The Conspiracy of Us

by Maggie Hall

  I pulled my knees to my chest and tucked the dress around me, repositioning everything that had happened at school in my head in light of what he was saying.

  Jack pulled the tie from around his neck and rolled it into a tight spiral. “I was supposed to find out whether you were a family member after all, then bring you in immediately, but I didn’t. I liked it, going to classes, getting to know you. I knew it would stop the second we got back to the Saxons, back to real life, but it was worth it for the short amount of time I was there.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It was completely irresponsible of me, but I was already planning to ask you to the prom, even before Stellan showed up.”

  I couldn’t stop the smile that came over my face.

  “And then through all of this, you’ve made me question everything I knew. You’ve been putting yourself in danger at every turn, not because you were told, but for somebody you loved, because you believed it was right.” He paused, flicking the end of the tie with his thumb. “You know how the tattoos are an oath to be loyal to the family?”

  I nodded. “To the death,” I said. How could I forget?

  Jack gave a small nod and touched his forearm. “I’ve never even considered breaking that oath before. Ever. But I did, for you. To keep you safe. Everything—from letting you go at prom, to tonight, at the ball—it’s all been for you. As much as I tried to tell myself it was for the Saxons, it wasn’t true. As much as I said I was going to Istanbul just for Fitz, it wasn’t true. Every second I wasn’t with you, I was thinking about you. Worrying about you. It wasn’t for them.” He cut his eyes to me, lowered his voice. “It was all for you.”

  All of a sudden, even with the breeze, it felt too hot out here. I pressed my palms to the cool tiles.

  “Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?” I whispered. The whole world had faded away to nothing but the two of us, and the storm, and everything I thought I knew, smashing into pieces again. “I’m sure it was obvious how I felt. How I feel.”

  My face got even hotter, and I was glad it was dark.

  A ghost of a smile crossed his face. “No, I . . . I mean, after I kissed you, and you let me, I thought, maybe . . . I wasn’t sure.”

  A laugh bubbled up, like champagne bubbles pushing past the ache in my chest.

  “I told myself you couldn’t possibly feel the same way. I’m only a Keeper. Even if you were just a cousin, it would’ve been impossible, and once we realized what you really are . . .”

  He trailed off. I thought about the Emirs’ Keeper, terminated when he was caught having a relationship with a family member.

  I leaned my head back against the wall. My own father wouldn’t be so harsh, would he? And anyway, we could keep a secret. So maybe if we started something now, we’d have to stop it later to not get found out. I could deal with that when and if it happened. The stakes were bigger for Jack, and I didn’t want to put him in danger, but I was pretty sure he felt the same way I did. Some things were just worth the risk.

  And suddenly, at least for the moment, I knew what I was longing for. I’d understand if he refused, but I had to say it.

  “I want you to stay,” I blurted out.

  At the exact time, he said, “Is it okay if I stay?”

  “I don’t want to be alone, and we could be really careful and no one would know—”

  “I don’t want to leave you alone. Anything could happen—”

  “Right,” I said, butterflies fluttering in my stomach. I couldn’t believe I’d said that. I couldn’t believe it had worked. I stood up. “Yeah. Um. Come in.”

  Jack’s face fell. “I . . .” He shook his head. “I can’t risk getting caught in your room.”

  “Oh.” I tried not to look as horribly disappointed as I felt. Of course he just meant staying here to guard me. Nothing more. Of course it was too dangerous. My judgment was clouded.

  And then the crackling air burst open. Lightning tore apart the sky, and the clouds that had been threatening all day ripped apart.

  I scrambled back through the window, dashing rain out of my eyes. Jack leapt to standing.

  “You can come in,” I whispered. “It’s only us in here.”

  He hesitated, but climbed in and huddled inches inside. He glanced back out like maybe he should leave after all. Then back at me like he didn’t want to.

