by Sarah Noffke
He blinks up at me. And I don’t need any more reason to hold myself back, but still I do. I lean in close to him, and I wait. I feel his breath, but I wait. Just watch him watching me. He doesn’t pull me to him, but instead seems to understand I’m enjoying being at the edge of this moment. The moment before we kiss. When I bring my lips an inch from his a shudder actually escapes my chest. He almost smiles. Right now, under these circumstances, I feel I’m trained on his every movement with incredible intuition. And when I finally close the distance he breathes me in with a rough purr. Kisses me back like in the seconds I feigned a standoff, he starved. Strong calloused hands grip my back and pull me in closer to him. He kisses me with an unmatched intensity, one that unlocks a flood of warmth inside me, erasing any remaining pain. My hands slide around his firm jaw, down his neck, and follow to his chest. He catches them before they complete their path. Holds my hands in his, imprisons them there. He’s no longer kissing me, but his lips are only an eyelash distance away. Finally between a series of shallow breaths he says, “I’m going to regret saying this, but we need to pack up camp.”
I nod. Slide my head over and rest it on his shoulder and wait for my breaths to steady. “Yeah, you’re right,” I say.
I roll off him, but as soon as I’m at his side I scoot back closer and tuck my body under the arm he drapes around me. He knows we need to get up as well as I do, but doesn’t seem too intent on it either. Maybe like me, he’s worried about what lies ahead of us tonight and just wants to enjoy this moment. Maybe he’s just indulging me since I announced my undying love for him. I don’t really care why he’s still holding me when we have other things to do, I’m enjoying the aspects of this moment. The sun setting. The warm, but crisp summer air. The warm hand clapped on my thigh. The guy who holds me like I’m the greatest prize. After spending years being a Defect, it feels amazing to finally win in this way.
And suddenly, something occurs to me. I turn around abruptly and sit back on my knees. Rogue doesn’t seem caught off guard by my sudden change in position.
“Zack said you really have always had a crush on me,” I say, looking at him with my best determined look.
He doesn’t blink at my abruptness. He simply shakes his head. “Not a crush. Love. I’ve always loved you,” he says.
I blush and stare at a spot on his chest, suddenly unable to bring my eyes to meet his.
“You didn’t believe me before, did you?” Rogue asks.
“I did. I was just surprised that I never knew it. I mean, we were so young,” I say.
“Maybe that’s why then. But I think it’s because of something else. I think because you’re so self-sufficient you don’t see what you can have until you need it.”
I shake my head at him.
“And Em,” he says, like he’s not paying attention to my head shake, “you need me now and here I am. And you finally see my love.”
It’s my turn to stop and regard him quietly. A thousand urges are reaching from different places inside me right at this moment. I shake them off and maintain my stoic silence.
“You know,” he says, with a slanted smile, “it’s a beautiful thing that you finally need me, because I’ve been dying to be needed by you.”
I sit frozen for a long few seconds. Apparently too long because Rogue pushes up. Once he’s standing he extends his hand to me. I was already in the process of standing on my own but because I sense he wants to help me, I take his hand.
When we’re both standing, he angles his head back down at my iPod sitting by the rock. “So your music, indie folk, it’s compelling. A bit slow, but I still enjoyed the poetry.”
I forgot he’d been borrowing my music. “You still listen to alternative?” I ask, finding our standing position a little awkward suddenly.
“I don’t listen to anything. Living off the grid means no electricity. I’ve got a well and all but no TV or lights. That gonna be all right with you?”
“I don’t care for TV, but that may be because the approved channels are all lame. You wouldn’t believe what I had to do to get this music approved,” I say, holding up the iPod.
“I’m guessing you were damn persistent.”
“Well, if you need electricity then I might be able to help you,” I say, holding up a hand and tapping him in the chest.
“Be careful where you point that thing.”
I smirk. “Thanks to you I know how to control it.”
