Infinite Risk Read online

  Probably because of the awful weather, there was nobody else on board. The driver said, “You’re lucky, kids. The CTA ordered us back to base, so this is the last run of the night.”

  Kian’s eyes widened. “But I need a transfer to get home.”

  “Sorry. Your family will have to pick you up.”

  The bus started with a jerk, and the floor was slippery. I’d have fallen if Kian hadn’t grabbed me. We tumbled together into the nearest seats. He didn’t immediately let go and since the bus wasn’t that warm, I couldn’t object. I shoved my hands in my pockets, trying to ignore the fact that my feet were freezing.

  “This sucks,” he murmured.

  “You can’t get a ride?” I already had an idea of the answer, but Nine didn’t.

  “Probably not. My uncle is away this weekend for work and my aunt … well, she won’t go out in this weather.” He didn’t say for me, but I sensed the unspoken addendum.

  Before I could think better of the offer, I said, “You can stay at my place if you want.”

  He glanced at me, eyes wide. “Are you sure? Won’t your parents mind?”

  “My mom is … gone,” I said. “And my dad doesn’t pay much attention. He’s not around tonight anyway.”

  That was surely pathetic enough to discourage questions. A flash of sympathy glimmered in Kian’s green eyes. Then he said, “That’s my situation in reverse. My dad’s dead and my mom has … issues.” A polite way to describe her drug habit. “But I’m with my aunt and uncle. How come…” He trailed off, likely unable to figure out how to frame the question.

  “We don’t stay in one place long enough for anyone to notice,” I said softly, expanding on my fourteen schools in two years story.

  This might be a bad idea, if feeling sorry for me made him want to save me. I wasn’t sure if his white-knight complex had emerged yet. But it was my fault we’d come out tonight to get his ID, and I couldn’t let him sleep in the bus station. My room might be shitty, but it was better than that. Probably.

  “If you’re sure it’s cool, I’d appreciate it. I’ll text my aunt.” From his expression, that was more of a courtesy than necessary for permission.

  And sure enough, five minutes after he sent the message, he got back OK, and that was it. No questions about his friend or the family he’d be staying with. I had the feeling he could text Moving to Siberia, and the response would be the same. Though I’d never met this woman, I already didn’t like her. Even if she hated Kian’s dad, that wasn’t his fault.

  With the bus creeping through the snow, it took half an hour longer than usual to get to my stop. The snow was coming down even harder, nearly blinding me as the wind whipped it sideways, catching the light from the streetlamps so it looked like a white stream. Kian grabbed my hand, probably so he didn’t lose me. A few cars parked on the street had six inches on them, and if it wasn’t for the fact that the whole city was caught in this, I’d think Wedderburn had something to do with it.

  Maybe he does.

  Kian was a catalyst he hoped to acquire. So Raoul must be watching and reporting. By hanging out with Kian, I’d certainly expose myself if Wedderburn focused on the future at all. The snowstorm seemed like a reflection of ire more than a planned attack, though. So that meant he was pissed that Kian had stopped inching toward extremis.

  It’s working. I’m changing things.

  So despite the shitty weather, I was smiling when I led Kian into the Baltimore. For once, luck was on my side, and the front desk clerk was in the toilet or something, so I didn’t have to face his leers or gross remarks when I went up to my room. Kian was trying not to look horrified, I could tell, but he kept glancing over his shoulder like something terrible was chasing us.

  I unlocked the door and gestured. “Home, sweet home.”

  Through his eyes, this must be one of the lower levels of hell, though I’d gotten used to the awfulness of it. I showered on a towel, not wanting to put my bare feet in the tub, and the only good thing that could be said about the sheets was there were no bedbugs, though they certainly didn’t believe in discarding stained linens here. I went inside first, seeing his hesitation.

  “If you’re uncomfortable, you can call for a ride,” I said.

  “No, sorry. I was just wondering if this would be okay. I mean, there’s no privacy.”

