by Ward, Tamryn
“No, of course I don’t.”
My tight chest loosens slightly. “Good. I was getting worried for a moment. The way you said, ‘hmmm’.”
“It just doesn’t look good for you, since you can’t prove where you were.” Mattie chews her lower lip. She’s concerned.
So am I. “Everyone else was at dinner. Or, at least I assume they were,” I tell her.
Still giving me a worried look, Mattie shrugs. “Well, we’ll see. Maybe they’ll figure it out before they get to you.”
“Let’s hope.” I lock eyes with her.
“And let’s hope Paul is okay,” she adds.
“Yes,” I agree. “Let’s hope he’s okay.”
Henry laughs and my gaze slides to him. I lean closer to Mattie and flick my eyes in his direction. If I were a betting person, I would put money on Henry stabbing Paul. There’s something about him… Under his cocky swagger lurks something even more dangerous. I have no doubt he could be cold-blooded, merciless, devious, vengeful.
“Henry was upset about Paul beating him in phase one,” I mention.
“Yes, he was.” Mattie glances his way. “He gives me the creeps. For more reason than one.”
“I don’t trust him.”
“Or Alice,” Mattie adds.
“What about Alice?” Tom strolls up and flops an arm over Mattie’s shoulder. Helen stands behind them, her gaze ping-ponging back and forth.
Mattie’s face turns a flattering shade of pink. Gauging by how deep her flush is, I guess she likes Tom. A lot. And I have to admit, there’s a lot to like about him. He’s cute. Strong. And an allover good guy.
Smiling, she elbows the allover nice guy in the ribcage, and he puts on a believable wounded guy act, hugging his middle and howling before flopping his arm right back on her shoulder again.
“Well?” Tom asks as Mattie and I exchange looks.
“Nothing,” Mattie says.
Tom heaves an exaggerated sigh. “You were talking about me again, weren’t you?” he says as if his life is about to end.
“Maybe,” Mattie says, her mouth curling into a flirty smile. “Maybe not.” She pinches his finger between her thumb and forefinger, lifting his hand. “If you keep this up, everyone will be talking about you.” She lets go, giving him mean eyes. “Don’t touch me again.”
“You like it. I know you do.” He nudges her. “Come on.”
Mattie rolls her eyes and grabs my hand, tugging me to my feet. “Let’s go, Eva.”
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“Anywhere, he isn’t.” she indicates Tom. “A walk. A run. Oh, I know. Let’s go look for some real men in the weight room.”
Tom, who apparently fails to meet Mattie’s definition of a real man, claps a hand to his chest. “You wound me again.”
Mattie giggles. “Someone needs to keep you on your toes.”
“Oh, that will never happen. Never!” His lopsided smile is infectious.
Mattie tries to hide her grin as she stomps past him. “He’s infuriating.”
“Infuriating?” I echo, one brow cocked. He’s being funny and flirty and cute. How is that infuriating?
“Absolutely,” Mattie proclaims. “Whatever I say, Tom insists on saying the opposite. At dinner, before…well, before they found Paul…we were talking about our families and pets back home, and that led to a heated debate over which pet is better, dogs or cats, and you know what that…that child… said?”
It was surprising to hear I wasn’t the topic of tonight’s dinner conversation before the excitement of Paul’s stabbing, at least not at Mattie’s table. “No idea.”
“Neither is best. Because he thinks pets are useless.” She heaves a sigh. “Infuriating.”
“Oh, yes.” I catch some movement in the corner of my eye. I glance that way but see nothing. “Most definitely infuriating.”
“Mattie!” The infuriating man-child jogs up to us. “Paul’s alive. George told me he’s in the infirmary and wants to talk to me and you.”
Mattie gives me a questioning look. As if she has to ask my permission to go anywhere. I shoo her off. “Go. We can go ogle guys in the gym another time.”
Tom grabs her hand. This time she doesn’t pull it away. “Do you want to come with us?” she asks me.
“No, not now. I’ll head over later.”
