Kiara （Age 17）
Kiara
“Thanks so much for the ride. See you next week.”
I grab my bag and step out of the car.
“Sure. Good night.”
I check my pockets as the car disappears down the street. When I unlock the front door, I find my mom sitting at the kitchen table.
I’m really not in the mood to talk.
“Hi. I’m tired, and I already ate,” I say flatly.
She just nods and quietly wishes me good night. I rush upstairs to my room and drop onto the bed.
For a moment, I just stare at the ceiling. Then my lips twitch and I catch myself smiling. I press them together, trying to stop it, but it doesn’t listen.
I’ve heard she has a brother, but I’d never actually seen him before.
The evening keeps replaying in my head, something restless moving through me with it.
I can’t get those eyes out of my head.
From far away they looked almost black. But when I got closer, I realized they were green. The most unique dark green I’ve ever seen.
Forest-before-a-storm green.
I lie there longer than I should, letting the memory sit there, heavy and quiet, before I finally force myself up. My feet ache from the long shift. Setting everything up was the worst part. Thank God I didn’t have to stay until the end to pack everything away.
I stumble into the bathroom, peel off my clothes, and step under the shower. The hot water hits my skin, loosening the tension in my muscles almost instantly. I tilt my head back, letting it run over my face, and start counting in my head.
I’m getting close to the amount I need for a car that actually works. Close to being able to drive to the city whenever I want.
My eyes fall shut as the water runs down my cheeks, and I see him again—standing by that table.
Tall. Unreadable. Deceptively calm.
A sudden wave of embarrassment uncomfortably runs through me.
Why did I introduce myself like that?
I drop my face into my hands, water dripping down my arms.
He didn’t even ask for my name. I just blurted it out. That was so random. He didn’t seem interested.
But he was staring at me all the time, so I’m not sure how I’m supposed to interpret this night. I drag my hands down my face slowly, trying to make sense of it.
That burning, predatory stare still lingers on me, dragging heat through my body all over again, as if my skin couldn’t get rid of his presence.
There was something dark about him. Something that kept pulling my attention back to him, no matter how hard I tried to focus on anything else.
I can ask Nat about him tomorrow. It’ll be embarrassing, but whatever. He doesn’t go to my school. If it turns out he’s not interested, I can just pretend this never happened.
Worst case, I stop taking catering shifts.
And move cities.
Or countries.
Back in my room, I pull on a tank top and shorts and drop onto the bed again, staring at the ceiling like it might give me answers.
It doesn’t. Only the feeling stays. As if my body recognized something before I did.
The way he was staring at me? I couldn’t decide if it made me nervous or something worse. If I should be stepping back or leaning closer. All I know is that it made the back of my neck shiver.
My gaze drifts toward my hands, my fingers curling into the blanket.
However hard I tried, my eyes couldn’t help being attracted by his hands. Something obviously happened to him. But I’ve never seen such a strange kind of imperfection.
Lines of damaged skin stretching from his wrists all the way to his fingertips, uneven and tight in places.
It was so hauntingly beautiful.
It feels wrong to even think that. It made me want to know what happened to him.
Was he born like that?
Was he in an accident?
It looked like burns. Like he had touched hell itself.
Flashbacks of him run shamelessly through my head.
It’s known that they’re adopted, but they look so much like Mrs. Varner. Every time I see her at an event or in the newspapers, she looks like a Russian supermodel. Nat has the same black hair, green eyes, pale skin, and her brother—his eyes are somehow darker.
Kasien.
I’ll ask Nat tomorrow. Maybe. Or I can wait for another catering shift. Maybe he’ll be there and I can figure out this confusing interest in my head.
But that would be a whole week. My chest tightens at the thought.
I shift myself in the sheets, cuddling my pillow and throwing the blanket away. The nights have been so hot lately. My window is wide open, the summer air so warm even this late at night. Outside, crickets are singing together with some cats arguing in the distance.
I love these sounds. The sounds of nightlife, drifting into my bedroom, making it feel like I’m not alone here.
My mind uncontrollably drifts back to the Varner siblings. It must be nice to have a sibling. They were together almost the whole evening, none of them probably ever feeling lonely. They also look like they fell out of a vampire movie.
Both of them have this magnetic presence, fair skin, tall and lean features. Yet I know Natalya is one of the craziest people in school. Detention is basically her second home.
I’ve always wanted a sibling. Just someone who would love me unconditionally.