  I stood across from him awkwardly. I’d spent the past forty-eight hours running across Europe, being shot at, stealing antiquities, but I still couldn’t deal with one boy. I knew it was wrong, and I knew it was dangerous, but I didn’t want him to leave.

  I crossed the room to the hallway door, made sure it was locked, and put the vanity chair under the doorknob. The rain hammered the roof, punctuated with pings off the metal railing. I thought I saw a smile on Jack’s face in the dark.

  “Come in,” I whispered.

  Water made my dress heavy and bulky, and in the bit of light from outside, I could see Jack’s shirt dripping, clinging to the lines of his body, and now I really couldn’t think.

  “Clothes!” The word flew out of my mouth. No one would overhear. The rain was so loud now, I could barely hear myself. “Dry clothes! I can get you some.”

  “Yeah, that’d be brilliant. Thanks.” I heard a smile in his voice. I hoped he couldn’t hear how flustered I was in mine.

  I felt his eyes on me while I flipped on the lamp in the closet and searched for anything that would fit him. I finally found a pair of flannel pants. I couldn’t find a shirt that was big enough, so he’d have to decide what to do about that.

  I tossed him the pants and gestured to the bathroom, then turned back to the pajama drawer. Nightgowns, a lavender silk shorts and tank top set, lacy black lingerie . . .

  My face got hot just looking at the lingerie. I pulled out the shorts and tank top and slammed the drawer.

  When I’d changed into them and hung the wet dress on a hanger, I looked in the mirror. In the pale lamplight, I looked soft, romantic. My damp hair fell in waves, dark against my skin, and my eyes looked wider, darker than usual. My heart was too empty and too full at the same time.

  I came out of the walk-in at the same time Jack opened the bathroom door. He wore only the pants I had given him, his bare upper body silhouetted against the bathroom light. A cool, rain-scented breeze blew through the open balcony window, and goose bumps rose on my skin.

  We could just sleep next to each other. Just so I wouldn’t be alone.

  Jack reached behind him to the bathroom light switch.

  “You can sleep in the bed with me. If you want.” The words rushed out of my mouth before I could stop them. “I mean, I know it’s dangerous. And it’s up to you. But no one knows you’re here. And the bed’s really . . . big.”

  As he flipped the switch, a flash of lightning made the room as bright as day, illuminating him, his lips parted, eyes wide.

  Thunder crashed right on top of the lightning, so loud that it shook the floor. My heart, which had already been beating doubletime, hammered so hard my hands shook.

  Jack stepped out from the bathroom door. “I think that means yes,” he said.

  CHAPTER 34

  I slipped under the covers and shivered at the crisp cool of the sheets. I shivered again when I felt Jack climb in on the other side. I was in bed with Jack. I’d asked him to get into my bed. And he’d done it, despite the fact that being caught here would be very, very bad. I would never have imagined a boy spending the night in my bed to be a life-or-death situation.

  Neither of us had closed the window, and the rain pounded down wildly. A gust of wind stirred the chandelier, and the crystals tinkled.

  “Good night?” I whispered. I hadn’t meant for it to sound like a question.

  “G’night,” he said after a second. He didn’t sound disappointed, which made me feel a little disappointed.

  W
henever I slept over at Lara’s, I barely knew there was another person in the bed. Now, though, I could sense the heat radiating off Jack’s body, feel every shift of the covers.

  Jack moved closer. If not for the rain, my full-body buzz might be audible by now. I shifted, too, a minuscule movement toward the middle of the bed. And then my pinky finger touched a body part that wasn’t my own, and my buzz short-circuited. Jack’s fingers twined around mine until I could feel his pulse where they interlaced.

  I tried to calm my racing heart. Holding his hand—even in my bed—was nothing. But it didn’t feel like nothing. The warmth of his bare arm against mine edged out the cool of the sheets, and the band of tension around my chest started to relax. It was like even though I’d said all the wrong things outside, Jack had heard exactly what I meant.