“Okay.” She hesitates for a fraction of a second before letting Tom lead her away.
I watch her go then turn down a hallway I haven’t noticed before. It’s short and ends abruptly at an exit. I push through the door, stepping outside.
The air is crisp and cool and fresh. The sky is salmon and purple at one end, deep indigo at the other. I listen. It’s as silent as a still winter’s night until I hear a metallic creak behind me.
Door hinges. Someone has followed me.
Could it be the killer?
If it is, do I have anything to worry about?
Or is it Roy?
I whirl around and see it’s Jay. He’s standing just outside the door, watching me, as if I was a skittish colt. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you again. I seem to do that a lot.”
“You didn’t startle me. Not this time.” Another lie, not that it matters. He doesn’t really care if he startled me. But I wonder why he followed me. I hope he didn’t get the wrong idea from my hug. That I…that I meant anything by it. Because I didn’t. It was a silly impulse. I was just excited because I’d finally been able to hit the target. And he had been there at the time. It could have been anyone. Like Mattie. I would have hugged Mattie if she’d been in his place.
I think.
We both start talking at once. I start to tell him I acted like a complete fool and he starts saying something else. I don’t hear his words because I’m too busy stuttering out my apology. He stops me by placing his fingertips on my lips.
It works. I stop talking.
And I stop breathing.
And I stop thinking.
My mouth is tingling all over. And my heart is racing now too. Nothing feels like it did with Sam. Or Roy. The tingles, the racing heart, they are good sensations. Very good.
“Shhhh,” he says. After glancing left and right, he takes my hand and pulls, leading me farther away from the building.
“I…where…?” I whisper as I let him lead me. We stroll down the sidewalk, our hands linked. If there are any onlookers, they’d probably think we were lovers out for a romantic moonlit stroll.
And they’d be wrong. Absolutely wrong.
We are…I mean, he is…
Jay is my teacher. Yes, that’s it. He’s my teacher.
I’m his student.
And we’re…we’re walking in the semi-dark because…?
He turns and we continue along the side of the building. There, he stops. We’re facing a small lake. Along one side I see some kind of structure, a building. “This way.”
“Should we be out here?” I whisper. I don’t see anyone within earshot. I don’t see anyone at all, but I figure it’s better to be quiet than to announce to the whole world that I’m out here alone with my trainer.
“Are you scared?” he asks.
“Yes.”
He smiles. “You? Afraid?”
“I’m scared of some things.”
“And so am I. But I’m not afraid of this.” He pulls me and we run around the lake and up to the structure. Now that we’re closer, I can see it isn’t a building. It’s a raised platform, a dock on stilts. “Come on.” He tugs me toward the ladder and motions me to climb it.
I scale the wooden rungs, aware that he’s right behind me. At the top he walks to the edge and sits, his feet dangling. Then he falls back, his head cushioned by his hands. “This is where I come when I need some quiet.” He points at the darkening sky. Brilliant stars glitter like diamonds in the velvety depth. It’s the same sky I’ve stared at all my life. And yet tonight it seems so much more beautiful. Breathtaking. Then again, maybe I’m short of breath because Jay is be
side me.
Against my better judgment, I lay next to him, with my feet hanging over the edge like his. We are quiet for a while, just staring up at the heavens. A million questions run through my head. But one keeps coming up, over and over.
Why did he bring me here?
I feel something, fingers grazing my hand. And then his hand is resting on top of mine. My heart skips a beat or two.
What is happening?
Is he…?
Does he…?
Chapter 18
“It’s hard sometimes,” Jay says.
“What’s hard?” I ask when he doesn’t elaborate.
We’re lying on some kind of raised platform, a blanket of black velvet and glittering silver stars spread out above us. His words don’t exactly fit the situation.
“All of this. This place. This life. And I wonder, when I lay up here, looking at the stars and the endless sky, what else is out there. What kind of places, people, life.”
“This isn’t what I thought it would be,” I admit once I get a grip on where he’s going with the conversation. “It’s harder than I expected.”
