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I shrugged and shook my head. I didn’t want to mention my hip, which felt very sore. It wasn’t bleeding so I didn’t think it was important to mention. “I’m fine.”
He looked at me a moment, as if wondering whether I was being honest with him or not. He slowly nodded. “Okay. Well, Sang, I hope this won’t ruin your impression of me right off.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean we are neighbors, right? Your family just moved in?”
My eyes widened. I guessed there was no hiding it. “Yes. No. I mean, don’t worry about it. It was just an accident.” I pursed my lips, unsure if I should say anything more.
His forefinger moved to the bridge of his glasses and he slid them up. The muscle in his forearm flexed. “So what were you doing out so late?”
I had been hoping he wouldn't ask. “Just taking a walk. I couldn’t sleep.”
“With a book bag weighing a ton on your back? In the middle of this weather?”
My face heated up and I didn’t know how to answer him. The silence stretched on between us as I struggled with words. I stalled for so long that I didn’t know if I could respond at all.
A sympathetic but confused smile spread over his lips. “Hey, I’m sorry. Look, it’s personal. Whatever it was, did you have to do it in the middle of the night?”
I sucked in a breath. “It felt like a good idea at the time.”
The corner of his mouth dropped slightly but he caught it and his face relaxed and became unreadable. “Okay. Here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to find you something dry to wear. I’m going to go downstairs to change. I’ll make some hot chocolate, too. If I come back and you’re not here, I’ll understand. If you are, you get to tell me what’s going on.” His head bowed a little until his forehead was so close to my own that I could feel his warmth from it. I had nowhere to look but into his beautiful green eyes. “I make a halfway decent friend if you give me a chance.”
I didn’t know how to respond to this either so I simply nodded. A complete stranger was offering his friendship. Right here, in this moment, it was something I never imagined. I felt my eyes watering and I turned my face away from him to hide it. I couldn’t look into his eyes any more. It was like he could see into me and who I really was and I didn’t want him to see me.
He straightened up and stepped out into his bedroom. I stood in the doorway of his bathroom to watch. He opened the closet and pulled out a gray t-shirt.
“It’ll be big on you,” he said. He dug around into the back and pulled out a pair of blue striped pajama bottoms. “These might be too big as well but it at least has a tie.” He hung the clothes over his arm and closed the closet door. I stepped backward into the bathroom and he held out the clothes. Our fingers brushed and his eyes held mine. “Just put your wet things in the bathtub for now. When they aren’t so soggy, we’ll toss them into the dryer.”
I was unable to express to him how warm and welcome he was making me feel. I mustered up my warmest smile. It was all I could manage.
When he spotted it, he paused in his motions to look at me. I wondered if I appeared crazy to him so I tried to backpedal and look just normal -- pursing my lips and looking compliant.
There was a change in his expression that I didn’t quite understand but he turned away and closed the bathroom door behind himself.
After he left, I flipped the lock on the door and stood in the bathroom, looking at my reflection in the mirror. My hair was strung out, even though the clip I had it twisted in hung on. My cheeks and nose were red and my skin looked so pale compared. I felt embarrassed that he saw me like that. The thought of leaving crept into my mind. This was more than I was prepared to handle. Spending a night out was one thing. Staying in a house with a boy pushed thoughts into my head, whispers my mother would recite to me. Rape. Sexual assault. Kidnapping.
Only Kota had shown more warmth and caring toward me than I’d felt from anyone in a long time. Here was proof against everything my mother had taught me about the dangers of the world. The first person I’d met took me in, was making hot chocolate and was inviting me to be his friend.
My heart was pounding at the thought of him coming back. Despite his warmth, despite my own head telling me this was just what people did, that normal people were nice and helpful, I was still nervous at the thought of him knowing anything about me.
Was it better to be alone?
I put on his shirt and pajama pants. The ends of the waist tie hung to my mid-thigh after I tied it off. I rolled the cuffs on the pant legs but my heels were still stepping on the cotton material. I didn’t want to be in the bathroom when he got back so I tiptoed into his bedroom.
The desk was so neat that it looked brand new. The bed was unmade but the corners at the foot of the bed were tucked in sharp angles. He must have gotten up to take out the dog. The sheets were calling to me but I was too uncomfortable to sit on his bed and I was too sore to stand. I moved to the window seat and knelt on the cushion to look out.
