Ann Aguirre - Mortal Danger

This is so weird. And backward. Life and death aren’t usually part of a first date.

“What’s your favorite film?” I asked, as he turned to hand me a drink.

“ Casablanca , followed closely by Notorious .”

“You’re a classic movie nerd.” I grinned at him.

“Guilty. I had such a thing for Ingrid Bergman.”

Inside, the theater was small and intimate, decidedly old-fashioned. I loved everything about it. During the movie, Kian wiped his hand on his thigh repeatedly until I solved his apparent inner conflict by threading my fingers through his. He pushed out a soft breath and smiled at me, like I’d solved some weighty calculus problem. This quiet moment made him feel real in a way that making out couldn’t. It was adorable that while he might kiss me a dark car, he was nervous about how I’d react to a public display of affection, even one so mild.

A hundred and ten minutes later, we filed out of the movie while this ineffable realization sang through my veins: I just had an actual date with a guy who agreed it was a date. I could’ve skipped up the steps into the lobby, no lie; it was childish, I realized, but I didn’t care. Silently beaming, I held Kian’s hand as he wove through the crowd.

According to my phone, it was nearly half past eleven. That left him enough time to get me home on time, early even. While I’d like to stay out later, maybe go back to the diner where it all began, I had to keep my parents happy. With so much real danger for them to worry about, though they didn’t know they should be, I couldn’t afford to let them fret over me missing curfew.

“How are things at school?” he asked, as he opened my car door.

His unfailing attention to good manners instituted a whisper of doubt . You still don’t know for sure that he’s Kian Riley. He loves old movies. He behaves like a courtly gentleman. Everything about him could be a lie. Distrust hurt, forcibly piercing my happy glow like spikes of ice. Maybe … he’s one of them.

Still, I tried not to show my sudden apprehension. “It doesn’t feel like I expected. I hate being a bitch. And … one of the girls is really sick.”

“Brittany?”

My blood chilled, frosty fingers tapping at the base of my skull. “How do you know?”

“You mentioned visiting her at the hospital.”

Did I? I remembered talking to my dad about it, but I couldn’t recall having that conversation with Kian. No, I sent a text, but— Is he still watching me ? Or is the explanation even worse? This constant suspicion meant that I couldn’t even be certain the thoughts belonged to me. What if the opposition was blighting me through some kind of gizmo like the Oracle interface Wedderburn had shown me?

I decided to be honest. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t name her when I messaged you.”

“It’s still my job to look out for you,” he said quietly.

“So after I told you I didn’t need a ride, you came to the hospital? That’s—”

“Creepy, I know.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Wedderburn sent me. The watch tracks if I follow orders, remember?”

Given what I knew of his boss, that was probably true. That doesn’t mean I like it.

“Then why did you bother asking about school if you’re stalking me?”

He swallowed hard, visibly hurt. “Because I wanted to hear your thoughts and feelings, Edie. I can only tell so much from surveillance.” His jaw clenched. “You already know I’ve spent a long damn time watching you. From the outside.”

I registered his anger, but I couldn’t respond right away. Too many thoughts were whirling in my head, demanding to be heard. Eventually I let the issue drop by saying, “When I went to see Brittany, she looked awful, and none of her family was there. No friends, either.” It wasn’t full acceptance or forgiveness of him creeping around behind my back, but right then, it was the best I could do.

Kian sounded subdued. “It’s one thing when you’re alone and you always have been. You get used to it. But to have the awareness dumped on you—your only value is your pretty face, and if you don’t have that anymore, what good are you? That’s rough.”

I recollected telling him how I felt about her, dumping it all over him that night on the shore. I’d said, But I look at Brittany, who held the camera, and I think, What would it take to break you? Would I have to mess up her face?

Damn. And just look at her now.

That possibility chilled me more than the semi-stalking on boss’s orders. I shook my head, shivering a little. There was just no way. Sometimes bad things happen, nothing to do with you. Allergic reaction, bacterial infection. If karma is real, then Brit’s getting what she put into the universe, that’s all.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “But honestly, she’s not the worst. I still hate Cameron more than anyone, and this week, Russ was an absolute asshole. Like, he has no redeeming features I can see, he’s just a waste of oxygen.”

I wanted so bad to believe Kian had nothing to do with any of this, and Wedderburn didn’t either. He asked me if I wanted him to take revenge for me. I said no. What more can I do? My lack of power in this situation could easily drive me crazy. It’s fine, when nothing happens to Russ and Cam, I’ll know Kian is innocent.

“You’ll get them all in time.”

I shivered. He didn’t mean ‘get’ how it sounded.

With suspicion echoing in my head, I was quiet the rest of the way, watching the clock on his dash tick toward midnight. He parked the car at thirteen minutes ’til and then he shifted, facing me. I didn’t want to make out when I was so confused; I had the crazy idea that he’d be able to taste the difference. So I leaned over, kissed his cheek and said good night, before he could ask why I was blowing him off, after I’d practically asked him to be my boyfriend earlier.

“I’ll see you Monday,” I said with false cheer.

After scrambling out of the car, I glanced over my shoulder. I’d been able to refrain when we were running from the Oracle but Kian offered more temptation than I could resist; the streetlamps painted him in gold and shadow, but it did nothing to mask the forlorn cast of his face. He raked a hand through his hair and then started the car. I hurried into the brownstone before he noticed I was watching. It was nuts that I could be so conflicted about him, but the merest hint of pain in his eyes and I wanted to race back and hug him so hard it hurt. The two of us were like magnets with the same charge. No matter how much I wanted to be close to him, circumstances kept shoving us apart.

Not surprisingly, my parents were still awake when I let myself in. My mom glanced up from her notebook, scrawled margin to margin full of complex calculations. “Did you have a good time?”

“Yeah. We went to see Enter the Dragon in Harvard Square.” I’d found that volunteering information was the best way to forestall more questions.

Dad glanced up. “Oh, that’s a good one. Did you know it was chosen as culturally significant and has been preserved in the National Film Registry?”

I grinned, relieved that some things never changed. Trivia was my dad’s thing, usually science related— did you know, Edith, that there’s a wasp that turns cockroaches into zombies and lays eggs in their living bodies? No, I did not. Upon learning that, I promptly Googled the jewel wasp and then spent the night shivering under my covers. Occasionally he popped up with interesting facts in other fields. Entertainment was a new one.

With a grin, I remembered how he used to run D&D campaigns for Mom and me when I was in junior high. Back then, I didn’t mind as much that my primary social interaction came from my parents. I was sure it hurt them when I withdrew, but it was hard to hang with them after I started high school and realized that no matter what I did, Mildred and Alan Kramer would be my only option for weekend and evening entertainment.