Lovestuck

Chapter 24

Riya had paused mid-edit on her Caltech essay when the doorbell rang.

She didn’t move at first. Her laptop glowed in front of her, the cursor blinking inside an unfinished sentence:

Tell us about a time you faced a challenge and what it taught you.

She’d written three versions already. Deleted them all for reading too much like an entry in Encyclopedia Britannica.

“Someone get the doooor,” Amara yelled from the family room. The last time Riya had checked, Amara was kneeling on the floor,

setting up another board game for family game night—some overly complicated game that would probably take another thirty minutes

just to learn how to play.

No one replied, even as the doorbell rang again.

Riya sighed and got up from her desk, trudged down the stairs, and opened the front door.

It was Kian, clutching a lopsided bouquet of wilted purple flowers.

“Hi,” he said nervously, leaning against the doorway.

She almost didn’t recognize him; he wasn’t wearing his beanie today, instead letting his messy, dyed-blond hair run wild, almost covering his eyes. It was chilly, and he wore a scuffed brown leather jacket, his silver piercings glinting beneath the sidelights.

“These are for you.” Kian carefully pushed the flowers in her direction.

“You didn’t rip these out from the school flower bed, did you?”

“Oh. No. You told me not to do that anymore, so I bought these.”

Riya stared at him for a beat before taking them. He’d actually remembered.

Then: “How did you know where I live?”

“I asked Mel.” Kian smiled sheepishly. “I could have found it myself, but—would that be weird? Asking was probably weird,

too. I don’t know. I just—” He broke off, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wanted to see you.”

Of course Mel told him. Riya could already imagine the justification: You’ve been spiraling, and Kian clearly wanted to talk—what was I supposed to do? Let you both suffer in silence, like some

kind of evil person would?

“But if this is too much—if you don’t like it—you can tell me to leave. Seriously. Just say the word and I’m—”

Riya squeezed the bridge of her nose, sighing. “No, it’s fine. I wanted to talk to you anyway.”

“Really?” Kian’s eyes widened. “Then—wait, can I go first?”

“Sure.”

Kian took a steadying breath and stood a little straighter.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m really, really sorry about yesterday. I shouldn’t have gone off like that. I didn’t mean to embarrass

you like that.”

Riya didn’t answer right away.

She shifted the flowers in her hands, inspecting their slightly crushed stems. He must’ve been squeezing them the whole way

here.

“You didn’t embarrass me,” she said softly.

Kian blinked.

“I was . . . worried,” she admitted, fingers tightening around the stems. “When Quin said all that stuff, it was like something

cracked in you. Like you didn’t know what was real anymore. And then when I told you to stop—”

She hesitated. “You looked at me like I’d abandoned you. And maybe, in a way, it felt true. So, I’m sorry. I yelled at you,

but I know you’re doing your best. I wasn’t being fair.”

Kian’s eyes glistened.

“Wait, are you crying?”

“N-no.” Kian scrubbed at his face, hard. “I just— I know what people think of me. But it would suck if you thought the same,

you know?”

He shoved his hands into his pockets. Looked away. “I want you to know I got you. The way you’ve always got me.”

Always? They’d known each other for less than a month. So what was Kian—

“Riya, who is it?” Amara suddenly called from inside the house.

Crap. “No one!”

Nyra peeked over her shoulder. “Doesn’t look like no one.”

Seconds later, Amara appeared, too. “Oh! Are we keeping secrets now?”

Riya sighed. “Not a secret. Just a friend.”

A friend. The word had slipped out so easily.

Amara raised a brow. “A friend . . . who’s come all this way on a cold evening just to see our little sister?”

“Are you Riya’s big sisters?” asked Kian, his mouth falling open. “Mel mentioned Riya having sisters.”

Nyra flicked Riya’s ear. “Hey, how come Mel had to be the one to tell him about us?”

“Ow! I don’t know! It just happened like that.”

Kian smiled. “I’m Kian, by the way. We’re friends from school. Same grade.”

“I’m Nyra, and this is Amara,” said Nyra. “It’s chilly. You need to head home? We’re about to have family game night—you should

join us if you’re free!”

“No way. I would love to.” Kian was already stepping inside the house.

Riya made a horrified expression. “Wait, but—”

“Guess that means you can’t escape this time!” Amara threw Riya a grin. “Come, come! Meet the rest of the fam. Just take off

your shoes.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” said Kian, already removing his boots.

Nyra and Amara led Kian into the family room, with Riya trailing behind trying to grasp the situation unfolding in front of her. Kian was in her house. Kian was about to join her family in game night. Kian, whom she’d placed under a love curse.

