Kian

IT IS AWKWARD. Standing next to Kian while my parents and I knead pizza dough is plainly awkward.

He’s been polite all night, answering my parents’ questions, listening attentively.

Kian Hicks, the bakery boy, the one with a lip ring, the one who is always seen smiling, is standing in my kitchen, talking to my parents as if they are old friends. The vibe around them isn't harsh or tense. Only awkward. And I'm okay with that.

While Kian’s talking to my parents, I begin to sprinkle flour on the dough. While listening, I take a few notes about Kian.

1. Kian Hicks is from Andale, the town over (30 minutes away).
2. He’s Jonathan and Giovanni’s first cousin.
3. He’s is the only child.
4. He’s currently in his 3rd year of college at USF.
5. He’s a Communications major. He doesn't know what he wants to be just yet but he knows he wants to get into marketing and advertising.
6. He loves to bike (hence why I see him almost always on a bike).
7. His all-time favorite shows are Twin Peaks and Bob’s Burgers (not gonna lie, both are good ass shows so I don't blame him).
8. He’s a straight up foodie.
9. He said he was once in a doughnut eating contest at school and won a bookstore gift card.
10. He said he did it for the free food.

“I like that you all make your pizzas from scratch,” Kian comments as soon as we put the pizzas into the oven.

My dad, Kian, and I are standing around the island in the kitchen, cleaning up the mess. Kian has flour on his forehead and near his ears and a part of me is tempted to wipe it off.

But that would be weird. Awkward too.

“We normally do,” Dad says. “It’s sorta our little tradition. Beth and Cole eat nothing but homemade pizza.”

They both look in my direction. I wonder if it obvious that I am turning red.

After the pizzas are done baking, we all gather in the dining room and begin eating.

Colton has his typical cheese pizza; mom and dad have their own supreme pizza with a twist (they added spicy peppers); I have a sausage and spinach pizza; and Kian has a BBQ chicken and bacon pizza. We all pair the pizzas with some lemonade and no, Kian didn't make it.

“Where have you been staying, Kian?” Mom asks while taking another bite of her pizza. She looks at him and continues, “At Adalyn’s?”

“Yes,” he nods, putting down his slice of pizza. “It's temporary; I'm helping out at the bakery for only the summer. Just until school starts again and I'll be out of her hair,” he explains.

“It seems you're helping a lot, Kian,” Mom says, “I've heard some talk about you around town but I never quite put the name to the face until now,” she chuckles. “With a small town like ours, word gets around fast. Especially when it comes to a young guy like yourself.”

Kian bobs his head, raising an eyebrow. “Word does get around fast. Is that normal?”

“In Beasley? Oh, yeah. For sure. Without a doubt,” Dad chuckles, “We can't escape it.”

“It's very different from my hometown for sure,” Kian says, sipping on his water. “We recognize each other’s faces but that’s it. We don't really indulge in the nitty-gritty of our neighborhood lives. But here,” he smiles, “it’s different. And I like it because everyone actually stops what they're doing and try to have a conversation. It’s, like, you're getting into the perspectives of a friend in a whole new way.”

I'm peering at Kian with pizza crust halfway into my mouth, slightly parted–I’m surprised with his words.

Beasley is full of curious minds. Some might say it's annoying (hence, why locals tend to go to college outside of town) and some might say they need a change of scenery because everyone is predictable by time. But with that thought, Kian’s words surprise me.

“I’m still getting used to it,” he admits, biting the last of his crust. He adds, “But it's nice.”

We remain quiet, chewing on our slices. After finishing up three full pizzas, we all slouch in our chairs.

“Who wants dessert?” Mom beams, standing up. She heads to the kitchen, grabbing an ice cream scooper.

I look down at my stomach, ready to reject the sweets. But then again, there’s always room for dessert.

From the edge of the table, she grabs a tub of ice cream and shows off a wide smile. “I hope you like green tea flavored ice cream, Kian.”

“Oh, I do, thank you,” he says as my mom places a scoop of ice cream into a bowl. He hums, putting a spoon full of ice cream slowly into his mouth. Kian’s cheeks are lifted into a small smile before he announces that he enjoyed it.

He offers to do the dishes but my dad insists that he shouldn't. Kian insists that he should. This goes on for two minutes.

Kian ends up winning and starts cleaning up. Dad offers to help but mom asks me to help instead. While piling up the dishes near the sink, everyone shuffles out of the kitchen and into the living room.

I'm putting on gloves when Kian lightly brushes my shoulders. He's standing next to me, rolling up his sleeves.

“Was it your first time making pizza from scratch?” I ask while placing the dishes in the sink. I'm adding soap to the pile of dishes when he lets out a small breath.

I look over at Kian and he's nodding, licking his lips. “Yeah, I normally order or buy the frozen ones at the market. It was cool.”

I stop the water from running and begin to scrub a plate.

I bit down on my bottom lip, “Sorry about my parents,” I start. “They can be a little nosy sometimes.”

He chuckles. “I figure that the entire town is a bit nosy. But it’s cool. I guess you can say I'm a little bit nosy too hence why I...”

He trails off, not finishing his sentence. His silence causes me to stop moving.

“You…what?” I whisper, turning my head to see his face looking all smug.

He ignores my question and laughs. Instead, he asks, “What do your parents do, Bethany?”

“My mom’s a pilot and dad’s a flight attendant,” I answer, pulling up my sleeves. I begin rinsing the dishes. “It's nice having dinner with the four of us. With their shifts, it's hard, y'know?”

Kian’s breathing is even. He's looking straight at the dishes and he is quiet.

I nudge his shoulder lightly before insisting, “You didn't finish your question.”

He lets out a small laugh, glancing at me shortly after he hears me sigh. “What question?”

He’s loosening the grip of the plate in his hand, slowly rinsing his fingers. Now, he turns his body, facing me entirely. Kian’s looking down at me, batting his eyelashes slowly. With the corners of his eyes crinkling and a half-smile forming on his lips, he starts to bury his (wet) hand into my hair.

He tightens the grip around my neck and softly says, “Bethany.”

The way he hums my name makes me gasp.

“I might do something I’ll regret,” Kian lets out a fruity laugh and says, “I mean, it might be something worth doing.”

I hear him chuckle again which causes my knees to wobble. I feel my hands fall on the small of his chest as I lean a little closer to Kian.

The last I see of him are his eyes trailing my face. As I close my eyes, I feel his breath hover from my nose and towards my eyelids, like he is trying to figure something out. He rests his hands on the sides of my face and stops. He gently presses his forehead against my forehead and starts to breathe a little faster.

Before leaning closer to him, his hands let go of my face the moment we hear the sound of footsteps near us. He looks away from me and straight towards the frame of the kitchen door.

“Is there any ice cream left?” Colton softly asks, causing us to break apart.

Kian helps Colton get more ice cream. He continues to rinse the dishes, standing quietly.

I think about what happened a minute ago. My eyes are locked on the back of Kian’s head. He doesn't turn around.

The rest of the night is quiet between the two of us.

I remember the way he hovered his lip ring over the corner of my lips. I remember the way his lips danced just inches from mine. I remember the way Kian almost had a little taste of my lips—and I know that itself will be a memory stuck in my head for who knows how long.