His enthusiasm swept in like a storm, his voice was loud, too obvious, drawing attention. Even standing still, he was too much: dyed-blond hair in a brambled mess, an ill-fitting blackTame Impalasweatshirt. And a guitar case, slung over his shoulder like a prop in a typical teen movie.
“Hello,” she said flatly, arms crossed. “You’re in my way.”
“Oh! My bad,” said Kian, stepping aside from her locker. “Actually, I was hoping we could talk some more. Which—hey, we’re doing that right now, so that’s—uh—really great.” He wiped his hands down the front of his jeans, nervous energy practically radiating off him. “Reallygreat. Um, have you thought about what I said? Yesterday?”
“I have. And keep your voice down.” One public disaster per week was enough.
“Wow, okay. Is this—is this really happening? Are we actually going to start dat—”
“Absolutely not.” She’d learned from being VP that there was no point in softening rejections.
Something in Kian’s face cracked. His breath caught, like she’d struck something raw.
“O-oh. Okay. Yeah. I get it. I mean, I guess Ididjust dropall this on you out of the blue,” he reasoned, nodding to himself. “Who would want to go steady without, you know, getting to know each other first?”
“I’m glad you understand,” she said, opening her locker.
For a moment, it almost seemed like he did.
But then Kian leaned closer, hovering at her shoulder—or by it, since he was almost two inches shorter than she was.
Riya felt her muscles grow tense.Too close.
“Well, what if we went on a couple of dates first?” he asked. “You could get to know me more, and then we’ll see where that takes us.”
Riya stared.
“Or—is it that you don’t feel safe around me yet?” he asked. “Because that’s fair. I get it. It’s not like you know me that well, and, like—shit’s wild out there. I read this UN report on gender-based violence, and it’s bad. My dad always says if a girl says yes to a date, it’s a big deal. Means she trusts you enough to be alone with you, and you don’t take that for granted.”
He exhaled, fingers twisting around the strap of his guitar case. “But, Riya, Ireallylike you,” he said, quieter now. “I mean it. And if you don’t believe me, I’ll prove it. Just, tell me how. I’ll do anything. Shoulder rubs. Homework. Destroy your enemies.Anything.”
Riya had expected desperation. Clinginess. Maybe even frustration. But this overwhelming, unshakable earnestness was throwing her off balance.
You’re the one who did this to him, she reminded herself,gripping the edge of her locker door.
Riya pinched at the bridge of her nose, forcing her mind back into focus.
“That’s not necessary,” she said. “I understand you think you feel that way, but—”
“I do feel that way,” Kian interrupted, gaze unwavering. “I really, really do.”
“The thing is,” she continued, jaw tight, “there’s nothing to prove. It’s just—I think it’s best that we keep our distance for now. Just until things settle. Space gives people... perspective, right?”
“Huh. Doesn’t that usually apply to people who already know each other?”
She forced a nod. “Sometimes. But your confession was... sudden. And I need time to process. To make sure neither of us is—ah—confusedabout our feelings.”
Kian grinned. “I’m not confused. I’ve never been this sure about anything.”
Riya stiffened.
She had spent years organizing schedules, negotiating disputes, and steering people toward logical solutions. She knew how to navigate conflict. How to de-escalate. How to redirect.
But Kian wasn’t following the rules, or even reality.
Which only made her more certain they needed space—if only he’d cooperate.
“The thing is,” she said, “I have a lot on my plate rightnow, and you’re a distraction I don’t need.”