  And then the sheets rustled, shifted, and a lightning strike lit everything to neon. I could see the outline of Jack’s shoulders as he rolled onto his side. After a second, his fingers wrapped around my hip, and he pulled me gently onto my side, too, facing him. He brought the sheet up and over our heads. My unsteady breath echoed off the covers and our bodies, louder now than the rain pounding outside.

  Not only was I in bed with Jack, I was in bed, under the sheets, so close my knees pressed into his. I felt his face tilt down to mine, and I let my lips inch closer to his.

  But he didn’t kiss me. Instead, he pulled our interlaced hands up between us. He straightened my fingers with his, and ran his fingertips down my palm.

  I never thought I’d forget about kissing, but just then, I did. I wanted him to do nothing but touch my hand like this for the rest of my life. And then his fingers trailed over my wrist, down the inside of my arm.

  I pressed my lips together hard. Air. I needed air. But I didn’t pull back the sheets. If I moved, it might stop. Breathing wasn’t worth it.

  Jack took his fingers off my arm. Before I could wonder why he’d stopped, he grasped my hand, all its nerve endings wide awake now, and pressed it to his own chest.

  There was something delirious about not being able to see, about just feeling the warmth radiating from his body, hearing the soft in-and-out of his breathing, smelling the rain through the open window and on his skin. It mixed with his own scent, warm, earthy, cozy, like a fall storm, making me want to bury my face in his neck. My fingers settled into the curve over his heart, and he swept my hair off my shoulder, the strands tickling my skin. His touch was slow, cautious.

  Oh. I hadn’t considered that he might not know how I’d react. When he brushed the soft patch of skin behind my ear, I let my neck arch into him, showing him just how okay this was.

  I’d almost forgotten where my own hand was until I felt his heartbeat speed up. And then it hit me. After all we’d talked about outside, he thought he had to prove to me that I could trust him. That how he felt about me was real. He didn’t know how to do it with words, so he was showing me instead. He couldn’t fake the pounding pulse under my palm.

  And at the same time, he was making me open up. And I was letting him. Here, in the dark, I had let down my guard without even realizing it.

  All I wanted was to do the same for him.

  I let my fingertips move, tentatively. I’d never touched a guy’s bare chest before. It was hard and soft at the same time, smooth skin over firm muscle.

  My fingers grew more confident as I traced down his side, where a few small, round scars marred his skin. I stopped at one and he tensed, like me noticing this imperfection made him feel too exposed. Maybe I should have moved on, but I liked knowing there were imperfect parts of him. I stroked the scar with one fingertip. It took a minute, but I finally felt the tension melt out of him.

  This tiny moment felt more intimate than all the kissing in the world.

  Everyone kissed. I’d kissed other guys. He’d probably done a lot more than kiss with other girls. But this was different. More. I’d seen cracks in his armor. Now I felt him taking it off.

  I ran my hand over his forearm, over where my memory told me his tattoo was even if my eyes didn’t. To his neck, where blood pulsed life through the surprisingly delicate skin at his throat, pushed aside a lock of still-damp hair clinging to his forehead. It had gotten warmer under the sheets, but every new bit of his skin still felt cool.

  All the time, I fell closer into the kind of trance I didn’t ever want to wake up from, half asleep and wide awake all at once.

  Jack traced a path down my nose, across the bow in my upper lip. Then catching on the chain of my locket. To my shoulder. Our lips still weren’t touching, but I was breathing his air and he was breathing mine.

  Something in the far back of my mind told me it would be too easy, in this trance of our breath and our fingers and the rain pounding outside, to sleepwalk ourselves into something I wasn’t sure I was ready for. Jack traced my forearm.

  Yes, too easy.

  One fingertip stroked the inside of my palm. My body felt unfamiliar, unsteady.

  His hand settled on the curve of my hip.

  With considerable effort, I made myself take hold of his wrist. He froze. My eyes fluttered open, blinking in the dark. I hoped he didn’t think anything was wrong. It wasn’t that at all.

