15. END
I glance around for As, but I’m alone. Or at least, that’s the illusion. If there are guards, I don’t see them. I take a few steps to the right and lean against the wall. The door of The Dance opens, closes, and someone stomps toward me. Without looking, I know it’s him.
That Guy.
Life would be better for everyone if I never learned his name. Kylie would still be alive. Lawson settles next to me, not touching but near enough that his warmth creeps into me. Too close; not close enough.
“Don’t make this harder,” I say.
“You’ve made it hard enough, don’t you think?” He shifts beside me. “Why would you agree to that? Why can’t you fight for what you want?”
“Who says I want you?”
He takes my wrist between two fingers, like he knows how much I’ve been manhandled and doesn’t want to add to it.
“Tell me you don’t.” The sentence starts as an order, ends in a plea.
“You bring out the worst in me,” I say.
He deserves to have me look him in the eye; I do. He’s already facing me, leaning against the wall, closer than I thought.
“Who says it’s the worst?” He draws a finger down my face starting where the peak of my hair would be, trailing over my nose, so slowly over my lips.
I’m hardly breathing. My heart slams against my ribs.
He taps my chin. “Maybe it’s the best.”
“I got Kylie killed.”
“That wasn’t your fault!”
I stumble back at the outburst, and he scrubs his hands on his pants, almost violently. When he’s angry everything he does seems violent.
“The victim’s not to blame,” he says in a more moderate tone. “That’s pretending you have control of things you don’t.”
“This is who I am. You don’t accept that. You never have. I don’t think you can, and that’s okay. You don’t have to.” I ball up my hands and squeeze until my nails dig into my palms. “But you do have to leave me alone. This is what I want. Please respect it, okay?”
“You don’t have to choose between me and being a Bee. You should never have let them leave you with that choice.”
“I do have to choose. You just don’t get it. It’s not only about being allowed in the tribe. It’s about what it means to be a Bee. Bees are celibate.”
Silence, and then, “But I want you. Doesn’t that count for anything?”
“It means a lot.”
Just not enough. The thought hangs between us.
“Aidan, please.”
His chest is right there, hitch-hitch-hitching with his breaths. When did we close the distance between us? My fingers find the buttons of his shirt, playing with the top one, slipping it out, then buttoning it again. My fingers don’t have my permission to do that.
“Stop that.” Lawson’s hands close over mine.
“Sorry.”
“I didn’t actually want you to stop.”
“I know, but that’s what I—”
“Well, isn’t this touching?” The round-faced A guy who beat me the night I met Lawson—the first time Lawson saved me—stands a few feet away.
I didn’t hear the door open, but then I was a little distracted. Who knows how long the A’s been standing there, listening. The idea turns my stomach. Lawson’s hands fall away from mine, and he pushes from the wall, dropping his arms to his side in an easy pose we all know is a lie; he’s not in fighting shape. The A smirks.
“Your little romance has cost D-town enough, don’t you think?” He’s talking to Lawson, not to me.
As don’t talk to Bees like we’re real people.
Lawson could tell the A it’s over between him and me, avoid a fight, but of course he doesn’t. If I say it, Lawson will lose face, so I hold my peace and try to loosen the contracted muscles in my stomach. The layered bruises on Lawson’s face and arms don’t help me relax.
Lawson motions for me to precede him back toward the door of The Dance, and I force myself to walk right by the A instead of swinging wide to stay out of his reach. The A lunges when I come even with him, and I flinch.
He laughs. “Just joshing.”
I keep moving, unable to stop my steps from speeding up, my heart pounding with adrenaline as I reach for the door and yank it open. Once secure in the doorway, I turn back.
Lawson is just passing the A. “Touch that one, and I’ll kill you in your sleep,” he says.
Despite Lawson’s injuries, the A backpedals into the street.
Lawson looks my way, and my grateful smile drops the moment I realize it’s there. Hopefully my parting look conveys, See what I mean? You really do bring out the worst in me. I retreat deeper into The Dance, looking for Sam.
When I give up on not turning around, Lawson is gone.
The night advances, and post-Council arguments give way to dancing. Hundreds of bodies pack into The Dance, undulating like one being, while I lean against the bar. I search for Lawson among the dancers, especially those moving in pairs up against the back wall, steeling myself against the possibility of seeing him with someone else, but he doesn’t return. The sun moves around the backside of the earth, and a sick feeling grows in my stomach.
“I think there’s something wrong,” I finally blurt.
Sam looks at me from under heavy eyelids. “With him, you mean? Let it go, Aidan.”
“I’m going for a walk.”
Sam catches my arm. “Are you crazy?”
I yank away. “I’m going for a bloody walk, Sam. What use is freedom if you can’t even walk at night?” I stomp off.
“Sorry,” Sam calls after me. Meaning, Sorry, but I’m not coming. I don’t have a death wish.
Well neither do I, but I can’t keep still. I wind through the crowd, looking for Lin or beanpole guy or anyone who can tell me Lawson is safe. I just need to know he’s okay. That has to be okay with the Bees, right, especially since I don’t even have to talk to him? I’m a Bee, and I say it’s fine. Which is a good thing, because even if it weren’t, I’d keep going.
Luck is on my side for once. Lin passes me a moment later, going the opposite direction, with a Witch femme hanging all over her.
“Lin,” I call, trying to ignore the fondling that’s going on.
“Aidan.” She shoves my shoulder, obviously her idea of friendliness.
I try not to wince when she hits a bruise.