I close my eyes, trying to force sleep, but my mind won’t quiet down.
My phone suddenly dings on my nightstand. I unlock it when I see a text message from an unknown number.
Unknown: You forgot something today.
It’s definitely someone from catering, but what did I forget this time? It’s probably nothing, I’ll get it next week.
Three dots appear on the screen and then—a photo.
My fingers freeze on the screen, my lips parting to get some air in.
It’s him.
Well, only his hand.
And he’s wearing my bracelet.
I have to sit up to fully analyze the picture, my fingers trembling.
He’s wearing it.
I open the picture and cover my mouth to stop the silent giggle, immediately embarrassed by my own hormones.
Jesus, what am I, twelve?
I tilt my head and study the photo more. The bracelet is too small for him, hugging his whole wrist right where the scars start, but that’s all the picture shows – the rest of his hand is cropped out.
Sadly.
I bite my nails nervously and check the time of the message.
Fuck.
Have I really been staring at it for more than five minutes? Can he see that I read it?
I quickly go to my settings and of course I have that stupid button ON. He can see I read it.
I need to answer right fucking now. My teeth nibble at my nails, too uneasy to touch the screen, when another three dots appear.
Okay, there’s more.
Unknown: I hope it’s really your number and Natalya didn’t prank me.
My palm comes up to cover my mouth again, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips.
I rest myself against the headboard of my bed, my pulse thickening with a wave of something between relief and curiosity.
I’m being a little pathetic. I cross my legs at the ankles, make myself comfortable and finally text back.
Me: Oh my god I literally panicked looking for it.
Unknown: You okay now, or still panicking?
Me: Surviving. Barely.
Unknown: Good.
Okay. Now what? I stare at the message for another couple of minutes.
Me: Thanks for keeping it.
Unknown: It suits me.
Me: It really does.
Jesus.
I drop my phone beside me like it burned me and cover my face in both hands. I’m probably bright red as a tomato.
Was that a flirting attempt?
A quiet snort escapes me, as I’m once again being amused by my existence. I let my hands fall to my lap and stare at the phone.
No dings. He doesn’t answer.
Okay, he definitely thinks I’m hitting on him now. Great.
Finally, it lights up and I grab it as fast as possible.
Unknown: You want it back?
Me: Yes please.
Unknown: I can bring it to you…whenever.
Me: I work next week for another event, you’ll probably be there?
Unknown: If it stays with me for that long I might get attached and you’ll never see it again.
My cheeks are getting stiff from all the smiling.
So who’s flirting now, huh? Okay, let’s see what’s happening here. I can tease a bit.
Me: Okay, just give it to Nat and she’ll give it to me at school tomorrow.
Silence. I probably pissed him off.
Just as I’m about to overthink it—my phone buzzes.
Unknown: I don’t really like my sister, let’s not do that. She could lose it, you know.
I bite my lips to tame the smile again.
Me: Doubt that. She’s the sweetest person ever.
Silence. This time longer.
I couldn’t care less about that bracelet. My mom bought it for me on a vacation—her only real way of showing affection.
My phone suddenly rings.
What the actual—
Is he really calling me?
Something twists low in my stomach, turning everything there into chaos. I clear my throat and pick it up.
There’s a brief silence before his voice reaches me—youthful, yet unexpectedly deep, with a husky edge that sounds almost worn in.
“Let’s not talk about my sister.”
“Okay,” I reply and there’s a short silence once more, but it feels somehow nice, comfortable.
I’m usually annoyingly chatty. What the hell is happening with me?
“I hope this is okay. I’m not good at texting.”
“And you’re good at talking?” I ask, unable to hide a bit of amusement.
“We’ll see, I guess,” he laughs.
I can’t hold back a smile either—his laugh comes out rough, almost nervous, but there’s something soft underneath it that doesn’t quite match. He keeps talking before the moment can settle.
“So, what is it really? A friendship bracelet? Is that still a thing?”
“No, it’s not a friendship bracelet. I’m not twelve, Kasien.”
Here we go, I just said his name.
He’s quiet for a moment. I probably pronounced it wrong.
“Fuck. Then is it a relationship bracelet?”
I laugh.
“No, it’s definitely not a relationship bracelet.”
“Okay, good, that would be weird.”
“And why exactly?”
“Because I’m wearing it.”
“Right. Don’t stretch it!”
“Text me your address then.”
My heart sinks even lower as I stay quiet for a moment, my brain short-circuiting. Is he for real?