I was used to looking for him as I came out of school, and it was an incredible relief to find him waiting. His reaction when he spotted me was a beautiful combination of pleasure and yearning, quickly dimmed to a more neutral expression, as if he didn’t want me to know how happy he was. Yet he still crossed to me and enfolded me in his arms, not a perfunctory hug but a real one, and I held on tight, heedless of people trickling by.
“Bad day?”
“You could say that.” And it was about to get worse.
I can’t do this to him anymore. In my head, there was a messy jumble of wariness, longing, and suspicion. It wasn’t fair to Kian and I couldn’t handle additional weight on my conscience. Already, my body felt like it was made of glass; the next blow would break me.
In a rush, I blurted my doubts in a single breath. There was no way I could meet his eyes after that. I expected him to stiffen up and shove me away, but he waited until I finished. Then he lifted my chin gently.
“I get it,” he said. “You have no way to be sure of me.”
“Of whether you’re really Kian Riley, one of Wedderburn’s monsters in disguise, or if you’re really loyal—”
He kissed me, quick as a blink. To Wedderburn. Too late, I understood why he couldn’t let me say that out loud.
“Does that answer your question?”
I pretended his kiss had assuaged most of my doubts, beaming up at him.
He went on, “If you want to meet my aunt and uncle, we can do that this weekend. They still live in Pennsylvania, near Scranton. It’d be a long day trip, but doable. And I do have some things that will prove I’m Kian Riley, if that will help.”
“Like what?” Maybe this couldn’t assure me that he wasn’t manipulating me for his boss, but it would help to know he wasn’t some immortal creature in handsome human skin.
Definitely a step in the right direction.
“Old yearbooks for one.”
“They survived the fire at your place?”
“I have a bunch of stuff from my old life in storage. I’m not sure if you noticed, but the cabin wasn’t very—”
“Lived in?”
“Exactly.” He continued, “I can’t prove everything to your satisfaction. Some things you have to take on faith. But … be with me, Edie, or cut me loose. I can’t take not knowing how you’ll treat me from day to day, especially when I’m so far out on the ledge.”
“That’s fair,” I said softly. “Then can we swing by your storage unit? You know everything about me and I only get glimpses of the real you.”
“We’ll go now, if you have time.”
“Thanks.”
I stretched up on my tiptoes and he met me halfway, kissing me with a heat and tenderness that stole my breath along with another chunk of my heart. Maybe it didn’t matter how smart I tried to be, how cautious; in the end, I couldn’t resist him. I wanted so bad for Kian to be the real deal; I didn’t know if it was the fact that he’d saved my life or changed it, and then there was that kiss … I’m afraid I’m falling in love with you. Though I didn’t say it aloud, something must’ve shown in my face because his gaze softened and he smoothed a hand through my hair.
Nothing but shivers.
“Come on, it looks like rain.”
He drove to a storage place on Massachusetts Avenue, built of pale corrugated metal and accented in red. His stuff was upstairs in a long corridor outfitted with identical units. Kian unlocked one halfway down the hall and raised the blue door. Though it was small, no more than five by five, it was only half full. A sure stride carried him toward a box set apart from the others and he sat down, cross-legged, and opened it up.
Unaccountably nervous, I sat down beside him. “What’s this?”
“My school stuff.” He pulled out four yearbooks first and then a sheaf of certificates, a couple of small, dented trophies.
I picked one up and read ACADEMIC BOWL CHAMPION. The other was for BEST ACTOR. “Interesting. I didn’t know you were into drama.” It was troubling to learn that he’d won an award in an area that proved he had the skills to play me. Stop that. You’re here to find reasons to trust him, not doubt more.
Kian touched the gold statuette, wearing a melancholy expression. “It wasn’t my first choice, but I needed to pad my college application; I can’t sing, and I hate team sports. At the time, I didn’t realize how little control over my future I had left. Wedderburn waited until I graduated to spring the news.”
I imagined Kian applying to college, not realizing he’d lost his status as a catalyst and how he must’ve felt when he found out. “Is that standard?”
He nodded. “They have no use for underage agents, too many questions from mortal authorities and irate families.”
“That makes sense.” So I won’t know if I go off track and fail my purpose until I graduate. “And from their perspectives, a year or so doesn’t seem like long to wait.”
“Pretty much.”
Putting aside the trophies, I examined the dates on all the yearbooks and picked up the earliest one. “Freshman year?”
He winced slightly and put his hand on the cover. “Edie—”
“I don’t care, okay? I want to see who you were.”
With a sigh, he pulled back and let me open the book. I flipped through the ninth graders, poring over awkward faces dotted with zits, braces still on, glasses not yet exchanged for contacts. Now and then I spotted the future beautiful people, not because they were already perfect, but they had fewer physical faults to overcome. It made my life easier that the class pictures were alphabetized, so I flipped to the Rs.
There you are.
The other Kian wasn’t heavy, as I half expected. Instead, he was thin to the point of gauntness with thick Coke-bottle lenses and terrible skin. The buzz cut didn’t help; neither did the weirdly patterned button-up shirt with the over-large collar. Looking at this picture, I’d never guess he came from money. He was dressed like he’d bought his clothing at a thrift store. But what really got to me was the dead, hopeless expression in his eyes.
I am alone, that look said. And it will never get better.
A year after this picture was taken, he tried to kill himself.
He shifted, staring up at the ceiling. “It’s bad, I know.”
“You’re still you,” I said. “And … I’d have dated you when you looked like that. If you’d asked me.”
A shiver went through him, relief or pleasure, or I didn’t know what. He put an arm around me and leaned his head against mine. “I would have, if I’d had the nerve. Remember at the diner? Before I optimized you, I said you have pretty eyes and a nice smile. But more important, you’re smart and brave and—God, stop me, before I say something ridiculous.”
I laughed softly. He was a person to me now, one with a sad past and a dark history, but he was real. He wasn’t a monster; he couldn’t be. Not with such awkward, painful signatures in his yearbook that said he had been almost as friendless as me. Most of them read, “To a smart guy” or even more damning, “Have a great summer.” I also noticed he had more comments from teachers than people his own age.
Another thing we have in common.
“You went for the ideal version of yourself, huh?”