“I thought you had to stay away from us bad influences.” She grins, her teeth flashing white in the dim space.
“Um, no, not all of you. Just Lawson.”
“That’s all, eh? Okay, so what do you want?”
“I’m looking for Lawson.”
She raises a brow.
“I mean, have you seen him? It’s dumb, but I have this bad feeling.”
“I haven’t seen him since he followed you out of Council.”
“Yeah, me either and I…I said…we talked…”
“And he left unhappy?” she supplies.
I nod.
“And he’s reckless when he’s unhappy.”
I nod again.
Lin sighs and drops a kiss on the Witch’s cheek. “I’ll make this up to you, babe,” she promises, then to me, “Come on. Let’s go get him.”
Which is how I find myself walking out of The Dance arm-in-arm with a Real Dealer. There’s a cluster of Bees by the door, and they all turn to watch Lin and me leave.
“Not what you think,” I say as I pass.
We stumble into the night—Lin is stumbling, bumping me. I wrote off the flushed skin and expanded pupils to the fondling, but…Oh, bother.
“You’re a rebel.” She giggles.
“And you’re drunk.”
She pats my cheek. “Don’t worry. I can still fight. I won’t even need this.” She raises her shirt a bit to show the butt of a gun sticking out of the top of the leather miniskirt she’s got on over skinny jeans.
Involving Lin is starting to look like a really bad idea when
we come around the side of The Dance, and a ragged moan shivers through the air. My eyes widen—usually trysts keep to the inside of the building—and my gaze drops from the couple making out against the wall, giving them privacy, but not before the image imprints itself on the back of my eyelids. A guy with his back to us, pressed up against a femme who’s against the wall with her legs wrapped around his waist. My quick glance in the dark is not enough to tell tribe, just that he’s kissing her neck or her ear.
But Lin doesn’t move. “Lawson?”
I look again, just as he turns his head. Our eyes meet, and for a second I stand rooted in place as my stomach tries to fall out of me.
“Ai,” Lawson says.
My nickname, spoken in his voice, cuts through the shock. I whirl and stride back the way I came. Okay, so maybe I jog. It’s all I can do not to run. My injuries don’t even twinge. Of all the ugly human emotions, jealousy is worst, like claws rending me from the inside out.
You told him to move on.
Why, why, why did I do that? I can’t bear this. I can’t. I—
You know, he might be doing this anyway.
My steps falter, then speed faster. It’s true, and I feel even sicker. Just since we met, I’ve seen him with several people. There’s nothing to suggest that he’s monogamous. This should make me feel better, but it has the opposite effect.
I’ve never seen him with a femme before, though. That doesn’t mean he’s never been with one, but—
Running steps behind me.
No, no, no.
An arm around my waist. Let it be an A. Punch me in the face, anything but this.
“I didn’t do that to get to you. I didn’t mean for you to see it,” Lawson says, pulling me to a stop.
So that’s why they were outside. He’s fever-hot against my back. I can’t quite make myself pull away.
“I just wanted you to know that,” he says, retreating when I don’t speak, cool night air replacing heat. “I’m not trying to manipulate you.”
Somehow, I manage to move my head, to nod. “N-no, this is best. This is what I w-wanted.”
“Okay, then.” A pause, then his steps crunch away down the alley. He stops and calls back to me, “You’re, um, you’re still…celibate, right?”
I nod again.
“Good, cause, I think…right. I really don’t think…” He’s moving closer again. “If it were you, I think I might kill—not literally. Forgot who I’m talking to. Jeeze. Them, not you, but not literally.”
From the tremor in his voice, I think maybe he does mean it literally. Therein lies the ugliness of jealousy. So why do my insides suddenly feel all cozy and fizzy?
“I don’t mean that,” he says, right behind me now. “You should do what you want. I’m not threatening you. That’s not what I’m trying to do.”
I turn to face him. “I know, thanks, but yes, I am celibate. I don’t think I could, anyway, with anybody else—”
His lips on mine cut me off.
There’s no gentleness to this kiss. His mouth threatens to tear open my split lip, while his callused fingertips map my cheeks, forehead, chin, raising goosebumps on my skin. He backs me up against one of the brick walls lining the alley, and I grasp his belt loops to keep my hands from wandering to his face. I don’t want to press against the bruises there, even though I sense he wouldn’t mind, might not even notice.
“I tried,” he gasps against my cheek, when we have to break apart for air. “I tried, but I couldn’t either.” His mouth finds mine again.
I stop him with a hand on his chest. “Seems like you were doing just fine to me.”
He collapses against the wall beside me, breaths ragged. “Just going through the motions.”
“I can’t, right after—” I gesture back the way we came. “—I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” His mouth twists. “I’m really going to kick myself for that if this is the last chance I ever get to touch you.”
“Well, if it hadn’t been for that, the kiss wouldn’t have even happened, so be grateful instead.”
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “I notice you didn’t say it won’t be my last chance.”
My ribs contract, and that’s almost enough to have me all over him again, but I can’t erase the image of the femme grinding up on him. I wipe my mouth on the back of my hand, only realizing what I’ve done when Lawson folds his arms over his sternum and asks, “Can I walk you back?”
“Better not.” I grimace. “I can’t be seen with you.”
“I’m not worth it?”
“It’s not that. It’s…I have nowhere else to go.”
We walk side-by-side. After a bit he says, “You could be one of us, you know.”
“Come on, be serious. Can you see me as a Real Dealer?”
“I can see you loving one.”
I do, I did.
“I can’t,” I say.