Anya broke... the...silence, her... voice...dry... and...a little...breathless.
"You... gonna...stare at it... or...are you...gonna...grab it?"
Kian, for the first time since the cafeteria, felt a genuine, unfamiliar spark of amusement. He was so used to people reacting to him with fear or fawning that her direct, witty challenge was... refreshing.
His fingers closed around the cold glass bottle. He took it.
He didn't put it in his basket. He just held it, looking at her, a tiny, almost-smile playing on his lips. "You hesitated. You lost."
Anya laughed, a quiet, sharp sound. "I didn't lose. I was just surprised to see someone else in this town with decent taste. I... I guess...I'll...have to...settle for...the...water."
"A tragedy," Kian said, his voice flat. He looked at her. The sweat-suit. The damp hair. "You were at the rec center." It wasn't a question.
She raised an eyebrow, impressed. "How'd you guess?"
"You're flushed," he said, his voice a simple, observational statement. "Your hair is damp. And... you smell... like...a...gym. It's... an...obvious...conclusion."
Anya's smile returned, this time with a flash of real respect. He hadn't just guessed. He knew the smell.
"So... you like basketball?" she asked, grabbing a water.
Kian tensed. The wall... slammed...down. Hard.
"No," he said, his voice cold. "It's... not...worth my...time."
Anya stopped, her hand on the cooler door. She looked at him. Really... looked. She saw the shift. The open, amused boy... was gone. The 'Ice King'... was back.
She... was...intrigued. He wasn't... just...aloof. He was...defensive.
"Oh," she said, her voice soft, not pushing. "That's... a...very...strong...opinion... for...something...'not worth your time'. You... are...an...interesting...guy, Kian Vance."
Kian hated... that. He...hated...being...'interesting'.
And Kian... smiled.
It wasn't a smirk. It wasn't a tell. It was a real, tiny, lopsided... smile.
Anya saw it. She stopped, her own smile fading, replaced by... surprise. "Wow," she breathed. "There it is."
"What," Kian said, his own smile vanishing, his defenses slamming back up.
"That," Anya said, pointing. "You... you...looked...almost...human... for a second. You...should do that...more. You're...not...as...scary...when you...smile."
Kian... was...floored. He... was...the one... who...observed...people. He...was...the one... who...delivered...the...brutal...truth.
She... had...just...done it...to him.
He... had...no...counter. He... just...stared.
Anya laughed, a real, light... sound. "You... see? You're...doing it...again. You...look...like...a...computer...that...just...crashed. Relax, Vance. It...was...a...compliment."
Kian flushed. He... hated...this. He grabbed his tea and... stalked... towards...the...checkout.
Anya laughed again, following him.
They paid for their drinks... separately. They walked out... of the...supermarket, back...into the...cold, quiet...night.
They stood... on the...sidewalk. The air... was...awkward. But...good.
"Well," Anya said, hugging... her...sweatshirt... tighter. "This... was...less...boring... than...I...expected. My...interaction...with you... I mean."
"My... social...interactions... are...rarely...boring," Kian said, his...facade...rebuilding.
"Right," she said, smiling. She looked... at him. "So. Tomorrow. Same...bus...seat?"
Kian looked... at her. Her...green eyes... were...bright... under the...streetlight. She...was...a...puzzle. But...a...good...one.
"It's... a...public...bus," he said. "But... I...won't...put...my...bag...on the...seat."
That was...a...'yes'... in...Kian-speak.
"Good," Anya said. "And... Kian?"
He looked... at her. She...had...used...his...first name.
"You're right," she said. "This... was...less boring. Goodnight, Vance."
She didn't... wait...for a...reply. She turned... and...jogged...off...into the...darkness.
Kian was...left...alone... on the...sidewalk.
He... hated... that...he...was...smiling.
He walked...home, his...mind...anything...but...quiet.
Unseen, across the street, hidden in the deep shadow of a hardware store's loading dock, a figure... lowered...her...phone.
Sienna James looked... at the...photo...she...had...just...taken. Kian. Anya. Standing...close. Talking. Smiling.
Her... face... was...a...mask...of...bitter, humiliated... rage. He...had...rejected...her. He...had...humiliated...her. For...THIS? This...sweaty...transfer?
She had...her...weapon.