Kasien （Age 18） #2
She’s so annoying. Where the fuck is Adrien?
“Look at you. That’s it! Break the sad-boy aesthetic and smile!” she squeaks, mocking me.
We stop wrestling and she props her elbow on my shoulder, finishing the rest of her drink in one gulp. For a moment we both just stand there, staring at Kiara like idiots, entirely zoned out.
She’s handing out glasses to the newcomers, while neither of us looks away.
Then she glances back at us.
We snap out of it at the same time and look in completely different directions.
That was so not smooth.
“Great,” Natalya mutters under her breath. “Now she thinks I’m hitting on her too. Perfect.”
The sun has already disappeared behind the horizon, and the garden lights are lit, making everything feel softer. Chatter sounds all around us and music is getting louder since people started dancing under the podium.
I have to chat with some partners, but I always end up checking where Kiara is. She keeps going back to the tent to refill her tray, then circling the garden entrance, offering glasses.
Our eyes have met like four times tonight, every time giving me a small heart attack.
Maybe it’s a sign.
No.
I’m literally staring at her this whole time, so I guess it’s just pure logic instead of a sign.
The singer starts a nice song, Wicked Game, as Natalya is telling me about some drama from her school and plans for her birthday party. Then my heart stops once more as I suddenly see Kiara coming straight toward us.
Oh God.
I widen my eyes at Natalya to give her a signal—I’m not really sure why. She turns around and Kiara is already here.
“Hi!” Natalya squeaks and Kiara lifts her tray.
“Do you guys need more prosecco?” she asks and looks straight at me.
Her voice is soft and sweet, sliding straight into my brain like someone just poured honey into it.
Shit.
Awkward silence.
Too long.
Natalya is waiting for me to answer that.
“Ugh, this is my brother, and he’s unfortunately mute.” Natalya makes a sad face at Kiara.
“Oh,” Kiara frowns.
I’m going to kill her.
I roll my eyes and pretend I know how to breathe.
“She’s kidding,” I mumble and look at Kiara, her eyes lighting up immediately.
I swallow my nerves, warmth spreading through my chest, my heart about to jump out of my mouth if I open it again.
“I’m glad,” Kiara says, and I smile back unintentionally, our eyes frozen on each other for a moment.
She has warm hazelnut eyes. They look like chocolate.
“Okay, I have to work, so—here you go.”
She takes her tray with one hand to give us the glasses but I shoot up and take them myself instead. She’s about to leave, then she stops and nervously blurts out her name.
“I’m Kiara by the way.”
She gives me the sweetest smile, the one that feels like it’s happening in slow motion.
Loose strands of her wavy hair slip free from the ponytail, brushing against her face in the breeze. Her skin has a warm glow, as if gold is pouring around her.
“Kasien,” I reply, sounding flatter and colder than I intended, but here we are.
She just nods and walks away.
I finally take a deep breath, trying to slow my racing heartbeat, and glance at my annoying sister. Her eyebrows are practically on top of her head as her eyes scan me from head to toe.
“So, that was weird,” she says. “But kind of cute, I guess?”
She laughs at me just as Adrien’s arm drapes over my shoulders out of nowhere. Natalya’s smile vanishes instantly and she shifts her weight.
I smirk and shoot her a knowing look.
Her mouth is full of shit if she thinks I don’t notice the massive crush she has on Adrien. I chuckle under my breath as we clink our glasses, deciding not to call her out. Yet.
They keep drinking more while I switch to water so I can drive later.
The sun goes down and more people start dancing, the chatter fades into a quiet hum under the soft music.
I glance toward the catering tent again.
They’ve already packed everything up, leaving only the alcohol on a long buffet table.
Kiara took off her apron and left with other caterers a while ago.
And only now do I realize I’m a complete fucking idiot who didn’t ask for her number or anything, after staring at her like a creep all evening.
And just like that, the night becomes painfully boring and we decide to head home. Sylvia hasn’t looked at me once and she clearly doesn’t need anything from me tonight. Which means we might actually get a normal evening for once.
?
Adrien and I end up in his room in the staff house, sprawled on the huge sofa. Linkin Park plays in the background while he pulls out his tattoo gun and starts working on my hands, trying to cover some of the ugliest scars with thin lines of ink.
“I’ll need to bring it up your arm and connect it there,” he mutters with a cigarette hanging from his mouth, while he’s absolutely focused on his art.
I stare up at the ceiling, barely listening.
He’s tattooing himself all the time, and all his tattoos are just scribbles that don’t make much sense to me, but I don’t ask. He already did some damage on me too. He’s really good at it.
“I don’t care,” I mumble, replaying my conversation with Kiara in my head for the hundredth time.
Why the hell was I so fucking weird?
The needle barely hurts on my wrist—the skin there is half numb—but when he moves up to my bicep the pain hits hard enough to drag me out of my thoughts.
Then the door flies open. Natalya walks in and drops onto the sofa next to Adrien, tossing something onto my chest. I catch it and study it.
A blue cord bracelet.
“What is that?” I frown at her.
“That’s a bracelet,” she says dryly. “Caterers have to take them off before their shift.”
She raises her eyebrows at me, clearly waiting for the realization to hit.
My heart starts racing again as a smile spreads on my face.
“I sent you her number,” she says with a teasing tone.
Did she leave it on purpose?
Adrien pauses the tattoo gun as I slip the bracelet onto my other wrist. I lean back against the couch and light another cigarette, staring at the thin blue cord around my wrist while I try to figure out what I’m supposed to text her.
Or maybe I should call.
No. That would be weird.
I’ve never done this before.
My leg starts bouncing uncontrollably, and I can’t wipe the stupid smile off my face.