Of course he’d noticed.
But Kian looked drained, too. The dark circles beneath his eyes were more pronounced, and his skin was paler than ever. She wondered if the nightmares were getting worse.
“I know the full moon’s in six days,” Kian continued, “so you’re under a lot of stress. With the curse and Caltech—and the Talent Show, too, right? Mel’s also been pretty worried.”
Riya winced. Had it really been that obvious?
Then she remembered. “Oh, right. I told her about the curse.”
“She told me.” Kian smiled faintly. “Point is, we’re both worried. You kept dropping things in the hallway. Zoning out. I even saw you snapping at Quin in the hallway—although, honestly, that part was great.”
Earlier that day, Riya had yelled at Quin for attempting to buy brand-new speakers with the Student Council budget. “You don’t like Quin very much, do you?”
“Of course not. Something about them irks me.” Kian made a face. “But still. It’s clear you’re on edge.”
His gaze met hers and held it. “Is it... the lack of progress on breaking the curse?”
The answer curled against her throat, thick and unwelcome.
She could tell him. Right now. She could tell him everything. That she’d found a way to break the curse. That there was a cost.
“I’m just tired,” she said.
Kian nodded slowly, fingers fiddling with the knot of one of the balloons. “. . . Okay.”
The balloons bobbed behind her, rustling faintly in the breeze like they were listening.
Riya cleared her throat. “Your lyric notebook,” she said. “You mentioned yesterday you were working on something?”
“Oh.” Kian flushed. “Yeah. It’s no big deal. Just... a new song.”
He was acting strangely sheepish about it.
“Is it for your Berklee audition?”
“It could be. Maybe.” Kian hesitated, then looked away. “I’m hoping I’ll get to try it out before then.”
“Like a trial run?”
“Exactly.”
Kian was still planning for the future—because he still believed there would be one. Because he believed in her.
That should have been a comfort. Instead, it hurt.
“Can I ask you something?” she said, voice almost lost to the wind.
“Always.”
She looked at her lap. “If the curse is broken... and you forget everything—what happens next?”
He looked at her. No hesitation. No doubt.
“I told you. I refuse to completely forget.” His words were low and fierce, like it physically hurt him to imagine otherwise. “I’d find my way back somehow. I’d see you in the hall andfeelit. Like when an old song plays on the radioand you still remember every word. I’d remember without remembering. You’d say something sarcastic and roll your eyes at me, and it would all come rushing back.”
“Kian—”
He smiled. “There’s no universe where I just let you go. I’d fall for you all over again. Every time.”
