She nodded, gathering her things, her limbs strangely heavy. At the door, she glanced back. Just once.
Kian was still standing there—still watching her, smalland hopeful against the yellow walls, the old piano.
The curse was still in him. Burrowed deep. She knew that.
But now it was undeniable: Something was changing in her, too.
Chapter 20
Riya was a few minutes late to lunch.
She’d been stopped in the hallway by Hana, the panicked president of the Techno Appreciation Society. Apparently, Hana had forgotten to submit her club’s registration form, which meant it had been operating against school regulations.
“This may be a silly question,” Riya said, scanning the paperwork, “but what exactly do you do in the Techno Appreciation Society?”
Hana blinked. “O-oh! Are—you’re asking me?”
“Yes...?” Riya looked up. “Youarethe president, right?”
“I—yes! Yes, I am. I just didn’t think you—uh, you know, talked to people like that.”
Riya frowned. “Like what?”
“Like... so nice.”
A beat.
“I can be nice,” Riya said.
Hana looked horrified. “No—I didn’t mean it like that! You’re just usually so—like—focused. Intense. Like a hawk. With a clipboard. But it’s cool! I respect it!”
Riya blinked, unsure if that was a compliment.
“We listen to techno,” Hana added hurriedly. “And electronica. And dance music. We’re scheduled to DJ thewinter formal in December. And I’m helping with the Talent Show, too. So—please don’t disband us.”
Riya slipped the form into her Student Council folder. “Well, everything looks up to snuff. For all intents and purposes, it’ll be like the registration form was always there.”
Hana’s eyes went wide. “Really? No punishment?”
“Just don’t make it a habit, please.”
Hana beamed. “Wow. This is the nicest conversation I’ve had all week. Come to our meetings sometime! You’d be surprised how good techno is for stress.”
Riya watched her go, feeling strangely... lighter.
She’d almost forgotten what it was like. To actually be helpful.
By the time Riya finally made it to the cafeteria, she spotted Mel sitting in her usual seat—and beside her, Kian.
“What is happening?” Riya asked cautiously, sliding into the seat across from them.
This was not a duo she’d anticipated. Nor wanted. Mel and a love-cursed Kian felt like two tuning forks humming at the same love-starved frequency. The thought of them feeding into each other’s energy made her stomach somersault—the same kind of somersault her dad attempted last summer at her sisters’ urging, nearly dislocating his hip.
“Oh, Riya!” Mel beamed. “Kian’s been giving me tips on romance so I can finally talk to Andrew.”
“You told Kian about Andrew?”
“Hard not to notice,” Kian said. “The pining was practically audible.”
