Things were much simpler when she was fixing things, especially old, vintage materials that most people ignored. Those had a history of tender hands adjusting the delicate instruments and loving minds researching how to improve this piece of machinery. Technology had always appealed to her because of the promise they held, the constant improvement, the progress one could make with a single piece of metal.

Chiara gently pressed the rotator back into place, closing the lid again.

“Try it now.”

“Are you sure you don’t-“

“Yup.”

“But you might-“

“Nope.”

“Jay,”

“I’m fine.”

Brody sighed, leaning an elbow on the sill of the rolled down window of his bright red convertible. The cold wind ruffled through his hair, zealous despite the fact that they were not moving. The Hilton manager was pretty sure that he had not even parked in a legal parking spot, but Jay had insisted.

The Strip was definitely different from any shopping center he had ever known.

Something smelled amazing.

At home, though, the kitchen was so set apart that smells did not often drift through the house.

What was going on?


“Hey, Jay. Wake up.”

The night seemed colder without her bike. Maybe it had not seemed too cold because she was done faster. On wheels, she could finish twelve neighborhoods in four hours. At this rate, she was going to wear through her battered, hand-me-down tennis shoes before finishing her third.

Maybe it was a little too weird.

Chiara looked down at the covered plate in her hands again. Aromatic wafts of chocolate still emanated from beneath the wax paper and it was warm against her hands. He had said he was not vegan, but what if he had food allergies? She had not asked. What was she thinking? If Alan knew, she would never hear the end of it. Holly might have been even worse. How could she bring herself to such a level? Her eyes flicked up again to the dark wood door looming in front of her. The gold plate at eye level taunted her with its inscription.

He liked it up high, where the wind was cold and bit his cheeks.

Most did not think to look for the heir to the world’s largest business conglomerate on the roof, so he was usually safe to think up there.

The thin carpet jarred beneath his polished shoes. Somehow, even the ground felt frozen.

Why did she like it here?

Brody slowly took the steps down the cold metal bleachers, listening to the benches clang beneath his soles with every step. She did not even look up, her face fixed forward, elbows on her bare knees, chin in her hands.

Staring at the ice rink.

Holly’s fingers drummed incessantly on the desktop.

Chiara slowly looked up at her, holding her page in her Goethe. Her best friend sat stick straight in the ancient wooden chair, her chin in one hand and the other maintaining a consistent rhythm that punched into Chiara’s consciousness as her eyes bored into Chiara’s forehead.

Otherwise, it was completely silent.

She slept in way too late.

“Cheech, aren’t you going to eat something before you go?”

“No time, Mom, gotta go!” Chiara grabbed a bagel and ran for the door, her hair flying loose around her shoulders. Grant frowned.

“Where’s your bike?”

She froze by the door. She needed an excuse, something to say so they would never worry about her.

“Uh, I...I left it at school. I forgot it. Gotta go, see you all later!”

“Wait, Cheech!”

The gravel had become an even greater enemy than Jay Newhall.

Chiara slowly wheeled her bike across the flawless cobblestones of the Glove courtyard, rigidly bracing every step so her knees did not buckle beneath her. Swarms of students wove an ever-changing web around her, throwing glances, exchanging whispers, watching her trip over her own feet and accomplishing their assigned job for them. The glossy stones swam before her fixed stare.

With her homework and paper run combined, she had missed an entire night of sleep and her body was taking its revenge.