Rain splattered against the window. In a way I suppose I was lucky I had run into Kota. I picked a bad night to break into an empty house. Why hadn’t the weather been considered when I thought to do this? I knew the answer to that though. Earlier that day my mother had made a point to lecture me as I was doing the dishes.
“There was a little girl on the news today,” she had said, standing across our kitchen and watching as I rinsed plates. She had her arms folded under her heavy breasts, bulking up the material of her thin burgundy robe around her. “Three men kidnapped her from her front lawn and molested her. It took only a minute.”
It was one of a hundred similar stories I had heard over the week. I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from telling her there were millions of girls who played in the front lawn who weren’t kidnapped. It wouldn’t matter. She wouldn’t listen. It was so overwhelming that to me. I felt I needed to prove it to myself. It was my way of bringing myself into reality and not get swallowed up into the nightmare she insisted was true. One night out of the house would be enough.
“I guess you’re staying,” Kota said behind me. I turned on the bench seat to look at him. He was wearing a clean white t-shirt and a pair of green pajama bottoms. His brown hair was combed away from his eyes. He carried two navy blue mugs with steam spiraling off the top. “I hope you’re good with marshmallows.”
I smiled. Who didn’t love marshmallows?
He tilted his chin toward me. “Scoot over.”
I tucked my knees into my chest and moved toward the window, my back pressed to the wall. Kota took the outside, his back against the opposite wall, and handed me the mug. The warmth from the outside of the cup was a little too much for my hands that were still chilly, so I held it carefully by the handle with my fingertips barely touching the bottom. Blowing gently to cool it, I took a sip, letting the warm, sweet liquid pool over my tongue before sliding down my throat.
“So where did you move from?” He took a sip from his own mug, but his eyes fixed on me.
I blushed and glanced out the window. “A tiny town in Illinois.”
“Did you leave any friends?”
I shook my head and turned back toward him. “No one I would write to. I really wasn’t that close to anyone.”
His hands rubbed at the mug, his thumb tracing the lip and he cast his eyes to the marshmallows floating on top. He had a knee up on the cushion of the window seat. His leg was just a breath away from mine. The almost-touch made my heart flutter. “You’ll be going to the public school, right?”
Why did he say it like that? “Like everyone else, I guess.” For which I was grateful. Despite my mother’s complaints about sending us to school, my father insisted we were allowed. It was the only thing he stepped up to her about. I believed he was sure if we didn’t go to school that she could never keep up with a home school system and the state would be after them.
He looked up, confusion in his face. “What grade?”
“Sophomore,
” I said. I hoped it was okay to be honest.
His head tilted, his eyes sparked. “Me, too. What are you going to take this year?”
I shrugged. “I don’t really know what I want.”
He blinked. A silence stretched between us. We sipped our cocoa together and my eyes flickered from his knee that was so close to mine and the window. It was a strange feeling, like something I had seen out of movies. Two people sharing an evening together and dabbling with small talk. Did people really do things like this? My mind whirled with something to say but I was never good at starting conversations.
After a few moments, he spoke. “Do your parents want you to take something in particular?”
I sighed and nodded. “The daughter of an electrical engineer should have a degree in something. My older sister already started in the arts. I’m getting pushed into science.”
“Would it be that bad? Science is pretty awesome.”
I grimaced. I didn’t want to insult him by being honest. I liked science but I wasn’t sure if it was my favorite. “I don’t know if I want to do that.”
His head tilted as he gazed down at me. “What do you prefer?”
“I’m not sure really,” I said. Thoughts of the paperwork in my room filled my head. I liked this conversation better. It didn’t feel too personal. “There’s so many choices. I don’t know if I want to devote my life to science. Or art. Or something else. It all sounds good.”
He laughed softly. “That sounds familiar.”
I blushed again because I didn’t understand what he meant. I moved the mug up to my lips mostly to feel the heat from the cocoa. “I don’t hate science. I don’t hate anything. It’s like I want everything. Not fully. I just want a touch.” I felt I was rambling and took a sip of cocoa just to get myself to shut up.
He fiddled with his own mug. “Sang... where were you going?”
