“So they can walk there safely. And up the hill, even.”
“Seems that way.”
I nod, then lower my head, relieved to learn that, at the very least, the sun doesn’t kill instantaneously. Thunder rumbles, and a gust of wind makes the raindrops beat harder; it makes the glass walls creak around us. The mounds of rock to the north remain impervious.
Since he says nothing more, I use the lull to think over our conversation. I can’t imagine why he doesn’t like himself, and I can’t imagine why his mother doesn’t, either. His only remaining parent. I feel something hard against my chest whenever I think about this particular point. Maybe I never realized a Preme could experience misery. But he can, and a Preme he is.
“Wren.” My voice is firm. “How come we’re hanging out right now. How come you were in the cafeteria yesterday. How come you fed the Denominators. The shooting range. The nurse’s station.”
“Why do you think?”
I turn my head so that I am looking at him. He doesn’t look at me, though, and so my eyes wander freely over the muscles bulging under his skin, at the broad chest that rises and falls under his T-shirt. “I don’t know,” I finally say. “Guilt?”
His eyebrows crinkle. “Guilt? For what? Beating you up?”
I nod.
“The nurse’s station, maybe. But since then, no. Not guilt. I don’t feel guilty for that, not now. It was just another fight for you—I get it.”
“So then why?”
Now he does turn his head, and his eyes latch onto mine. “I like hanging out with you.” He says it so simply, like when he identified the raindrops outside.
But it is anything but simple. He likes hanging out with me. Does he mean as friends? Surely he doesn’t mean as something more. No, surely not. Obviously not.
My gaze has cast away, but he is still watching me. I look at him and open my mouth. “Your eyes look like the sun.”
He laughs, lighter than before. Genuine. “That’s a strange thing to say. Everything about you is strange. My eyes look like the sun,” he repeats as he stares at the sky. “You know, if anyone bears a resemblance to the sun, it’s you.”
“Me?”
“A dangerous, intense, burning ball of fire? Yeah, that sounds like you.”
It’s my turn to laugh, and I do.
“Or maybe you’re more like a thunderstorm. Frightening and beautiful at the same time.”
The laugh dies in my throat. He just called me beautiful, and now my heart beats so fast it feels like it has legs and they are pumping as hard as they can, an all-out sprint to the finish. But there is no finish line, and I don’t know why it is running in the first place.
“Eve, do you know what a normal person would say when someone says they like hanging out with you?”
I shake my head. I don’t trust my voice right now.
“They’d say they like hanging out with that person, too.” He props himself up on his elbow and looks at me. He seems closer now than he did before, and it does nothing to slow my heart.
Get a grip, Eve.
But then my eyes meet his, and I see the sun and feel like I am breathing in fresh air. I can feel his warmth against my skin, and I am reminded that getting a grip is not really an option right now.
He wants me to say something, but I can’t. So I nod, and I know it is meaningless and childish, but all I can do is stare into his eyes and keep nodding.
His free hand reaches over, and his fingers glide over my hair. “I take it that’s a yes, you do like hanging out?”
Somehow I find my voice. “Yes.” Because it’s true. Never once have I wanted it to be true, but all along it has been.
Still he doesn’t move his hand away. I hope he can’t hear my heart thudding. His thumb grazes my temple, and my skin feels electrified where he touches it, and as his hand moves I can smell his smell. It is the same as that day we fed the Noms, when he hid me from the guard. Clean and masculine and safe.
“Come closer,” my mouth says. I hear the words like they are spoken from someone else, like they come from a great distance. Surely it wasn’t me who said them.
His hand freezes. “I can do that,” he says slowly, and then he slides himself over so that his long body is pressed against the side of mine.
It isn’t just where his fingers touch me that feels electrified. It’s all over. Somewhere, my brain screams that he is a Preme, an impossibly strong one—one who is capable of hurting me. But he won’t hurt me; I know that.
He looks like he is studying me.
“What?” I ask.
“I want to kiss you,” he says. “But…”
“But?”
One corner of his mouth pulls up. “But you’re unpredictable. And I know how hard you can punch.”
I grin, and my hands reach up; they coil around his head, and his hair feels smooth in my fingers. I pull him to me so that the pillow of air separating us disappears, and suddenly his lips are on mine, and they are impossibly soft, impossibly warm. How can they be so soft and warm when he is anything but?
His hand grips my head as he kisses me, his smell is inside of me, and I kiss him back. I have never kissed anyone before and so I don’t know how fast or slow to go, but he seems to linger on my lips with every motion and so I match his tempo even though my heart beats against my chest so fast I think I might die.
And suddenly I realize, it’s worth the risk.
When he pulls away, my eyes flutter open, and I realize for the first time they were closed. “Wow,” I mutter before I can stop myself. “You’re a really good kisser.”
My head starts shaking as soon as the words are out of my mouth. I cover my face. “I don’t know why I just said that. Remember I don’t have anything to compare it to, so maybe you aren’t that good after all.”
