CHAPTER 19

WE’VE BEEN SITTING HERE AROUND this joke of a fire for almost half an hour now, and there’s still no sign the instructors are going to take us back to the houses any time soon. They called the game, announcing Mirage the winner, just a few minutes after Ghost and I got back, but she has yet to emerge. Ten minutes ago, Sever and Ruger went in after her, following their handy dandy tracker app.

Matrix touches a finger to her ear like she’s listening to something, and a moment later, whispers something quietly. Then she moves to stand in front of the van closest to us. “Pack it in, recruits. We’re heading out in five.”

Wraith snuffs the fire and directs us into the vans, team Sever in one, team Matrix in the other. I end up in the very back row, next to the window and press myself in tight to make room for other recruits. I don’t get other recruits, though. I get Maverick.

He drops down onto the seat next to me with an audible sigh, and we sit there in awkward silence as the van fills with our teammates. Eventually, Wraith slams the doors shut and heads for the driver’s seat. I guess we’re leaving Ruger and Sever out here.

“Are you with him?” Maverick all but whispers as the engine roars to life. His tone is quiet, neutral, and his question is almost drowned out by the vehicle noise and the louder conversations happening around us.

Am I with Ghost? Does one kiss make us a couple? I don’t know what we are. I’m interested in him; I can’t deny that to myself. He’s strong, and solid, and handsome, and best I can tell, a decent person. He’s come through for me over and over. Are we a thing? I don’t know, but I’m not against the idea. A girl could do worse.

But, a girl could also do better.

I’m inherently aware of Maverick’s proximity to me, of the heat of his body next to mine. If I shift an inch to my right, our legs would be touching, hip to knee. His hands are resting on his thighs, fingers splayed. My own fingers are dangerously close to brushing his with every bump we go over. If I really wanted to be Ghost’s girlfriend, I wouldn’t be so aware of Maverick, so attracted to him. Would I? “We just kissed.”

Maverick’s lips set in a hard line. Then, “He tried to sabotage Prodigy.”

We hit a particularly hard bump, and my stomach lurches. Though, whether it’s from the jolt or Maverick’s words, I can’t be sure. “What do you mean?”

“He got Prodigy into a conversation, got him to give up basically his entire life story, then psyched him out about The Program.”

“That can’t be right. Ghost told me he’d never even spoken to Prodigy.”

Maverick rolls his eyes and lifts his hands in a gesture that clearly says he’s waiting for me to connect the dots and quickly losing patience.

“You think he lied to me about talking to Prodigy?”

He favors me with a curt nod. “I found out that night, the night before Prodigy…died. The kid took it really hard, was really freaking out. I thought I’d talked him down, but the next morning...”

An ache starts in the center of my chest, and I curl my shoulders around it protectively. Did Ghost purposely mess with Prodigy’s head? Was he the reason Prodigy committed suicide? “Maybe Ghost didn’t mean to upset him.” But that still doesn’t explain why he would lie to me about talking to him.

Maverick’s hand curls into a fist, but he doesn’t say anything. Is he shutting me out because I’m not blindly believing him?

The way I blindly believed Ghost when he told me had never spoken with Prodigy? I’m a fool. And a jerk. But what can I say now that the damage is already done?

“I don’t think he would intentionally try to drive someone to do what Prodigy did.” Good plan: go down with this ship even though you know it’s sinking. My reasoning is flimsy at best, and I only say it because it’s what I want to believe. But the idea doesn’t quite ring true even to my own ears.

“I overheard him doing the same thing to Ammo the other day. Only, she didn’t buy into it.”

“He’s never tried to do that to me,” I say softly, like it somehow disproves what Maverick is telling me. We pull up outside Sever House, and Wraith cuts the engine. She climbs out and rounds the van to let us out, but Maverick and I are stuck where we are until everyone else clears out.

“Maybe he has different motives with you.” Maverick punctuates his words by looking me over pointedly from head to toe. I know exactly what he’s insinuating, and the accusation makes my stomach churn. But I don’t know if it’s because what he’s saying is awful or because, deep down, I’m worried he might be right.

I grasp at mental straws to convince myself that Ghost isn’t just trying to get in my pants. “We’re working together,” I whisper, then immediately regret the words.

Maverick spins to face me, eyes wide, mouth hanging in shock.

“Come on, recruits. I don’t have all night,” Wraith calls, and it’s then that I realize we’re alone in the van. Maverick must be in a hurry to be away from me now, because he shoots out of his seat and out of the van at record speed.

I’m significantly clumsier getting out and end up tangled in a seat belt before I’ve even left my row. When I finally have boots on solid ground again, Maverick is gone.

My trek across the yard is a blur. I’m too focused on what’s just happened to notice anything or anyone. I might have been alone outside, or everyone still in The Program could have stood along the sidelines of my path and I wouldn’t have noticed. Or even cared.

Once inside, I’m already heading in the direction of Maverick’s room before I’ve officially made up my mind to try to talk to him. Girls aren’t supposed to be in guys’ rooms—and vice versa—Sever told us on day one, but my feet take me there anyway. My boots don’t care, and neither do I. The house is quiet, almost too quiet, as I ascend the stairs and pad across the landing to the boys’ wing. But then again, we’re down half our numbers since this little shindig started. Soon, only a handful of Team Sever will be left here.

By the time I get to Maverick’s room, I’m second guessing my decision to have a little chat right now. Maybe I should wait until morning. Or never. The door is wide open when I get there, and I step in without knocking. The minute I step over the threshold, my tattered nerve deserts me completely. Coming here had seemed like a good idea just moments ago. Now, I’m not sure how to breathe the air in this room. Maverick is perched, shirtless and ramrod straight, on the edge of his bed. An angry yellow and purple bruise mars the smooth skin on his left side. Is he sitting so tense because of his injury—an injury that barely seemed to slow him down tonight—or because of my presence? Do I make him feel as off-balance as he leaves me?