  I smirked. “If you were expecting your own room, I have to disappoint you. But the radiator works pretty well. Usually.”

  “It’s fine,” he said.

  Shrugging out of my damp jacket, I tinkered with said radiator until a blast of hot air caught me in the face. Then I hung up my coat by the door and stripped out of my shoes and socks, arraying them by the heater to dry. My hoodie was damp too, so I hung that up as well. Kian just watched me, mouth half open.

  “You should dry your stuff too. Otherwise it’ll be awful in the morning.”

  “Right.” He followed my lead until he was barefoot.

  The plain gray T-shirt he had on was better than the polyester stuff he usually wore, and it made me think I was influencing him subconsciously. When you liked someone, you wanted to fit in with them better. A good sign, I thought.

  “Are you hungry? I have ramen.”

  By the way his eyes lit up, you’d think I had offered filet mignon. “That would be great.”

  So I boiled the water in my kettle and filled the cups to the line. We waited three minutes, then added the season packets. I’d done this a lot alone since my kitchenette didn’t lend itself to fancy cooking, nor did my budget, but it was a little better with Kian perched on the other side of the bed mixing his noodles with complete concentration.

  We slurped them down in unison, and he looked into his cup, wistful, when they were gone. Thanks to the Harbinger, I couldn’t offer seconds, but … “Want something to drink? I have apples and yogurt too.”

  “I can’t eat all your food.”

  “It’s okay. I can buy more.”

  “If you’re sure.”

  By recent standards, we had a feast. I made cups of hot tea, lightly laced with milk, and we had those, along with the apples and yogurt. If we ate the granola too, that would be pretty much it, except for the makings of a few PB&Js. That’ll be breakfast.

  “Better?” I asked.

  “Much.”

  The black tea perked me up considerably in conjunction with the bad coffee, so I wasn’t remotely tired. Plus, it wasn’t even nine. Without asking his opinion, I switched on the TV. “Don’t expect much, I only get four channels.”

  On one of them, an old movie was about to start, one I’d never heard of called The African Queen. The picture was shitty, but Kian seemed excited. “You’ll love this.”

  I almost said, Will I? like a smart-ass and then recalled that I was supposed to be a classic-film buff. “I’ve wanted to catch it; this must be my lucky night.”

  For some reason, that pulled his attention from the screen and he flushed. “I think that’s my line.”

  “Really? You wanted to be snowed in at the Baltimore with ramen for dinner?”

  “Remember what I said before—you, me, adventure? Still applies.” With the sweetest, easiest smile I’d seen from him, he bumped his shoulder lightly against mine.

  “Then let’s get comfortable.”

  I climbed into bed and pulled up the covers because the radiator wasn’t winning against the storm outside. Pillow tucked behind me, I settled in to watch the movie. Kian followed suit, though I could tell he was nervous, pretending to be nonchalant. But I acted oblivious, and he soon relaxed, swept into the adventure unfolding on screen. Truthfully, it wasn’t the most riveting thing I ever watched, mostly because World War I wasn’t my jam, so I got sleepy as I warmed up. My mind wandered to the nights I’d spent in Kian’s apartment with his arms around me, dozing through something he loved.

  “How do you like it so far?” he whispered.

  “It’s good.”

  “You’ve been asleep for the last five m
inutes.”

  “I was watching with my eyes closed. To better engage my imagination.”

  Kian laughed. “Ah, so that’s where they lost you—all the visuals. Maybe we should check into some old radio shows.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Seriously, though, you can sleep if you’re tired. Just tell me where I’m supposed to—”

  “Here is fine. I trust you not to do anything, but if you try, I’ll kill you.” Because I smiled when I said it, he couldn’t tell if it was serious.

  “I w-wouldn’t,” he stammered.

  “Kidding. I do trust you.”

  Somehow I stayed awake for the epic conclusion where Charlie and Rose escaped execution via torpedoes or something. By then it was after eleven, so it didn’t seem as lame to call it a day. I went to the bathroom first, brushed my teeth, then waved Kian in. “You can use some of my toothpaste if you want.”