“Well, now you got me thinking. If I let you leech me then that energy can be converted to power a water heater or furnace.”
“Sounds like we get to experiment.”
“Oh, I live for home improvement projects. And now I get to use my beloved as an energy source. It just keeps getting better.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
It’s mostly my fault that it’s dark while we try to pack up camp. We both scamper around trying to find lost objects. Rogue stumbles several times over the supplies I’ve absentmindedly left out or dropped.
“Sorry,” I say, when I back into him as he’s rolling up the tent. It’s like knocking into a brick wall.
In the moonlight I make out a soft smile on his face. “Not your fault.”
“That’s a lie,” I say, kneeling down to help him fold the tent into a neat square.
“I should just throw on the lantern and make our lives easier.”
“No, let’s not risk it,” I say. “We’re almost done. I’ll stay out of your way with my clumsy feet.”
He holds out his empty hand and a second later the bag for the tent appears there. With a wink he says, “I probably can do the clean-up a little easier on my own. Why don’t you pack your duffel bag since it’s the only thing we’re taking with us?”
“What are we doing with the rest of the supplies?”
“Hiding them in that oak tree,” he says, nodding to one in the distance. “We’ll need them on our return trip.”
The idea of returning simultaneously fills me with trepidation and excitement. I long to see Nona, to hear what Zack has learned, and to instigate a change. But there’s too much risk connected to each of those desires and I fear that my own thirst for vengeance will hurt people I love if I’m not careful. Just by getting myself caught I’d hurt those who care about me. And if I don’t get caught, but fail to strategize properly, then I’ll lose the advantage I have over President Vider right now. He doesn’t know what I know, what I can do, and that we’re organizing something with a potential to pull him out of office. And I know what my shortcoming is. I know what can be my undoing in all of this. My father. The blinding anger I have for him fills my head with erratic thoughts. Makes me impulsive. I fear that my desire for revenge against him will send me into an action that endangers everyone I love. I fear I’ll ruin our chances at justice just because I want to see my father suffer so badly. Revenge isn’t a healthy emotion. I know that. And right now it’s my fuel, but I fear it will burn too hot.
Somehow there are more things I need to stuff into my duffel bag than I have room for. The hike out of the Valley will only take a couple of hours, but still I think we should bring provisions for a day or so, just in case. I look up to catch the silhouette of Rogue carrying the tent on one shoulder and a bag of supplies on the other, managing them easily. Then his form buckles. Falls to the ground. Everything in his grasp tumbling to the ground.
The blankets! I left the stupid blankets out beside the tent and now Rogue has tripped on them. “I’m sorry,” I say, rushing to help and then freeze. The moonlight rains down on Rogue, giving me a glimpse that tells a different story than the one I concocted in my head. He’s dropped down on one bent knee. His head lies in his hands. The tent and supplies in front of him. The blankets a safe distance away. For a full ten seconds he’s quiet, gripping his hair in his fingers, unmoving.
“Rogue?” I take a few cautious steps in his direction.
He shakes his head, discouraging me from approaching, but I ignore him and kneel down a few inches awa
y. Tattered breaths wheeze in and out of his mouth. They’re loud in the quiet forest air, but I know Rogue is using everything he has to suppress them. And then a groan escapes his mouth and it rips the caution I’d harbored away. I rush forward and catch his head in my hands just as he tumbles sideways. His form is huddled into a ball, one so large that the force of his head landing in my lap almost knocks me flat. I recover quickly and wrap my body around his head, cradling it.
Rogue’s head is against my abdomen and the rest of him lies in front of me. I hug him to me. He doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t push me away, as I expected. He cringes, but it’s from the pain. His face turns white and his hands stay clamped on either side of his head. I push his hair away from his face and hands. I lean down and into his ear I recite the only thing I know to say in this moment. “It’s all right, Rogue. I love you.” Over and over and over again I say these words to him. And he allows muffled screeches of pain from his mouth, sometimes loudly, but thankfully mostly softly. The pain in him somehow leaks into me and crushes parts of me in torturing ways. Rarely before have I had the misfortune to stand by and watch someone I love convulse with pain. I’m powerless to help him, yet witnessing his pain is compulsory.