Entropy, she thought. The second law of thermodynamics—and apparently the law that governed her family, too. Without fail, the chaos

that came so naturally to them would only increase over time.

She suddenly felt a headache coming on.

Amara sat by her game setup, her lips pursed in thought. “Mm, maybe we should try something easier tonight, especially if

Riya and Kian are going to join.”

“I’m good with anything!” said Kian cheerfully, taking a seat beside her on the carpet.

Riya hovered by the edge of the rug, frozen.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Kian wasn’t supposed to meet her sisters. Or sit cross-legged on their carpet like he lived

here.

“What about Taboo?” Nyra suggested. “That’s always fun. We can do two teams of three. Come, Riya, sit!”

Riya sighed and relented, sitting across from Kian just as another voice asked, “What’s this?”

Riya’s mom and dad came down the stairs in their lounge clothes, Mom wearing her hair in a tight bun, signaling that she meant

business, and Dad adjusting his glasses, squinting in Kian’s direction.

“You must be Riya’s dad and mom! I can see the family resemblance,” said Kian, grinning. “You all have this . . . flair about you. Similar energy. And the same beautiful eyes.”

“Oh, I like him,” Riya’s mom said. That, apparently, was enough to stop her from asking further questions.

“I don’t remember having another boy in this family,” Riya’s dad observed.

“He’s Riya’s friend!” Nyra explained, grinning. “Come on, we’re all playing Taboo!”

Their game of Taboo was, as Riya suspected, utter chaos. The teams were divided thus: Mom, Kian, and Riya on Team 1, with

Amara, Nyra, and Dad on Team 2. Riya was to keep time with the hourglass, as everyone agreed only she could be trusted to

be incorruptible.

Mom and Kian scraped together a couple points; Riya hauled them ahead. Team 2 nearly clawed back, thanks to Amara and Nyra’s

apparent hive mind, until it was Dad’s turn.

“It’s a machine,” he said slowly. “We have one at home. We use it a lot.”

“Blender! Microwave! Stand mixer!” fired Nyra.

“Hair dryer!” Mom yelled.

Riya gave her mom a look. “Mom, it’s not our turn.”

“It—it sucks things!” Dad blurted, frustrated. “It’s very loud!”

“Oh my God, Dad, could you not have phrased that literally any other way?” Amara groaned.

Kian covered his face, his shoulders trembling from laughter. Riya had never seen him laugh like that.

“Why is Kian laughing so hard? Did I say something weird?” Dad whispered.

“Focus, Dad!” Amara said, exasperated.

Then Riya’s gaze flicked to the hourglass. “And . . . time!”

“The word was vacuum!” Dad cried, throwing his hands in the air. “Vacuum, damn it!”

“You could have said, ‘You use it to clean’ instead of . . . sexual innuendos!” Nyra scolded him, her hands on her hips.

“What do you mean?! I said no such thing!”

Over the next hour, rounds blurred together. Team 2 never recovered. And when the last grain of sand fell, Team 1 had won

by a mile.

“Losers have to clean up,” Mom declared.

Kian immediately shook his head. “I’ll help, too.”

That left Riya with no excuse but to help as well.

As they gathered cards, chip bags, and half-empty cans of soda, Riya kept glancing at him. He looked happy. Not the kind of

spell-addled, frantic joy she’d seen in the hallways at school, the jittery brightness he wore whenever he was near her. This

was different. Quiet, uncomplicated. He laughed at her dad’s awful jokes. Rinsed cups without being asked. Thanked her mom

like he meant it.

And Riya—watching from the edges of the room as she cleaned—felt something unexpected bloom in her chest. Longing.

For the noise, the teasing, the ordinary closeness she’d been pushing away since the Incident.

She’d spent so long keeping her family at a careful distance, but now, with Kian folded so naturally into the center of things, she saw the soft, remarkable warmth of it all.

She looked down at the cards she’d gathered in her hand.

Her dad was picking up scattered throw pillows when he paused, looking up at Kian as if something had just occurred to him.

“Hey, Kian, you sure you haven’t been over before? You look . . . familiar. Doesn’t he look familiar?”

He glanced around for confirmation.

“I had that same thought earlier. . . .” their mom added, her brow furrowed.

Kian hesitated. “I don’t think so?”

Nyra, still half buried in a nest of chip bags, didn’t look up. “Well, wasn’t there that one boy, when—”

“Nyra.” Their mom’s voice turned sharp.

Riya blinked. What boy?

Nyra froze. “I—I mean, maybe I’m thinking of someone else.”

“I think he’d remember if he’d been here before, Dad,” said Riya. Why was her family acting so suspicious tonight?