  “Thanks.”

  By the time he came out, I was already snuggled in bed under the blankets. They were thin and raspy, and I’d piled all of them on the bed. At least the much-washed top sheet was soft, if pilled with age. Kian slid in on the other side as if we did this all the time.

  And in another world, another life, we might.

  “The mattress is kind of lumpy, and there’s one spring—”

  “Found it,” he groaned.

  “I’d offer to flip the mattress, but the other side is worse. Just take my word for it.”

  “Nine…” He sounded like he wanted to ask something.

  “What?”

  “I noticed there’s only one set of everything in the bathroom. When you said your dad doesn’t pay much attention … I mean, how long has it been since you saw him?”

  “Three weeks? Maybe a month.” I kept my voice matter-of-fact.

  “So who pays the rent on this place, buys food…” Kian seemed to realize the answer was obvious, so he let that go. “Are you even safe here?”

  “Maybe not, but I prefer this kind of danger to living under somebody else’s roof, where they have all the power, and they can do anything they want to me. I’m emancipated, okay?”

  He paused, probably calculating the likelihood that I had actual documents putting me in charge of my own life. “You mean you ran away.”

  “It’s basically the same thing.”

  He made a sound that said he disagreed with me, but he finally whispered, “I can see your point. Sometimes I’d rather be alone than burden my uncle any more. It’s really hard when you feel so unwelcome.”

  “You don’t get along with your relatives?”

  “My younger cousins are okay, but I get stuck watching them whenever my aunt feels like going out. And that’s the only time she ever talks to me—to tell me to do something. It’s like she thinks I work for her.”

  “People are assholes,” I muttered.

  “No, that’s seriously it.” He sounded like he’d come to some realization. “I’m in her house, eating her food. So she figures I should pay it back. No wonder she gets mad that I spend so much time in my room. She wants me doing housework when I’m not at school.”

  “Your uncle is nicer?”

  “Yeah. He was my dad’s younger brother, and I always liked him. But he’s gone two or three days a week. He’s in sales and the market is tough, so…”

  “That might be part of why your aunt is so awful. If they’re strapped for cash already.”

  In the dark, I sensed more than saw him nod. “Could be. Doesn’t make living there any less awkward. Sometimes I pretend my dad didn’t die and I have my old life back. Other days I imagine my mom getting her shit together and coming for me.”

  “Does it help?” I whispered.

  “Not really. Because I know nobody’s coming to save me. I just have to stick it out until I graduate. College will be better, right?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Tell me something?”

  “Depends on what it is.” I rolled over because it felt weird not to face him when we were having this intimate conversation.

  “Why don’t you just drop out? Isn’t it hard moving all the time?”

  “It’s a milestone. And it’s come to mean something to me. If I quit, then that’s like accepting I don’t have a future.”

  That was the one true part of these lies; back when the headmaster had agreed to let me finish my senior year on independent study at Blackbriar, I’d known I could pass the equivalency exam right then and save myself the bother. But I couldn’t, not after everything that happened. It was too much like giving up.

  “You could get your GED and still go to college. It would be better if you had roommates and a nice place to stay.”

  “Places like this don’t care, as long as you can pay. I can’t get into college or an actual apartment with a fake ID.” Luckily, there were logical reasons to back up my presence in his life.

  “Right, you need to be eighteen. So you might as well graduate while you’re waiting?”

  “Basically.”

  “I really respect you. Nobody’s looking out for you and yet you’re still doing everything you need to. So many people would do crazy shit in your situation.”

  “You mean like invite guys to sleep over?” I said, smiling.

  Kian laughed softly. “Okay, you got me. But I appreciate you taking the risk. I might’ve frozen to death waiting for my aunt … and I’m actually having an awesome time.”

  “Here?” My skepticism was obvious.

  “Hey, I live in an attic. It’s not a cupboard beneath the stairs, but it’s freaking close. My aunt wants me to nail up the paneling to cover the insulation.”

