Kiera Cass - The Siren

A foreign, sparkling feeling was rising in my chest. I’d been nineteen long enough to observe other boys this age. I knew that romances were many and fleeting and that this attention couldn’t last. Still, it was a magical feeling, and I was grateful once again for this boy I barely knew.

I felt like I understood Elizabeth on a new level. She craved a physical connection, and she achieved it as best she could. Miaka spent hours typing to people on her computer or phone, wanting to connect intellectually. That was what made them feel alive. Me? I’d been slaving away for the Ocean, hoping that at the end of it all, I’d find a romantic connection in my future life.

Truth was, there was no way to be sure I could get it. But as I sat there under the tree, something became clear. I wasn’t worried. I wasn’t sad. I wasn’t even thinking that far into the future, because all I could think of was each minute with Akinli as it happened. Maybe the key for me to move forward wasn’t to eliminate everything I was feeling; maybe all I needed to do was focus on the one feeling that made all the others seem small.

I pulled out my phone, laughing at how useless this thing was for me. I did research on it or distracted myself with it more than anything. Under my contacts were three numbers, and Aisling’s wasn’t even current.

I typed in the new one, fingers hesitating.

Akinli? It’s Kahlen. If you’re still up for it, I’d love to make some cake this weekend.

I let out a long breath and pressed Send. I gathered my things to head home, brushing the grass off the back of my skirt.

Before I could make it to the edge of campus, my phone buzzed.

I’ve got pans!

I lived for four days in a secret world of absolute bliss. I didn’t sleep at all, because, for the first time in a long time, being awake was so much better. I spent hours looking up recipes, trying to find one that was a little above what a novice might make but wouldn’t be too complicated for a dorm kitchen.

I could feel the weight of my sisters’ stares as I hummed to myself. They didn’t question the sudden lift in my mood, perhaps knowing I would remain close lipped. But when my giddiness didn’t fade after a few days, I began to wonder how one boy was having such an effect on me.

I told myself that it was completely normal to think wonderful thoughts about someone whose last name I didn’t even know. People had crushes on actors and musicians and celebrities they had absolutely no chance of meeting in real life. At least I’d planted my affections on someone who actually knew me.

I continually anticipated the next moment we’d be together, trying to keep the whole thing playful and light. I’d text, You provide the oven and utensils, and I’ll bring all the ingredients?

He’d reply, I will also bring my stomach. Because cake > actual food. Deal!

How do you feel about cream cheese frosting? I’d ask.

It doesn’t get enough respect, if I’m being honest, he’d say.

The days before our baking date were full of tiny notes like that, leaving me with an hour-long buzz from a single sentence. What made it better was that I didn’t always have to start a conversation. By Wednesday, Akinli’s questions were a little bit deeper and came to me unprompted.

So how long have you been cooking?

Feels like forever.

Did your mom teach you?

Actually, it’s something I kind of picked up on my own.

Smiley faces. He sent several. From anyone else, they’d seem ridiculous, but I felt pretty confident that if he typed one in, he was actually smiling.

Thursday we went most of the day without talking, which I really didn’t mind. I was in the middle of telling myself that I was making too much of this. Chances were that we’d have this one date, and he’d struggle so much with communicating that he wouldn’t want to see me again anyway. And that would be for the best. After all, what kind of future could we possibly have?

This was what I was telling myself when, around ten that night, he sent me a picture of his very confused face with the words WHY MATH WHY? underneath. I lay in my bed laughing uncontrollably. First, he was just so, so, so cute! Second, he sent me a picture! I had a picture of a boy that he took just for me, and it felt bigger than anything I’d experienced in the last century.

There was a quick knock at my door, but Elizabeth and Miaka opened it before I could answer.

“You all right in here?” Elizabeth asked, perching a hand on her hip.

I took a deep breath and stopped giggling. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Miaka looked around the room. My TV was off, and there wasn’t a book in my hand. “What’s so funny?”

I picked up my phone. “Just something I saw.”

“Can we see?” Elizabeth asked, reaching out.

I knew, if anything, they’d probably be happy I’d met someone. I just couldn’t help but want to keep him to myself a little bit longer.

“Not sure you’d get it,” I lied.

They shared a look, then eyed me suspiciously.

“Okay … we’ll just go then.” Miaka’s gaze lingered on me before the door closed behind them.

I tightened my lips, trying not to laugh out of the pure joy of having a secret, then pulled up Akinli’s picture again, smiling at his comically drooping eyebrows.

I searched through my phone for something to send back to him, maybe a picture of me in one of those dresses I loved. But I discovered that I had never turned the camera on myself. I had images of the sky, a bird, my sisters, but none of me.

I flopped down on my pillow, sweeping most of my hair above my head. Part of my face was buried in my comforter, but when I snapped the picture, it felt like an honest representation. I stared at that girl for a while, the giddy glow behind her eyes, the hint of a smile in her cheeks, and thought, Yes, this is how this moment makes me feel.

I sent it to him saying, This is when you give up and get in bed. No one will care about your math grades in six years. Promise.

I wanted to explain how many disasters I’d seen disappear in what felt like only minutes compared to the whole span of time.

Is it weird if I tell you you’re pretty? he answered. You’re pretty.

I thought of the way the water looked when I blew bubbles out of my mouth. That was the way I suspected it looked inside my body right now. Light and airy and bursting with happiness.

Is it also weird if I tell you I like talking to you even though you don’t speak? I like talking to you.

“Where are you going?” Miaka asked the second my hand hit the doorknob the next night. I had really thought I was going to be able to sneak out without them noticing. Elizabeth’s music was blaring from her room, and they’d been in serious dress talks for the last twenty minutes.

“Just for a walk. Might go by the store. You want anything?”

She looked me over, studying my outfit. Around the house, I enjoyed comfy rompers or sweaters, and if this had been an impromptu trip, I’d probably still be in those clothes. My skirt—which I already knew might be a bit much for the occasion but made me feel as nice on the outside as I did on the inside—was a bit of a giveaway.