Infinite Risk by Ann Aguirre Read Free Book Online Page A

you.”
    Kian let out a long breath as we moved away. “I hate seeing people from school. It’s like, I don’t know, a sudden punch in the face when you least expect it.”
    â€œI’m from school,” I pointed out.
    His eyes lit on my face, skimming my features like he still couldn’t believe I was real. “You’re different.”
    â€œHow?”
    â€œI’m not sure. Just…” He stopped talking and shrugged, unable to put it into words.
    It seemed better not to press, as he was just getting comfortable with me. “Okay. I live near here, so I’ll walk you to the stop.”
    â€œWouldn’t it make more sense for me to see you home?” he asked.
    â€œIt’s okay.” Because then you’d see where I live.
    We walked in silence for those two blocks, his expression pensive. Finally, he said, “So we’re going back to Psychedelic on Friday … and to the movies on Saturday. Right?”
    â€œThat’s the plan.”
    â€œSweet.” It was like he just wanted verbal confirmation or something.
    Though he said I didn’t have to, I waited with him. The bus shelter was open to the wind on one side, so after he sneezed the first time, I huddled against him, remembering when he held me like it was the most natural thing in the world. But he was so nervous with each puff of breath that I feared he’d hyperventilate.
    â€œThis was the best day of my life,” he whispered.
    I said that once too. Because of him. Lights appeared in the snowy night, bus brakes screeching as it slowed. It was hard to let go of him. Kian stepped away and climbed aboard, and each step felt like a thousand miles. He pressed his face against the window and waved for much longer than made sense. But then, I could’ve turned and walked off. The sidewalk was slick with new snow by the time I raced back to the Baltimore. Passing through the grimy gray lobby always made me feel dirty by association. So far, I hadn’t seen the clerk wear more than a stained undershirt and tan trousers; the only way the place could be more disreputable was if they had Plexiglas on top of the counter.
    I meant to pass through quickly, but the guy stopped me with a phlegmy throat clearing. “You’re the one who called about the woman in ten.” It wasn’t a question.
    â€œSo?”
    â€œBetter mind your business.” That sounded like a threat, and I wouldn’t get a refund if he kicked me out.
    â€œOkay.”
    If he planned to say more, I didn’t wait for it. I ran up the stairs to the second floor and locked myself behind the chain, like that was secure. The pleasure I’d gotten from hanging out with Kian chilled like the lonely swirls of snow frosting my window. My reality was bleak; the best I could hope for was to return to my time, but I didn’t even know if this device worked that way. By leaving my world, I might’ve erased it and replaced it with this reality.
    I sighed. The weather made me want to buy a mask and cape, then go loom broodingly—or brood loomingly—atop a tall building. The note the Harbinger had left was still on my pressboard table. Reading it again cheered me a little. Since he was right, and Cup Noodles were delicious, I had some for dinner, along with an apple and a slug of milk. I should buy a multivitamin. Can time travelers get scurvy?
    After waiting an hour, I texted, Did you get home okay?
    No problems. Kian responded fast enough that I wondered if he was holding his phone, thinking about me.
    Probably I should let it go for now, but my room was so quiet, hard not to think about the woman next door who died alone. So I sent, today was fun, just to keep the conversation open. My phone was silent long enough that I felt like a dipshit staring at it.
    Kian: You wearing your shirt tomorrow?
    Me: Definitely. We should clean our closets and go back there. I bet she has some cool stuff