“That sounds awesome.”
That settled, he turned the car toward Harvard Square. It took about fifteen minutes to get there, longer to find parking. The night was clear, though light pollution prevented me from stargazing. All of the weirdness and paranoia seemed so far away as I followed Kian toward the theater. It was a tiny place, compared with the multiplexes, inside what looked like a brown brick house, but the college students wandering around told me we were in the right place. Most of them had backpacks, and there were a lot of bikes chained up outside.
There was no choice as to what to watch; we ended up with tickets for Enter the Dragon. I loved old flicks more than modern ones, though I had a soft spot for all sci-fi, especially cult classics like Highlander and Blade Runner. Kian got in line for popcorn while I realized I had no idea what kind of movies he liked, if he was a reader … I knew so little about his personality, other than our shared connection with Wedderburn and the immortal game.
This is so weird. And backward. Life and death aren’t usually part of a first date.
“What’s your favorite film?” I asked, as he turned to hand me a drink.
“Casablanca, followed closely by Notorious.”
“You’re a classic movie nerd.” I grinned at him.
“Guilty. I had such a thing for Ingrid Bergman.”
Inside, the theater was small and intimate, decidedly old-fashioned. I loved everything about it. During the movie, Kian wiped his hand on his thigh repeatedly until I solved his apparent inner conflict by threading my fingers through his. He pushed out a soft breath and smiled at me, like I’d solved some weighty calculus problem. This quiet moment made him feel real in a way that making out couldn’t. It was adorable that while he might kiss me a dark car, he was nervous about how I’d react to a public display of affection, even one so mild.
A hundred and ten minutes later, we filed out of the movie while this ineffable realization sang through my veins: I just had an actual date with a guy who agreed it was a date. I could’ve skipped up the steps into the lobby, no lie; it was childish, I realized, but I didn’t care. Silently beaming, I held Kian’s hand as he wove through the crowd.
According to my phone, it was nearly half past eleven. That left him enough time to get me home on time, early even. While I’d like to stay out later, maybe go back to the diner where it all began, I had to keep my parents happy. With so much real danger for them to worry about, though they didn’t know they should be, I couldn’t afford to let them fret over me missing curfew.
“How are things at school?” he asked, as he opened my car door.
His unfailing attention to good manners instituted a whisper of doubt. You still don’t know for sure that he’s Kian Riley. He loves old movies. He behaves like a courtly gentleman. Everything about him could be a lie. Distrust hurt, forcibly piercing my happy glow like spikes of ice. Maybe … he’s one of them.
Still, I tried not to show my sudden apprehension. “It doesn’t feel like I expected. I hate being a bitch. And … one of the girls is really sick.”
“Brittany?”
My blood chilled, frosty fingers tapping at the base of my skull. “How do you know?”
“You mentioned visiting her at the hospital.”
Did I? I remembered talking to my dad about it, but I couldn’t recall having that conversation with Kian. No, I sent a text, but—Is he still watching me? Or is the explanation even worse? This constant suspicion meant that I couldn’t even be certain the thoughts belonged to me. What if the opposition was blighting me through some kind of gizmo like the Oracle interface Wedderburn had shown me?
I decided to be honest. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t name her when I messaged you.”
“It’s still my job to look out for you,” he said quietly.
“So after I told you I didn’t need a ride, you came to the hospital? That’s—”
“Creepy, I know.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Wedderburn sent me. The watch tracks if I follow orders, remember?”
Given what I knew of his boss, that was probably true. That doesn’t mean I like it.
“Then why did you bother asking about school if you’re stalking me?”
He swallowed hard, visibly hurt. “Because I wanted to hear your thoughts and feelings, Edie. I can only tell so much from surveillance.” His jaw clenched. “You already know I’ve spent a long damn time watching you. From the outside.”
I registered his anger, but I couldn’t respond right away. Too many thoughts were whirling in my head, demanding to be heard. Eventually I let the issue drop by saying, “When I went to see Brittany, she looked awful, and none of her family was there. No friends, either.” It wasn’t full acceptance or forgiveness of him creeping around behind my back, but right then, it was the best I could do.
Kian sounded subdued. “It’s one thing when you’re alone and you always have been. You get used to it. But to have the awareness dumped on you—your only value is your pretty face, and if you don’t have that anymore, what good are you? That’s rough.”
I recollected telling him how I felt about her, dumping it all over him that night on the shore. I’d said, But I look at Brittany, who held the camera, and I think, What would it take to break you? Would I have to mess up her face?
Damn. And just look at her now.
That possibility chilled me more than the semi-stalking on boss’s orders. I shook my head, shivering a little. There was just no way. Sometimes bad things happen, nothing to do with you. Allergic reaction, bacterial infection. If karma is real, then Brit’s getting what she put into the universe, that’s all.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “But honestly, she’s not the worst. I still hate Cameron more than anyone, and this week, Russ was an absolute ass**le. Like, he has no redeeming features I can see, he’s just a waste of oxygen.”
I wanted so bad to believe Kian had nothing to do with any of this, and Wedderburn didn’t either. He asked me if I wanted him to take revenge for me. I said no. What more can I do? My lack of power in this situation could easily drive me crazy. It’s fine, when nothing happens to Russ and Cam, I’ll know Kian is innocent.
“You’ll get them all in time.”
I shivered. He didn’t mean ‘get’ how it sounded.
With suspicion echoing in my head, I was quiet the rest of the way, watching the clock on his dash tick toward midnight. He parked the car at thirteen minutes ’til and then he shifted, facing me. I didn’t want to make out when I was so confused; I had the crazy idea that he’d be able to taste the difference. So I leaned over, kissed his cheek and said good night, before he could ask why I was blowing him off, after I’d practically asked him to be my boyfriend earlier.