“If it makes you feel any better,” he says in his low voice, “you’re a really good kisser, too.” When I uncover my face, I see that he is grinning, and my shoulders relax. He lies down beside me and twists his fingers between mine. The raindrops are lighter now, and they sound like music. Sun bursts from behind the last of the thunderclouds that roll by, and he squeezes my hand, and I squeeze his, too.
Chapter Eighteen
“Are we going to talk about it, or are you just going to look at your books like a super big weirdo?”
I glance up from a glossy photo of a city street bunched tight with bodies. “Check this out,” I say, and I turn the book so Maggie can see. “Protests, outside, from before the world moved down here. I wonder if people were killed in them like now.”
“You realize you’re completely obsessed, right?” Emerald interrupts as she pushes back from the table. “Like, seriously. I love you like a sister, Eve, but I’ve got to call it. This place is just as boring now as when Mr. Frasier dragged us here in sixth grade.”
I kick her leg under the table. “It isn’t boring; you could learn a thing or two up here. Besides, you guys said we could do whatever I wanted this afternoon, remember? No job tours scheduled, no fights scheduled, nothing. And I picked this. Welcome to the library.” I stick my tongue out at her.
“Excuse me,” Maggie says sternly, “but I asked you a question.” She crosses her arms, but there is a smile hidden beneath her frown. “And for the record, it was a trick question. Of course we’re going to talk about it. What the hell is going on with you and the Preme?”
“Yeah, Eve, come on. I thought that dude was the devil after your fight. You said yourself he was horrible. But you guys looked like old pals in the cafeteria. Not to mention him getting up in Daniel’s face on your behalf. What was that all about?”
I have managed to evade any and all questions from my friends on the subject, until now. They do not know about Wren and me kissing in the Oracle, and it’s not something I plan to share with them. I don’t want to keep any
more secrets from them—I really don’t. But as often as I go over what happened with him in my mind, I can’t make sense of it.
And I can’t tell them anything until I figure it out myself.
“We aren’t old pals. We just… I don’t know. We’ve hung out a bit. Hardly at all. But a bit. I guess we’re sort of becoming friends.”
They both stare at me like I have grown a second head.
“Okay, wait. Wait, wait, wait. A thousand different questions are shooting through my brain right now, and I don’t know which one to start with. Define ‘a bit.’”
“Yeah, and go piecemeal,” Emerald adds. “Don’t gloss over everything like you always do.”
“Okay,” I say slowly. “Well, first he taught me how to fire a gun at the Preme shooting range.”
“What? You can shoot a gun?” Emerald cries.
“Wow,” says Maggie, and she leans onto her elbows. “Was it romantic? Did he wrap his arms around you when he showed you how to fire?”
I stare at her, then laugh loudly. “Of course it wasn’t romantic,” I whisper after the librarian gives me a warning look. “And yeah,” I add to Emerald, “I can shoot a gun.”
Maggie’s eyes narrow. “Then what happened?”
“He helped me work the Noms’ food line. And that’s it. That’s the extent of us hanging out.” I shrug again. “As I said—a bit.”
She tucks a foot under herself. “He went to the feeding dock with you?”
“Yeah.”
“But, why?”
I shake my head. “I have no idea. He wanted to see it.”
“This is all very strange, girl.”
“Not really,” Maggie says quickly. Her large green eyes shift to mine, and she grins.
“What,” I say.
“Isn’t it obvious? He’s into you. Why else would he do all that? Why else would he come to the Mean cafeteria and then force Daniel off you before you could even blink?”
I don’t want to lie, but I also don’t know the truth. “I’m really not sure, but I don’t think it’s because he’s into me,” I say finally. My voice is firm, even though on the inside I am less certain. Because surely that kiss meant something… “I think at first he felt guilty for beating me so badly in the Bowl. And now we’re kind of friends, just like I said. It’s no big deal. Look, Hunter and I are friends, and you don’t think there’s anything strange about that.”
“That’s a little different—you guys have been friends forever. And he hails from Floor Two.”
“Speaking of,” interrupts Emerald, “why’s he so cranky right now? Erick and I had a math question for him about punching angles, and he completely blew us off. Normally he’d give out his allotments to have an audience for a physics lesson.”
I sigh, then turn the page of the book sitting in front of me. A large hill looks like its top blew off, gushing red into a black sky. Volcano erupting, says the caption. I have never seen the word before, and I roll it around my tongue before answering. “I don’t know. Because he was mad at me for shooting my mouth off, so I told him to go easy on me, since I was still getting over the fight with Wren.”
“Meanwhile you were becoming friends with him.”
I nod. “It was a small lie, but you can see his point.”
Maggie frowns. “Well, I don’t think he’s super thrilled about how things ended with Anita, so that isn’t helping. Give him a couple of days. He’ll get over it.”
“Nice volcano picture,” says a voice over my head.
I snap the book shut, and my spine straightens. My heart hammers in my chest like it is several times too big and will soon break free of its rib-made cage.
“Did I scare you?” Wren asks.
“Of course not.”
“Silly question, huh, Eve? Mind if we join you?”
