried to talk to me. And every time I rejected his approach was so painful for me. I wanted so badly to just give in and just talk to him again… feel his warmth again… especially seeing how determined he was. I finally realized how hurt he was, though, when his brother came up to me at school the Tuesday of the week after I told him to rack off… it had been one week and one day. 

“The elusive Kyleigh Hawthorne,” he teased.

“Yes, Conner?” I replied, smiling at his silliness. I couldn’t help it… it was just natural. 

“Just wondering why you aren’t speaking to my, oh, so depressed brother. He is bringing me down, and that is hard to do,” he said. My smile faded.

“He betrayed me. I don’t tolerate traitors.”

“Well, you should give him another chance. You might be surprised at what you find out.”

“No, Conner. He doesn’t deserve it.”

“I’m just tired of seeing him mope around the house, all sad and shit. He’s acting like our dog died. And we don’t have a fucking dog!” he said. 

“Moping around, huh? So tell me, how did he enjoy Lauren’s party last Friday, huh?” I asked, countering. 

“He didn’t even go.”

“Wait… what?”

“He… didn’t… go,” he enunciated slowly. “He didn’t want to go if you wouldn’t go with him.” I looked down, taken by surprise.

“But… I saw his Jeep leave…”

“That was me. He let me borrow it. He told me how you said you didn’t take your Audi to parties because you don’t want some drunk-ass puking all over it, and that I should take a page out of your book, so he let me borrow it.” I shook my head. 

“Just because he didn’t go to the party doesn’t mean he’s off the hook for betraying me.” I walked away from him, and even that broke my heart because Conner had come to be like the brother I never had.

That day when I got home, I read the newspaper and found an employment ad for a tattoo artist at a parlor only a few minutes from my house. The interview times were for that Tuesday and Friday, 3-6 p.m. I ran upstairs, grabbed my art portfolio, and left. 

“Yes?” the bored looking girl at the desk asked me. She had short black hair, a sleeve on one arm, and several piercings. 

“I’m Kyleigh. I’m here for an interview.”

“Mm-hmm. Hold on.” She pressed a button and it buzzed.

“Yes?” a voice said out of a little speaker.