Skylar’s eyes blinked open while the world outside was still painted inky black. She took her cell phone out from where she’d slept with it under her pillow. Today was Friday, and that meant school. The time on her screen, above a beaming picture of her and her best friend in their matching cheer uniforms and pom-poms, displayed o4:45, and that left her two and a half hours to make it to school on time.

She lay listening to the early-morning traffic already congesting the streets, her hands tucked under the cool side of her pillow. Skylar hated the morning after. She hated leaving this messy, too-small apartment in a questionable corner of the east side Heights, but most of all, she hated leaving him. So many times she’d wanted to tell him that. To just let it all out so she could finally take a full, satisfying breath and release the burning pressure from her chest.

But Skylar hadn’t told him, and she knew she never would. Their arrangement was unconventional, even to her, who was the other party involved in it. Before him, she’d wondered how she would survive. She’d thought about raiding the medicine cabinet in her parents’ bathroom and tipping back the magical potion contained inside the plastic white bottles her mom liked to stockpile. The day she’d been brave enough to cross the line she’d been toeing, all she ended up with were heart palpitations, wavering vision, and sweaty palms. She either hadn’t taken the right amount, or the pills weren’t strong enough. Whatever the reason, for better or for worse, she was still here.

Skylar had no intentions of telling anyone what she’d been stupid enough to do, partly out of embarrassment she couldn’t even do that right. If anyone found out, she’d be called a drama queen. She did it for attention because she’s shameless. And maybe she was. Maybe she knew the pills would do jack all and she just needed someone to sit up and take notice of her. Hear her cries for help and actually respond to them.

But Skylar knew that wasn’t true, either. In an ideal world, she’d blend so far into the background she’d become part of the scenery.

But he’d noticed her. He paid her less attention than you would a house spider, but she had no doubt he would cut off his own fingers before ever laying one on her. So she’d kept coming back here, and he’d continued to make space in his bed.

Skylar rolled over, taking the bunched sheet clutched to her chest with her. Watery moonlight bathed Kylan’s skin, contouring the lines of defined muscle from his shoulders to his back. Even in sleep he didn’t look relaxed. His age was a mystery to her, but he couldn’t be much older than her sixteen years and ten months. The streets had hardened him, though.

What else has he been through? Where are his parents?

Kylan had stepped out of the night, offered his hand and saved Skylar. He’d asked for nothing in return, and Skylar got the feeling her silence was payment enough. Kylan didn't speak so much with words as he did actions, and Sky secretly hung onto every word he gave her.

The morning stretched on, the moody sky brightening to dishwater. When time had completely ran down to nothing, Skylar peeled back the covers, resolute to the fact there would be no heartfelt goodbyes between her and Kylan. She didn’t even believe he was asleep. And she took that as her cue to get dressed and get out of there.

Hauling her gym bag, she crept out of the bedroom and padded across the narrow hallway, locking herself in the bathroom. The clothes Kylan had been wearing last night hung over the side of the tub. Glancing around the four walls, even though she was the only person inside them, Skylar picked up the jacket and pressed the cold material to her nose, inhaling the heady scent of leather, cigar smoke, and something else—something softer and cleaner—that was distinctly Kylan.

A feeling lighter than air rushed through her stomach and fluttered across her chest.

You’ll be back in twenty-four hours, you soppy idiot. Get a grip of yourself.

As Skylar lifted the jacket from under her nose, the faint odor of women’s perfume wafted up her nostrils, and her stomach almost bottomed out. She sniffed the material again, but the notes of waterlily and apple weren’t easy to detect tangled with the cedar foulness of cigars.

Out of nowhere, Skylar’s heart raced, a low ringing in her ears as she fretted over Kylan whiling away a few hours with another girl that wasn’t her. He hadn’t mentioned a girlfriend, but that didn’t mean anything. Unless…

Skylar scrunched her eyes closed and shook her head, dislodging the graphic image of a one-night stand.

Skipping a shower, because the water was always freezing, Skylar was in her sensible school uniform in less than five minutes. The navy blazer was wrinkled from where she’d shoved it in her bag, so she took it back off to air out on the walk to the subway station.

In the living room, Ivan lay sprawled across the couch, one arm slung over his face, covering his eyes. Fully dressed, soft snores left his slightly parted mouth. Skylar tiptoed to the door and released the locks. The same anxiety she always felt when leaving Kylan’s apartment to go back to her day-to-day life seeped into her veins and settled in her heart.

But Skylar pushed on and ignored it, joining the morning rush for the six-twenty-five train that would drop her halfway to hell. The anonymity of the city had been what brought her here that night six months ago. So many nameless, faceless people who were too busy to stop and care what was going on around them or spare a second glance for each other. Skylar understood that the ruthless rush of the city was oftentimes viewed as scary, but she could get lost in the fast-paced hustle and bustle and forget who she ever was and where she came from. Forget that there was a life at the end of those train tracks where a home and family and friends waited for her.

The rattle of metal on metal rumbled and shrieked in the distance, and a frigid gust of wind blew through Skylar’s hair, sucking it into her face. The train pulled into the platform and she was jostled through the barbaric crowd. Packed against other bodies, Skylar made a small space for herself at the pole near the doors and faced the window. Through the smeared, laminated glass, her eyes met the piercing stare of Kylan’s as he stood deep on the platform, his face mask pulled up past his nose and his hood over his head.

Skylar’s sinuses stung as the train started to pull away. At the very last minute, as the platform rolled by, she tore her hand from the pole and pressed her hands against the glass, catching a final glimpse of Kylan’s stormy-jade irises before she was swallowed into the black tunnel.