“Oh, Riya, now that we’re done playing, you should show him your telescope!” Mom suggested with sudden enthusiasm. “When was

the last time you used it? It should be a good night for stargazing!”

Riya reeled at the mention of her telescope. She hadn’t touched it in weeks.

And yet . . .

“Actually . . . maybe you’d like it,” she heard herself say.

Kian got to his feet, grinning. “I know I’ll love it.”

Riya felt something stir—subtle but undeniable. Like a thread she’d been holding taut had finally loosened in her hands.

She shook the thought away and motioned toward the back door. “Come on.”

Riya’s mom waved as they stepped outside. “Have fun!”

After Riya grabbed the telescope from the garage, they stepped into the backyard, the air crisp and full of leaf-rustle and

cricket-song.

She set the telescope down in the grass while Kian tipped his face to the stars.

“Your dad’s thoughts on vacuum cleaners are gonna haunt me forever,” he said.

“You’re lucky you missed out on the one time we tried Taboo Uncensored,” Riya said drily, adjusting the lens. “We learned

things about our parents we can never unlearn.”

He laughed—but there was a delay. Something in his shoulders tightened.

“My mom used to host these little recital nights,” he said. “For her students. She’d light candles, make snacks. Everyone

played something, even if it was bad.”

Riya looked up, surprised. Back at his house, he’d shut down the moment his past tried to enter a room, or when his dad walked

in. Like a window slamming shut.

But now he was cracking it open.

“It used to feel . . . magical,” he said, and there was something distant in his voice now. “I thought we were happy. I thought she was.”

Riya’s fingers curled around the telescope, anchoring her.

“Maybe she was,” she said. “Just not in the way you thought. Or not in a way she knew how to keep.”

He didn’t answer at first. The cold made a cloud of his breath.

“You know,” he said eventually, “my dad always told me everything happens for a reason. I used to think that was bullshit.

Still kind of do. But sometimes . . . I wonder if the reason is just to see how much someone can take.”

Normally, Riya would leave it there. Let the silence wrap around them like a blanket, safe and secure. But something in his

voice pierced through her. Through the loudness of the ticking clock.

“What happened?” she asked gently.

Kian looked at her. “She left when I was thirteen. Just didn’t come home after a lesson. No warning. No note. Dad panicked.

Called the police, called everyone. A week later, she walked in like nothing had happened. Said she’d made a mistake. That

she never wanted any of it—marriage, kids, the whole thing. She said we felt like a life she’d never asked for. And now she’s

a stepmom,” he said, a bitter laugh escaping him. “For someone else’s kid.”

Riya’s throat tightened. She couldn’t imagine what it would take to say that out loud. How long he’d carried it.

“I’m so sorry, Kian.”

Kian gave a tiny shrug. “You know the worst part? I thought mom was just out of town or something. The only reason I even found out the truth was because a kid at school ran his mouth about it, back in eighth grade.”

Riya’s stomach turned cold. “Jake Townsend.”

He nodded. “He made jokes about how even my mom didn’t want me. I let it happen for weeks. But one day, I don’t know. I snapped.

Hit him.”

His jaw clenched. “So he brought backup. Him and two of his friends cornered me behind the portables. Broke a tooth.”

Riya’s nails bit her palms. “Jake’s awful. It’s no wonder you snapped.”

“Yeah.” Kian gave her a wry look. “Only problem was, Jake’s mom was on the school board. I would’ve been expelled if it wasn’t

for another kid who’d seen the whole thing and backed me up. So I got suspended instead.”

Riya blinked. A witness.

Her mind flashed back to the blurred memory of a boy with bloodied knuckles, crouched on the grass. At the time, she hadn’t

put it together. But now—

Could it really have been him?

But no, that would be absurd. Coincidences didn’t line up like that. No. That was too neat. Too . . . perfect. Still, the

thought burrowed under her ribs, unshakable.

“I see him in the hallway sometimes. I don’t even think he remembers anything,” said Kian. “Tempted to remind him, though.”

She swallowed. “Well, I’m glad someone was looking out for you.”

“Me too.” Kian glanced toward the house. The warmth of it, the voices still echoing faintly through the walls. “And now . . .

I guess I’m just glad I ended up here. With you.”

She stared at him, surprised by how his sincerity didn’t unsettle her the way it once did. Instead, it rested on her like

a gentle flame against the cold.

And this time, she didn’t shrug off his words as a symptom of the curse.

“. . . Thanks,” she said softly.

Kian smiled.

“Okay, enough of that,” he said, already shaking off the seriousness of their conversation. “Show me some stars, Professor.”