After a few minutes his complaints turn to indecipherable mumbles. I allow him to squirm in my lap, holding him as still as I think will keep him calm. I slide down so I’m lying next to him and hold his head into my chest. I think his consciousness has gone, but then he reaches around my waist and wrenches me into him with a desperation that makes me actually smile awkwardly. “Rogue, it’s all right. I love you.”
And when he nods, I stiffen. He slides his face up until he’s looking straight into my eyes. His face is strained, but there’s an almost smile on it. “Rogue?” I say, wondering if he’s gone completely mad. “Are you all right?”
Too fast he rocks back into a sitting position. I follow suit, although without the same grace. Rogue looks at me like I’m a ghost or something else that’s real and also not. He’s kind of smiling, but also shaking his head like he’s mystified.
“What?” I say, feeling wrong for touching him while he was plagued by that headache, afraid he’s about to punish me for it.
“That’s the shortest headache I’ve ever had.” He shakes his head, his chaotic hair falling in his face. He slides it back into place, each of his movements careful like he’s afraid of his own body. “Somehow, you”—he points his gaze at me— “lessened my pain. You made it end prematurely.”
I shake my head. “I’m sure it’s just a coincidence that I was here.”
“I’ve been getting those headaches for four years. They usually take me out for a full hour, but that one lasted less than ten minutes. That’s a first. Explain that, Em,” he says, leaning forward, close.
I attempt a smile that feels more like a stretched determined expression. “I-I-I—”
“You make me better,” he says, interrupting me. His laughter fills the air and almost rips the mask off my face. Then he pushes forward, encouraging me back until I’m lying flat. Rogue hovers just above me, a hungry look in his eyes. “Thank you, Em.” He leans in and kisses me. I expected it to be full of the animalistic emotion he seems to be harboring, but it’s soft and thoughtful. When he pulls away I smile at him, but again it doesn’t feel genuine.
“I’m glad it didn’t last long,” I say, feeling strange lying in the leaves with him over me in the dark.
“What you’re not saying is that it was you,” Rogue says, pushing up, and too quickly he’s standing and pulling me up with him. “But it was you. Somehow you make me better.”
“What? You’re saying it’s another gift of mine.”
He shakes his head. “Sometimes the best thing about us isn’t what we’re gifted with, but what we can make others feel just by our very nature of existing.”
“I’m not sure if I know what that means.”
He rubs the side of his head. “Nor I, but right now I’m grateful you exist in my world.” He grabs my hand and tugs me into him, wrapping me in his arms.
I smile and into his ear I say, “We’re still going to the labs.”
“Of course we are,” he says with more strength than a man should have who’s been through what he has just now. “I was just making a notable remark.”
“You’re really okay?” I say, stroking the hair off his forehead beaded with sweat.
“I’m better than I’ve ever been thanks to you.” He kisses me once upon the lips. I go in for another but he pushes away. “We’ve got something we’ve got to do.”
***
“We have to camouflage ourselves?” I ask in surprise.
“You already know what my father’s gift is. You should know why we have to do this.”
That makes sense now. I nod as Rogue traces a leaf sprayed in skunk juice down my arm. It makes my nose burn. Makes my stomach turn. And still I’m forced to smell it. “So that will cover our scents?”
“It confuses him, which hopefully will be enough.”
“Where did you get that?” I ask, directing my attention to the instrument he’s using to make me smell repulsive.
He angles his head down at me. “I have my sources.”
“Gross.”
“If you think this is bad, you get to detail me in skunk grossness next.”
“Can’t wait,” I say.
“Well, no need. I’m all done.”
He hands me another leaf, this one fresh with the scent of awfulness. “Seriously, where did you find this and how?”