He rolls his head to the side and looks at me. I’m in awe of him at the moment. Painted in moonlight he looks so strong and beautiful, and yet sad, like a mythical creature of some kind. A fallen angel. “Do you regret your choice?” he asks.
I don’t know how to answer his question. In some ways, I do regret it. But I say, “No. Do you?”
“Sometimes.” He looks skyward again. The silvery light carves dark hollows under his cheekbone and along his jaw. “Who are you, Eva Pearson?” he asks.
“You know who I am. You just said my name.”
“I know your name, but that’s pretty much all I know.”
What does he want to know? And why? “You know more than that,” I tell him.
“Okay, you’re right. I know you’re clever.” He gazes at me again. His lips curve into a semi-smile. The expression is charming and frightening at the same time. Terrifying because I can’t help staring and wishing he would smile like that all the time. This can’t be okay, me being out here with him like this, talking like we’re friends, not recruit and trainer. “You’re resourceful. Strong. Fast. And a terrible shot with a gun.”
“Hey, I’m getting better,” I defend myself.
“Fair enough. You’re a decent shot with a gun…now.”
“Just wait. I’ll be an excellent shot. Once I have more practice.”
He rolls onto his side and lifts his head, resting it on a fist. “You’re determined. I’ll give you credit for that. Why? What made you come here?”
“A lot of things,” I admit as I stare at his mouth. His lips are neither too thin nor too full. I wonder what they might taste like, feel like, pressed to mine. I shake my head to try to knock that insane thought out of my head. I sit up and scoot away from him. He’s too close, and it’s so quiet up here, and it’s just the two of us. Just him. And me. And I want this so much. I want him to grab my arms, force me onto my back, and kiss me until I can’t think or breathe or beg him to stop.
“Such as…?” He prods.
“Such as…” Thoughts race through my head. I’m tingly all over and dizzy. And something is pulling me toward him, an invisible force. I can’t fight it, no matter how hard I try, or how much I want to. “I…I wanted to do something meaningful. Something helpful. What about you?”
“I…things weren’t great at home. So I figured this would be better.”
“Ah.”
Our gazes lock. The air thins. A million volts zap between us until he breaks the connection and rolls onto his back.
Silence stretches. It becomes heavy. Too heavy.
“Jay, I’m sorry…for…hugging you.”
“Don’t apologize for that.”
His response surprises me. I study his profile and wonder what he’s thinking. He’s an enigma. I don’t know where he came from, what he thinks, feels, or believes. He seems to be reaching out to me. Was it because of that hug?
“I won’t then,” I say. “I’m not sorry. Not really. I just thought I owed you an apology.”
He looks at me again. Studies me as if I’m a strange creature he’s never seen before. “Why? Did I say something to make you think that?”
“No.”
He sits up. His gaze is focused on my face. It hasn’t left it in a while and my heart is galloping in my chest. “Have you ever been kissed, Eva?”
Kissed?
My galloping heart jumps. “Um...”
He reaches for my face, and a jolt of jittery nerves blaze through me. Is he going to kiss me? Really?
No.
Maybe.
Yes!
He combs his fingers through my hair at my temple. His thumb grazes my cheek. “I want to kiss you, Eva.”
Ohmygod!
“I…I…” I stammer as I lean back. I don’t know what to say, what to do. Jay wants to kiss me. Me!
I’m so happy.
And so scared.
And excited.
And terrified.
I’ve never felt so many emotions all at once.
“Should I kiss you, Eva? Or should I not? Do you love someone? That guy? From the wall? Do you love him?”
What should I do?
Should I admit the truth?
Or should I keep my secret?
Should I let him kiss me?
He’s my teacher. My trainer. My superior.
What should I do?
As my mind races, my stomach muscles clench. I lean further back. Slowly my body lowers until I’m flat on my back. Every part of my body below my neck knows what I want, just not my head.