I notice for the first time that two guys who look to be Wren’s age stand behind him. “Yes, I mean, no. I don’t mind.” Maggie and Emerald are watching me closely, and I feel like the word liar is tattooed across my forehead. I feel like our kiss in the Oracle is playing out for all to see a foot above me. I clear my throat and try to act nonchalant. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Yeah,” he says, and he glances at me as he sits. “I know.”
“I mean…what I mean is…”
He presses his mouth together and squints with his fist posed under his chin. I laugh before I can stop myself.
“I saw you from the hall, so I thought I’d say hello. These are my friends, Connor and Long. This is Eve. And these are her friends, Maggie and Emerald.” I nod at Connor, who looks nothing like Wren. He isn’t very tall, and not half as muscular. He adjusts his glasses the way Hunter sometimes does before saying hello. His eyes dart to Maggie, then to his feet.
Long, meanwhile, is striking-looking, with jet-black hair that hangs over forest green eyes. They shine. “I don’t know about you, Eve. I mean, I saw the fight, and I kind of thought you’d fare a bit better than you did against this loser.” He pinches Wren under the arm, and Wren punches him.
“Shut up, Long.”
“You and I could fight,” I suggest, “because considering the size of your arms, I could take you in under a minute. Ever heard of push-ups?”
“Damn!” He laughs, earning himself a disapproving glance from the librarian. “You didn’t tell me she had so much attitude,” he says to Wren as he sits next to him. “You know, when you’ve been going on and on and on and on about her.”
He winks at me, and then Wren elbows him and says something under his breath that makes Long laugh harder. I can’t help but smile, too; apparently Wren has been talking about me. Except that Maggie is staring at me with a look on her face that looks remarkably like triumph.
I force mine to straighten.
“How’s the job search going?” Connor asks Maggie as he sits next to her on the other side of the table. He is careful to leave a body space between them, but I don’t think he does it out of disgust for her station. In fact, it seems like it has more to do with respect than anything else.
“Terrible,” she laments. “I’ve been on a thousand job tours, and I can’t make up my mind. Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who knows exactly what they want to do.”
He smiles. “Sorry. I’m a computer guy, always have been.”
She groans.
As our friends chat, seemingly impervious to the differences that separate us, Wren leans toward me. He lowers his voice so the others can’t hear. “Any plans tonight?”
I shove my palm over my mouth to stop it from smiling. “What are you thinking?”
“Have you been to the Oracle at night?”
“At night?”
“Yeah.”
I shake my head. The compound isn’t well lit at night. The Oracle wouldn’t be, either.
“Neither have I. But apparently the sky is full of these things called stars. Ever heard of them?”
“I’ve seen them in pictures,” I whisper.
“So. Are you interested?”
I am still. The thought of seeing what the world aboveground looks like at night fills me with excitement. Seeing it with Wren, even more so. “It’ll be dark, though, right?” The words slip between my teeth before I can stop them.
His hazel eyes narrow. Eyes that match his hair. “Yes,” he says slowly. “Is that a problem?”
I shake my head again.
“Come on. Don’t tell me…”
“What?”
A grin breaks across his face. Then he laughs. He makes sure the others aren’t paying us any attention before he speaks the dreaded words: “You’re afraid of the dark.”
“No, I’m not,” I say quickly. Too quickly. My spine is blade straight, and I try to relax it, but it’s welded in place.
Now there’s no choice but to go
—my ridiculous pride. “So, tonight, then. Yeah, I’m in. What time?”
“Ten. Meet in front of here.”
I blink slowly, deliberately.
“We don’t have to,” he says eventually. He is staring at me, and I know I am being rude. I should be excited. He is asking me on a date, and it sounds perfect. The Oracle at night. With him. Of course I want to go.
My eyes dart to Maggie and Emerald; they are deep in conversation with Connor and Long. I look at Wren and see his face is stern. I sigh. “Okay, listen. You might not be completely wrong.”
He leans forward a couple of inches. “The dark?”
I shrug. It is so weak, so weak, so weak. When I look at him again, I see he is laughing. “Sorry, Eve. Really, I don’t mean to laugh. But of all things…and you…come on, it’s funny.”
“It isn’t funny, it’s…” I lower my voice. “It’s humiliating.”
“I kind of like it.” He shrugs. “Now I know you’re at least partly human.”
“Hey, that’s not fair.”
He grabs my hand under the table, and the warmth of his skin on mine spreads inside of me. It is weird, this feeling he gives me. It isn’t something I can quite understand.
But I do understand that I don’t want the others to see, and so I glance quickly around the table as I blush.
“Hiding something, Eve?” His face is stern again.
“Actually,” I say evenly, “yes, I am.” I look pointedly at him, and his eyes narrow. Then he squeezes my hand and lets it go. Except I hold on tightly and our hands stay entwined, hidden from the others’ view but together nonetheless.
The corners of his mouth twitch. “So tonight. I can meet you down on your floor, if you’d like.”
“I don’t need an escort, thanks.”
“How did I know that’d be your response?”
Long catches Wren across the shoulder. “We’re going to be late, man.”
Wren looks at me, then slips his hand free. “I’ve got to run. I’ll be seeing you.”
Escaping Eleven (Eleven Trilogy) Page 14
