Infinite Risk by Ann Aguirre Page B

get comfortable.”
    I climbed into bed and pulled up the covers because the radiator wasn’t winning against the storm outside. Pillow tucked behind me, I settled in to watch the movie. Kian followed suit, though I could tell he was nervous, pretending to be nonchalant. But I acted oblivious, and he soon relaxed, swept into the adventure unfolding on screen. Truthfully, it wasn’t the most riveting thing I ever watched, mostly because World War I wasn’t my jam, so I got sleepy as I warmed up. My mind wandered to the nights I’d spent in Kian’s apartment with his arms around me, dozing through something he loved.
    â€œHow do you like it so far?” he whispered.
    â€œIt’s good.”
    â€œYou’ve been asleep for the last five minutes.”
    â€œI was watching with my eyes closed. To better engage my imagination.”
    Kian laughed. “Ah, so that’s where they lost you—all the visuals. Maybe we should check into some old radio shows.”
    â€œMaybe.”
    â€œSeriously, though, you can sleep if you’re tired. Just tell me where I’m supposed to—”
    â€œHere is fine. I trust you not to do anything, but if you try, I’ll kill you.” Because I smiled when I said it, he couldn’t tell if it was serious.
    â€œI w-wouldn’t,” he stammered.
    â€œKidding. I do trust you.”
    Somehow I stayed awake for the epic conclusion where Charlie and Rose escaped execution via torpedoes or something. By then it was after eleven, so it didn’t seem as lame to call it a day. I went to the bathroom first, brushed my teeth, then waved Kian in. “You can use some of my toothpaste if you want.”
    â€œThanks.”
    By the time he came out, I was already snuggled in bed under the blankets. They were thin and raspy, and I’d piled all of them on the bed. At least the much-washed top sheet was soft, if pilled with age. Kian slid in on the other side as if we did this all the time.
    And in another world, another life, we might.
    â€œThe mattress is kind of lumpy, and there’s one spring—”
    â€œFound it,” he groaned.
    â€œI’d offer to flip the mattress, but the other side is worse. Just take my word for it.”
    â€œNine…” He sounded like he wanted to ask something.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI noticed there’s only one set of everything in the bathroom. When you said your dad doesn’t pay much attention … I mean, how long has it been since you saw him?”
    â€œThree weeks? Maybe a month.” I kept my voice matter-of-fact.
    â€œSo who pays the rent on this place, buys food…” Kian seemed to realize the answer was obvious, so he let that go. “Are you even safe here?”
    â€œMaybe not, but I prefer this kind of danger to living under somebody else’s roof, where they have all the power, and they can do anything they want to me. I’m emancipated, okay?”
    He paused, probably calculating the likelihood that I had actual documents putting me in charge of my own life. “You mean you ran away.”
    â€œIt’s basically the same thing.”
    He made a sound that said he disagreed with me, but he finally whispered, “I can see your point. Sometimes I’d rather be alone than burden my uncle any more. It’s really hard when you feel so unwelcome.”
    â€œYou don’t get along with your relatives?”
    â€œMy younger cousins are okay, but I get stuck watching them whenever my aunt feels like going out. And that’s the only time she ever talks to me—to tell me to do something. It’s like she thinks I work for her.”
    â€œPeople are assholes,” I muttered.
    â€œNo, that’s seriously it.” He sounded like he’d come to some realization. “I’m in her house, eating her food. So she figures I should pay it back. No wonder she gets mad that I spend so much time in my