  “So she wants you to build yourself a room to live in?”

  Damn, it’s worse than he ever told me. Oh, Kian.

  “Basically. I keep telling her I don’t know to hang paneling or dry wall, and she’s all, You’re supposed to be a genius or something, right? Figure it out. Like I have nothing better to do than teach myself DIY construction.”

  “Isn’t that kind of hard to learn from a book?”

  “Probably. And if I don’t keep my grades up, I’m not going to college; that simple.” His voice contained all the yearning in the world, picturing his escape from Cross Point.

  Time to plant a seed.

  “There are a lot of great schools in Boston,” I said.

  Kian sighed. “Harvard obviously. But there’s no way I’m getting in there.”

  “It’s not the only one, though, and Boston is a cool city. I lived there for a while. It was probably my favorite out of everywhere I’ve been. I’d like to go back someday.”

  “I’ll bear that in mind. So … how long will you be here?” Somehow he seemed to realize there was a certain transience about me, maybe from the room I was staying in.

  “Until the end of the term.” It was better if he knew up front not to get too attached; I had to change his life just enough, not imprint on him.

  “But you’ll keep in touch, right?”

  The vulnerability in his voice made me reckless. “Definitely.”

  With deepest winter setting in, I wasn’t sure if I could keep that promise.

  ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE

  In the morning, I woke to find us curled together like puppies.

  I lay there for thirty seconds, trying desperately to remember that this Kian was not mine. In time, he’d grow into a version of the person I’d loved, but they would never be one and the same. Like my very existence here, I had to look on my feelings as an echo, a might-have-been. Yet it didn’t stop me from staring at the thick curl of his lashes, the dark hair falling in a tangle against his cheek. The slope of his nose was the same; so were his eyes. Really, Raoul hadn’t done a lot more than refine his features into the supernatural beauty that was so startling.

  He’s not yours, I reminded myself, and rolled out of bed before I could be tempted to linger. If he woke and caught me staring, it would break one of two ways. Option A: He concludes I like him and
makes a move. Option B: He thinks I’m creepy and starts pulling back. Both were bad for different reasons, so I went into the bathroom to wash up. When I came out ten minutes later, Kian was awake. He managed a bashful smile as he sidled by for his turn.

  “Hungry?” I asked ten minutes later, as the door swung open.

  “Yeah, but I’m feeling guilty.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” I shoved a napkin with a PB&J on it toward him. “Breakfast of champions, so eat up.”

  After a makeshift meal, I peered out the window, relieved to find the streets plowed. As a result, three-foot dirty gray drifts partially blocked the sidewalk, but at least vehicles were moving on the wet streets. Honking horns and the red glare of taillights made things seem more normal than they had the night before, eerie in the winter desolation. It was hard not to see Wedderburn’s fingerprints all over that storm, but maybe I was paranoid.

  “I should get back,” Kian said, sounding reluctant.

  “I need to stop by the store. So I’ll walk you to the bus stop.”

  “Do you still want to do the thrift shop and the movie tonight?” he asked.

  “Definitely. Let’s meet at the stop nearest the House of Style.”

  Kian laughed. “That name kills me. But, okay, around four?”

  “Yep.”

  My hoodie was still damp when I shrugged into it, but I didn’t say a word. At least my sneakers were dry, thanks to their night by the radiator. This room had no closet, but since I had like four T-shirts, two pairs of jeans, three pairs of panties, two bras, a hoodie, and a jean jacket, I didn’t need much space. I wished I had thicker socks and a proper coat, though.

  Frowning, Kian watched me layer up. “You dress like you’re still in California.”

  More like, this was what I could pick up quick and cheap, but my I’m a time traveler, so I pack light rationale probably wouldn’t play well. So I shrugged.

  “It’ll do until May, I’m sure. I’m thinking of heading south next.”

  “Sounds awesome. Or terrifying.” He seemed like he couldn’t make up his mind.