The Siren

Me too.

“Well, I think I’d let the relationship suffer a little if it meant I could do more in the afternoons. Look at you. You’re free to sit in the sun and creepily draw pictures of people you don’t even know. How great is that?”

I smirked. I often thought of myself as kind of creepy. This was the first time it sounded like a good thing.

It’s the clothes! I argued, pointing to the pages.

“Uh-huh. Whatever you say. But don’t mind me. I’m just jealous. I can’t draw at all. The only thing I know how to make is a frog. I learned how in the first grade, and I never forgot. The key is starting with a football shape,” he said, his voice full of mock expertise. “If you get that wrong, the whole thing goes downhill.”

Can’t cook. Can’t draw. What can you do?

“Excellent question. Um … I can fish. Family thing, much like the terrible, terrible first name. I can text in complete sentences. Oh, yeah, it’s a skill.” He smiled, proud of his accomplishments. “And, thanks to my mom being a competitive dancer as a teen, I know how to do the Lindy hop and the jitterbug.”

I sat bolt upright, and Akinli rolled his eyes.

“I swear, if you tell me you can jitterbug, I’m going to … I don’t even know. Set something on fire. No one can dance like that.”

I pursed my lips and dusted off my shoulder, a thing I’d seen Elizabeth do when she was bragging.

As if he was accepting a challenge, he shrugged off his backpack and stood, holding out a hand for me.

I took it and positioned myself in front of him as he shook his head, grinning.

“All right, we’ll take this slow. Five, six, seven, eight.”

In unison, we rock stepped and triple stepped, falling into the rhythm in our head. After a minute, he got brave and swung me around, lining me up for those peppy kicks I loved so much.

People walked by, pointing and laughing, but it was one of those moments when I knew we weren’t being mocked; we were being envied.

We stepped on each other’s toes more than once, and after he accidentally knocked his head into my shoulder, he threw his hands up.

“Unbelievable,” he said, almost as if he was complaining. “I can’t wait to tell my mom this. She’s gonna think I’m lying. All those years dancing in the kitchen thinking I was special, and then I run across a master.”

We sat back down under the tree, and I started collecting my things. That was a pretty little moment, and I was almost afraid another minute in his presence would break it.

“So you didn’t make that cake yet?”

I shook my head.

“Well, since you’re swearing off clubs, and I’m swearing off driving for drunks, and there’s really not an appropriate venue downtown to show off our dance skills, why don’t we make it this weekend?”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Look, I know what I said about being a bad cook, but I think you could keep me from ruining it.”

Now who’s overestimating skills?

He laughed. “No, seriously, I think it’d be fun. If all else fails, I’ve got some Easy Mac in my room, so we’ll at least have something to eat.”

I shrugged, dubious but tempted. Elizabeth could regularly go to a stranger’s apartment, be as intimate as two people could be, and live to tell the tale. So, maybe I could bake in a dorm kitchen without murdering someone?

“You seem nervous. You got a boyfriend?”

He said the last as if he was only belatedly realizing the obvious.

I wrote NO in big letters on the paper.

He chuckled again. “Okay.” He took the pen from my hand, scribbling onto a sticky note. “Here’s my number. If you decide you want to come over, text me.”

I nodded and took his number, and his whole face lit up. He checked his phone.

“All right, now I’m running late.” He pushed himself up to his feet. “Catch you later, Kahlen.” He pointed at me. “See? I remembered.”

I fought my smile, not wanting him to know how much the small gesture made my day.

I waved as he left, feeling almost giddy when, just before he went around a building, he looked over his shoulder at me.

A foreign, sparkling feeling was rising in my chest. I’d been nineteen long enough to observe other boys this age. I knew that romances were many and fleeting and that this attention couldn’t last. Still, it was a magical feeling, and I was grateful once again for this boy I barely knew.

I felt like I understood Elizabeth on a new level. She craved a physical connection, and she achieved it as best she could. Miaka spent hours typing to people on her computer or phone, wanting to connect intellectually. That was what made them feel alive. Me? I’d been slaving away for the Ocean, hoping that at the end of it all, I’d find a romantic connection in my future life.

Truth was, there was no way to be sure I could get it. But as I sat there under the tree, something became clear. I wasn’t worried. I wasn’t sad. I wasn’t even thinking that far into the future, because all I could think of was each minute with Akinli as it happened. Maybe the key for me to move forward wasn’t to eliminate everything I was feeling; maybe all I needed to do was focus on the one feeling that made all the others seem small.

I pulled out my phone, laughing at how useless this thing was for me. I did research on it or distracted myself with it more than anything. Under my contacts were three numbers, and Aisling’s wasn’t even current.

I typed in the new one, fingers hesitating.

Akinli? It’s Kahlen. If you’re still up for it, I’d love to make some cake this weekend.

I let out a long breath and pressed Send. I gathered my things to head home, brushing the grass off the back of my skirt.

Before I could make it to the edge of campus, my phone buzzed.

I’ve got pans!

6 (#ulink_dc5cbe74-223d-516d-bdbb-b2b7ebd86740)

I lived for four days in a secret world of absolute bliss. I didn’t sleep at all, because, for the first time in a long time, being awake was so much better. I spent hours looking up recipes, trying to find one that was a little above what a novice might make but wouldn’t be too complicated for a dorm kitchen.

I could feel the weight of my sisters’ stares as I hummed to myself. They didn’t question the sudden lift in my mood, perhaps knowing I would remain close lipped. But when my giddiness didn’t fade after a few days, I began to wonder how one boy was having such an effect on me.

I told myself that it was completely normal to think wonderful thoughts about someone whose last name I didn’t even know. People had crushes on actors and musicians and celebrities they had absolutely no chance of meeting in real life. At least I’d planted my affections on someone who actually knew me.

I continually anticipated the next moment we’d be together, trying to keep the whole thing playful and light. I’d text, You provide the oven and utensils, and I’ll bring all the ingredients?

He’d reply, I will also bring my stomach. Because cake > actual food. Deal!

How do you feel about cream cheese frosting? I’d ask.