He angles closer, arms holding his bulky body over mine. His face is inches from mine. Close enough that his exhalations caress my face. I am holding my breath. I can’t move. I’m frozen in place, afraid that if I do anything, even blink, this magical moment will end and he’ll leave, thinking he made a big mistake. He probably is making a big mistake. We both are. But I don’t want to stop him. “Eva, can I kiss you?”
“Yes,” I hear myself say on a sigh.
His lips are soft, moist, gentle. They fit against mine perfectly. Electricity charges through my body.
I have read a lot of books. All kinds of books. Including love stories. And I’ve read about the magic of a kiss. But reality has never been anything like what I’d read.
Until now.
This kiss is beyond-words wonderful.
I sigh when his lips press harder into mine. We both inhale. I hear the soft whooshing sound. I also hear the racing thump of my heartbeat in my ears. And I feel the sizzling blood pounding through my body. I am alive. More alive than I’ve ever been. And I don’t want this kiss to end. Ever.
But it does. Much too soon.
I want to grab him and pull him to me again.
He sits upright and looks down at me. His lips, the ones that had just been caressing mine, curl into a smile. “Are you okay?”
“No,” I say. That is no lie. I’m lightheaded and dizzy. And a million thoughts are buzzing through my head. What we are doing is crazy. And probably prohibited. But I don’t want to stop. I want to kiss him again and again and again. I want to spend all night kissing him. And all day. Every night. And every day.
“Neither am I,” he says. He looks okay. He sounds okay, too. Actually he looks better than okay.
I can’t believe what’s happening. It’s like a dream. If it is a dream, I don’t want to wake up. Ever.
“Come on. We’d better get back.” He stands, offers me a hand up.
I place my hand in his. Our gazes lock. My face gets hot. “Thanks,” I whisper.
“For what?” His smile brightens. It’s blinding.
“For…for helping me…stand up.” And for making that kiss so memorable, I think. I couldn’t say that. It’s too embarrassing. “And helping me learn how to shoot a gun.”
“It was my pleasure.”
“Hav
e you heard anything about Roy?” I ask as we step up to the ladder.
His expression turns apologetic. “Nothing yet. They’re still searching for him. I believe he’s left the compound.”
I nod. I hope he has left. I hope he’s far away. Far. Safe. And happy.
I look down and watch Jay descend the ladder. I follow once he’s on the ground. He holds my waist as I drop from the last step. It’s a good thing. I’m a little unsteady on my feet after that kiss. We hold hands all the way around the lake, until we reach the walkway leading to the building. When he lets go, my soaring mood sinks just a little.
What will happen now?
Do we have to pretend that kiss never happened?
Do we have to act like we don’t like each other?
I’m not sure I can do either. But I know I have no choice.
* * * * *
When my sister was little she used to wake up every night, screaming at the top of her lungs. Nightmares. She had nightmares. Every. Single. Night.
Father would go into her room and hold her as she trembled and wept. It would take at least twenty minutes for her to settle down and fall asleep. It was awful. Not just for Emma but for all of us. She never told us what the nightmares were about. It went on for years.
Maybe that was why I don’t wake up right away. I thought it was my sister, having one of her nightmares. But eventually, as the yelling continues, I realize it isn’t Emma.
I bolt upright and blink bleary eyes around the room, following the sound. The shouting is coming from somewhere to my right. Stumbling, I make my way to the lamp and light it.
Blood. Blood is everywhere. On the floor. On the bed. On the wall. It’s coming from Tom. His hands are cupped over his chest. I can’t see exactly where he’s bleeding.
Mattie yells, “Ohmygod! I’ll get help!” and sprints from the room.
Me, I stand frozen for several seconds before instinct kicks in and I run to Tom. I shout, “What’s wrong? Let me help!” over and over, but he just sits there, hands covering his chest, head tipped down. Eventually he stops screaming, but he won’t answer me, won’t move. “Breathe,” I tell him. “Stay still and breathe.” I try to get a look at the wound, but he keeps his chest covered and uses his elbow to nudge me away. Some of the other trainees crowd around him, around me. He has people all around him, and yet we’re useless. We can’t help him.