His expression is ice cold as he surveys me standing at the doorway, just the wrong side of the boundary to his safe space, but I don’t back down. “Hey.”

“Hey.” If his gaze is ice, then his tone is frozen tundra, a desolate wasteland of frigid sentiment.

“Can we talk?” I take a step closer to him.

And just like that, his glacial disposition bursts into flames.

“You partnered with him.” His words are so filled with venom, I can’t absorb the sting.

“I didn’t know.” My words sound weak even to my own ears, but it’s all I have to stand on. I didn’t know. If I’d known, I would have done things differently. At least, I think I would have. But I don’t say that. No need to make a bad situation worse. “I didn’t know that’s how he was playing this.”

Maverick’s temper seems to cool with my admission, and his shoulders drop just a fraction, like he’s deflating without the heat of his anger. He reaches for a shirt slung over the back of the desk chair and slips it on.

I chance another step forward, and when he doesn’t react, another. Until I’m standing in front of him, close enough to reach out and run my fingers through his tousled dark hair. My fingers itch to do just that, to smooth the errant strands before tracing the lines of his sharp cheekbones and square jaw. But I don’t touch him. I fist my hands at my side and wait. What I’m waiting for, I don’t know, but I wait.

Finally, my patience is rewarded.

“If you’re going to be in here, you might as well sit.”

I don’t wait to be told twice. I drop down onto the mattress next to him because the alternative is Prodigy’s empty bed and that feels too disrespectful right now. We spend the next several awkward moments staring at the wall behind Prodigy’s bed.

“Are you guys… a thing?” Maverick’s voice is smaller than I would have thought possible. It’s the second time he’s asked me this question, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s asking because he’s into me.

“No.” He’s just a guy I make out with in the woods, apparently.

Maverick spears me with a look of intensity. He caught the uncertainty in my answer. “He wants you to be.”

I don’t know how to respond to that, so I don’t. Instead, I give in to the urge to trace a small scratch on his cheek. He doesn’t flinch at the touch, but his eyes slide shut on a soft sigh. Emboldened by his acceptance of my touch, I move to trace the split in his lip, a lesser remnant of injury left over after his fight with Ghost. His breath is warm on my hand, and I catch myself leaning toward him. I suck in a breath when I realize I’m just inches away from kissing him. His eyes spring open, and I’m ensnared in the depths of his gaze, unable to move away.

My emotions are a tornado in the pit of my stomach, my thoughts a maelstrom in the depths of my brain. Does he know how badly I want to kiss him? Does he want to kiss me? Is he thinking about the way Ghost kissed me earlier? I silently bemoan the fact that I can never tell what’s going on in Maverick’s brain.

“Maverick…” His name rolls off my tongue, but I have no coherent thought to follow it with. He licks his lips, and suddenly, all of my attention is centered there, following the motion of his tongue.

“Please don’t look at me like that.” His voice is gravelly and raw, desperate.

I know exactly how I’m looking at him, but still I ask quietly, “Like what?”

When he licks his lips again, I mirror the action. And then his lips are on mine, and his hand is on the back of my neck pulling me closer, deeper into the kiss. His mouth is firm, powerful, in control, and I melt into him. My lips part, and his tongue slides through, tangling with mine, making promises he’d never say out loud, promises I shouldn’t accept. But I do. My kiss with Ghost is a fleeting thought in my mind, but if that kiss was the sun, this one is a supernova, explosive, epic, and I’m helpless under the force of it.

I breathe in deeply, savoring the scent of soap and woody air. His fingers plunge into my hair.

“Like you’re dying to kiss me.”

My breath catches in my throat. I might not be able to read him, but apparently, I’m an open book. Embarrassment heats my face, and I try to duck my head so he can’t see.

He places gentle fingers at my chin and turns my face up to his. “You don’t need to hide from me.”

And in that moment, I know it’s true. I’m safe with him. He returns his kisses to my lips, gentler this time, more controlled, and I relax into the moment, the sensations, the feel of him hovering over me, solid and masculine. He draws back to whisper in my ear, “I’ve wanted to do this since that first morning in the kitchen.” His words tickle sensitive nerve endings in my ear, and a shiver runs down my spine in response.

I stare over his shoulder remembering that first morning. He kisses my chin on his way back to my mouth, and as my eyes slide shut, my gaze catches on something shiny in the corner. A tiny white circle with a dark center. The camera.

I’ve let myself get so swept away in Maverick’s kiss, I forgot all about the fact that we’re under near constant supervision here. “Camera,” I whisper against his ear.

He grumbles inaudibly against my neck, and suddenly, the closeness is altogether too intimate. Maybe it’s because now I’m aware we might have an audience, or maybe it’s the heat of his breath on my collar—I don’t know. But I need to get out of here, like, yesterday.

The very second Maverick moves away from me, I launch myself in aim of the door.

“Infinity, wait!” he calls after me, but I don’t stop. I race into the hall and to my room. I don’t stop until I’m safely inside, with the door shut and locked behind me. Then, I lean against the solid slab of wood and slide down to the floor. I press a hand to my chest as if I can manually still my rapid heart rate, and I pull in a deep, shuddering breath.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Sim asks from inside the mound of blankets on her bed.

“Maverick,” I answer in a voice I don’t trust to say more without breaking. Maverick happened. I touch my fingers to my lips, remembering his kiss. And suddenly, beating out the other recruits for a top-six spot isn’t at the center of my focus anymore. My goal has been usurped. All I want now is more time with Maverick.