“Call it a part of my gift,” he says with a smile.
“I’m calling bullshit, but it still smells like skunk,” I say, rubbing the leaf over his chest. “And it seems like you should be able to wipe yourself down without my help.”
He claps a hand over mine, stopping me. “Oh, well if you don’t want to do it then I will. I just thought…” He gives me an incredibly perfect pouty face.
“Oh, stop it.” I pull my hand from his and run the putrid leaf up around his shoulders. “It’s just you finally give me the opportunity to wipe you down and ask me to do it with skunk junk. Thanks.”
“Next time will be better,” he says, a heated look in his eyes.
“If you make me sponge bathe you with a dead fish then I’m going to call out your sick fetish.”
He grips my elbow and pulls me into him. “I only have one obsession and I’m looking at her right now.”
And even with the smell of skunk radiating off both our bodies I shiver from his words, have to hold myself back. My eyes shift back and forth between his and I ease my arm from his hand, sliding the leaf down his chest and around to his back. Anything I say won’t sound right. It will be too playful or too corny or too serious. Everything I want to say contradicts what we’re about to do, so I pretend I don’t feel anything and he hasn’t said something that makes me want to forget we’re facing mortal danger. I slide the leaf around his shoulder blade and down the length of his back.
“To the right,” Rogue says. “I’ve got an awful itch there.”
“Get a back scratcher,” I say, moving to his lower back. “I’ve got a job to do.”
“Just don’t see why you can’t kill two birds,” he says.
“Here, how does that feel?” I say, indulging him.
“Like you need to put your fingernails into it.”
I laugh. “You’re insufferable.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“No, I mean the opposite of that, but right now you’re making me coat your body in skunk, so that’s how I feel.”
“I see you’re an ‘in the moment’ kinda girl.”
I swipe the leaf down the back of his leg and throw it on the ground. “Done.”
He turns and sniffs, grimaces and smiles. “Good job. Oh, and Em, I have something important I need you to do,” Rogue says, garnering my attention. “This one is going to be mighty difficult for you, but I need you not to speak when we’re at the labs. We n
eed to use hand gestures as much as possible.”
“Why would not speaking be difficult for me?” I say.
He presses his mouth together and looks down at the ground as if he hasn’t heard me.
“Oh, shush it,” I say with a smile. “I know how to be quiet.”
“You’re not even quiet when you sleep,” he says, grabbing my hand and pulling me forward.
Chapter Thirty-Four
I stash my duffel bag beside a tree that we’ll have to pass on our journey back from the labs. It’s not hidden, but we shouldn’t be gone long enough that anyone will stumble across it at this late hour. I want to be able to pick it up and sling it across my chest without stopping so I decide against burying it in brush.
Moving beside Rogue at a steady jog, I’m accosted by something that isn’t quite clear to me. It has to do with his pace. We’re running on the path, not concerned with passing anyone here since curfew started hours ago. The path will take us to the main plaza and from there the lab is only a half a mile. But moving beside Rogue seems strange. His movements make me doubt my own because he runs differently, like he’s not running at all. It almost seems as if he’s walking beside me and the faster I move the more he appears to be hardly moving to keep up with me.
Once we’re to the plaza I’m sucking in breaths, willing them to steady my racing heart. But Rogue doesn’t look as though he’s even broken a sweat. He tugs my hand and pulls me into a shadow. Now that we’re out of the park, we need to stay in the dark, sprinting when in the light. Knowing he’ll catch up with me easily I move off first, and instantly feel him at my back. The way he moves behind me is encouraging, makes me want to move faster just so I keep pace with him. This inspiration somehow delivers us to the lab quicker than I thought we’d be there.
The building, which looks like an ordinary storefront, is dark up front, but its back end is lit with security lights. This is where we’ll enter and also where it looks more like a warehouse that contains something huge and not as innocent as its meek front would suggest.
