“I don’t know,” I reply honestly. I’m starting to thaw. “I liked it better than the slap.”
He flops on the bed next to me, and we both lie shoulder to shoulder looking up as the waning sunlight moves across the ceiling. My teeth stop chattering. I glance at him; his shirt is wet with sweat.
“Did you carry me all the way back from the gazebo in the woods?”
“Yes, and you weigh a ton,” he lies. “I’ll have to stop feeding you pancakes.”
I study his cameo-perfect profile. His blond hair covers mine. “What happened?”
“You’re asking me? I’m not the one who just came back from the future.”
“You found me on the ground in the gazebo?”
“Yes. It will be dark soon. You should’ve been back sooner. I went looking for you.”
“Were you worried?” I ask with a frown. “I thought you said we’re safe here from attack.”
“A lot of things can happen here. There are other ways to get hurt.”
“Oh.” I shrug that off. “I can take care of myself.”
“Clearly,” he scoffs, gesturing in my direction.
“I’m all right,” I murmur.
“A few more moments away from your body and you wouldn’t have been. I tried everything I knew to get you to come back.”
“Clearly. The bean was genius,” I tease him.
“You were gone a long time. You must have seen something very important.”
“I didn’t see anything,” I lie.
“And I didn’t just hit you.”
I need to change the subject. I turn toward him, drawing my legs up. “Why do you hate your dad?”
He shows no emotion as he says, “You didn’t seem to like him much, either.”
My laughter is hollow. “I tend not to like people who want to kill me. It’s this rule I have.”
“He wants to kill me too. He wants to kill anything he can’t control.”
“He can’t control you?” I ask.
“Not anymore. Not for a very long time.”
“So we’re allies in that.”
“In what? In staying alive?” he asks with a small smile.
“Yes,” I say softly.
“If you’d like,” he replies.
“I’d much rather go home.”
“You are home.”
I turn away from him and look up at the ceiling once more. “That’s funny—this doesn’t look anything like my apartment in Chicago.”
“You’ve outgrown Chicago,” Kyon replies. He leans over and kisses me quickly on the cheek. He rolls to the edge of the bed and stands. Peeling off his damp shirt, he tosses it on a nearby chair. He turns to me, and I get an eyeful of his ridiculous physique. He looks fake—someone had to have airbrushed his abdomen or something because it’s too perfect. I can feel myself blushing. I look back at the ceiling again.
“I’m going for a swim. Do you need anything before I go?”
I shake my head no.
“You’re sure you’re feeling better?” he asks.
“I’m good.”
“I’ll be back, and then we can dine together.”
“Fine.”
He leaves then, and I crawl up to the pillows on the bed. Resting my head against one, I stretch out beneath the blanket, bringing it up to my neck. While Kyon is distracted, I should probably check out the house for weapons and places to hide, but I’m beat. I feel like I’ve been run over and my head is achy. I reach under my pillow, finding that the knife I’d stashed there this morning is still there. I shove it back under the pillow and close my eyes.
“Kricket.” Kyon’s deep voice penetrates my groggy mind.
“What?” I groan, trying to cling to sleep. I squint at him and see that it’s dark outside.
“Are you hungry?” he asks, stroking my hair.
“You’re waking me up to see if I’m hungry?” I ask soporifically.
“Yes,” Kyon murmurs.
“You’re so mean,” I grumble. “I was sleeping! I never get to sleep on this stupid planet!” I sigh. “Someone is always chasing me, or hitting me, or waking me up. This planet is so rude.”
Kyon laughs. “So you’re not hungry?”
I turn away from him and bury my head beneath another pillow. Kyon stretches out next to me and slides me to his chest. I would pull away, but I don’t have the energy to fight him. I feel like I’ve been awake for days. “Go to sleep then,” he whispers near my ear.
I try to ignore him.
“You’re safe here.”
I sigh heavily and turn over to face him, saying “Shh!” as I cover his mouth with my hand. I can feel him laughing beneath it. He pulls my hand away from his mouth and threads his fingers through mine. He rests his chin against the top of my head and doesn’t say another word.