  After just a second, he exhaled softly. He straightened my fingers once more and pressed a kiss to my palm, then to each of my fingertips in turn. I felt a smile tug at my lips.

  Finally he pulled the sheet off our heads, and cool air rushed in. I shivered, and Jack pulled me close, until I snuggled into the crook of his arm. His lips brushed my forehead and settled in my hair, and when I pressed my palm to his chest again, his breathing fell into a steady in-and-out within minutes.

  I breathed a small, contented sigh into his chest. After everything that had happened, how was it possible for me to feel this happy right now?

  I didn’t know if I’d be able to sleep at all, and a part of me didn’t want to. I wasn’t ready to lose tonight to unconsciousness yet, wasn’t ready to face the real world again in the morning. But with the steady beat of Jack’s heart under my hand, and his warm skin against my cheek, I finally drifted off into dreams.

  CHAPTER 35

  I thought I knew what it felt like to wake up, but I’d never woken up like this. I opened my eyes to the unfamiliar and incredibly pleasant sensation of my head rising and falling to the rhythm of someone else’s breath.

  For a second, I didn’t remember where I was.

  My head was still nuzzled into Jack’s chest. One of his arms held me close to his side, and his other hand rested on top of mine over his heart. Only our legs had moved, tangling themselves together.

  Last night had seemed like a dream, but he was here, his skin cool under my fingers, his soft breath stirring my hair.

  As I watched, his brows knitted together and his eyes flicked back and forth under his lids like he was having a bad dream. I stroked his chest with one fingertip. He stirred, and his eyes fluttered open.

  His heart sped up under my palm and we stared at each other silently. We were both still dressed; we hadn’t done anything, really. So why did it feel like we’d done everything?

  The morning light flooding the room suddenly felt wrong. Like it was forcing us back to the real world, the world where something other than the two of us existed. Where we had to do something now besides stare at each other—where we had to either acknowledge what had happened the previous night or pretend nothing had happened at all. We already had too much to deal with. Maybe not complicating things more would be for the best.

  Still, neither of us had moved so much as a toe. Why was this so hard?

  Finally, my fingers rebelled against the silence, tightening on Jack’s chest.

  The corners of his lips turned up. “Hi,” he mouthed.

  A grin spread across my face. “Hi,” I mouthed back.

  Jack’s smile grew and I let m
ine take over. For the first time, maybe ever, my chest wasn’t empty and aching and cold at all. In fact, it felt so full, it could have burst. This was worth the possibility of getting hurt a million times.

  Had I never understood because I never let myself, or because I never had anyone to understand with? It turns out falling for someone doesn’t feel like falling at all.

  Jack glanced at the chair still under the doorknob, then settled back and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

  “How did you sleep?” he whispered.

  “Really well.” Despite everything, it was the best I’d slept in a long time. “You?” I wondered if he’d slept at all, or if he’d been as alert all night as I should have been.

  He threaded his fingers through mine. “Best I’ve slept in ages,” he murmured. The hint of self-consciousness looked out of place on his face. “I should probably go, though.”

  I wanted to protest. I didn’t want him to leave, ever. But I knew he was right.

  He pulled back the sheet and sat up, and the sun no longer seemed wrong. Now it was fine, bathing the beautiful, half-clothed boy in my bed in light.

  He took his clothes into the bathroom, and I grabbed my phone out of my bag. First I called my mom again—no answer. But I’d thought of something else in that fuzzy place between asleep and awake.

  As I dialed the number to retrieve my mom’s phone messages, I hugged the pillow that smelled intoxicatingly like Jack and stared out the window at a clearer morning, like the edges of the world had been sharpened overnight. The sun shone on the top of the pyramid, the music of the traffic below came softly through the window, and I was almost able to forget that Jack and I—that apparently Jack and I were now a we—had made things even more complicated. And infinitely more dangerous. Even so, I couldn’t stop grinning.

  I typed in my mom’s code and skipped through message after increasingly panicked message from myself—and then my insides went cold.