Page 39 of Embrace

“I look like my dad. Same eyes. Same hair. After he was gone, when she was depressed, she couldn’t look at me. Part of her can’t separate us, and she gets angry, like she’s pissed at him for…dying? I don’t know.”

I reach for his wrist without thinking. “That’s not fair. You should get to be with your family.”

“I have my family right here at Dalton,” he says proudly.

If I could crawl inside his head and peel back the layers, I’d probably try to find out how he holds on to the good parts without letting the broken ones bury him.

“I like that one,” I say, hoping to cut the tension by pointing to the red snake on his thigh. He grins like it means something more to him. I don’t tell him about the one I have on my back.

Kian delves into the details about his tattoo. He talks fast, like I’ll stop listening. As if there’s a time limit. I think I’d be happy listening to him talk about the things he loves forever.

Suddenly, an alarm blares, and from the sound of the loud music coming from it, it’s not mine. “Toxic” by Britney Spears continues at a high pitch, and Kian turns over to pull the phone from his jeans that he must have stripped off while he was asleep.

“That’s my alarm for practice.”

The mention of practice makes me fall back a bit. It reminds me how much I can’t want this, whatever it is.

I watch him then, looking at his phone, littered with texts from all the people who love him checking in. A part of me feels like a stranger, watching someone from a kitchen window. I nearly forgotthat Kian and I aren’t friends, not really. A sort of longing finds its way into me, and I quietly tuck away my sheets.

I look for my laptop and bag, ready to study until my first class of the day, to go back to my real life, where I’ve got one friend and a whole lot of deadlines.

“Anyway, I handed in my first stats assignment early. It was like riding a bike.”

“Does that mean it was easy?” I ask, and he just looks at me. “What? I don’t know how to ride a bike.”

Kian’s mouth falls agape. “You’re kidding.”

“Why would I kid about that? It’s clearly very embarrassing.” I start to turn away, but he doesn’t let me.

“Let me teach you,” he says, the usual teasing tone gone, replaced by something softer.

I brace myself for the jokes, for the sarcastic comments, for him to laugh about how I missed one of the most basic milestones every kid hits by age five. But it never comes.

He doesn’t even push for the backstory. I don’t have to explain that Victor never taught me, complaining that he was tired after work and passed out on the couch while my mom had her night shifts. We didn’t even have a bike for me to practice on. So when I tried to ride Sierra’s, the one without the training wheels, I busted my knee. I never got on one again.

Kian’s thumb brushes against my wrist, pulling me out of it.

“We’re full-grown adults,” I start, trying to deflect, “I’m not going to let you teach me how to ride a bike.”

“That’s bullshit,” he fires back. “We’re barely adults. And who cares? I learned how to swim just a few years ago.”

I glance up, his face inches from mine, and he looks entirely too sure of himself, like he won’t take no for an answer.

“You’re really going to make me ride a bike?”

His mouth tips into that familiar grin, his eyes glinting. “Youmight suck at it. And I’m going to laugh. But I’ll catch you if you fall.”

He says that, but I know he wouldn’t laugh at me. He would have done that already.

“You’re actually serious.”

“You’re the one who showed up not knowing how to ride a bike, Scar. I’m just the solution.”

Thirteen

Kian

“I look stupid,”Scarlett mutters.