Even in his feverish passion, Day is gentle with me. It is a different gentleness from what I’ve felt around Anden, who is refinement and properness and elegance. Day is coarse, open, uncertain, and pure. When I look at him, I notice the subtle smile playing at the edges of his mouth, the smallest hint of mischief that only strengthens my desire for him. He nuzzles my neck; his touch sends shivers dancing along my spine. Day sighs in relief against my ear in a way that makes my heart pound, a sigh of freeing himself from all of the dark emotions that plague him. I fall into another kiss, running my hands through his hair, letting him know that I’m okay. He gradually relaxes. I suck in my breath as he moves against me; his eyes are so bright that I feel like I could drown in them. He kisses my cheeks, tucking a strand of my hair carefully behind my ear as he goes, and I slide my arms around his back and pull him closer.
No matter what happens in the future, no matter where our paths take us, this moment will be ours.
Afterward, we stay quiet. Day lies beside me with blankets covering part of his legs, his eyes closed in a drowsy half sleep, his hand still entwined with mine as if for reassurance. I look around us. The blankets hang precariously off the corner of the bed. The sheets have wrinkles that radiate out, looking like a dozen little suns and their rays. There are deep indents in my pillow. Broken glass and flower petals litter the floor. I hadn’t even noticed that we’d knocked a vase off my dresser, hadn’t heard the sound of it shattering against the cherrywood planks. My eyes go back to Day. His face looks so peaceful now, free of pain in the dim glow of night. Even naïve. His mouth is no longer open, his brows no longer scrunched together. He’s not trembling anymore. Loose hair frames his face, a few strands catching the city’s lights from outside. I inch forward, run my hand along the muscles of his arm, and touch my lips to his cheek.
His eyes open; they blink at me sleepily. He stares at me for a long moment. I wonder what he sees, and whether all of the pain and joy and fear he had confessed earlier is still there, forever haunting him. He leans over to give me the gentlest, most delicate kiss. His lips linger, afraid to leave. I don’t want to leave either. I don’t want to think about waking up. When I pull him close to me again, he obliges, aching for more. And all I can think about is that I’m grateful for his silence, for not telling me that I am joining us together when I should be letting him go.
IT’S NOT LIKE I HAVEN’T HAD MY SHARE OF MOMENTS WITH girls. I had my first kiss when I was twelve, when I locked lips with a sixteen-year-old girl in exchange for her not ratting me out to the street police. I’ve fooled around with a handful of girls in the slum sectors and a few from wealthy sectors—there was even one gem sector, high school freshman who I’d had a couple days’ romance with back when I was fourteen. She was cute, with pixie-short, light brown hair and flawless olive skin, and we’d sneak off every afternoon to the basement of her school and, well, have a little fun. Long story.
But . . . June.
My heart’s been torn wide open, just like I feared it would be, and I have no willpower to close it back up. Any barrier I might’ve succeeded in putting up around myself, any resistance I might’ve built up against my feelings for her, is now completely gone. Shattered. In the dim blue light of night, I reach out and run one hand along the curve of June’s body. My breathing is still shallow. I don’t want to be the first to say something. My chest is pressed gently against her back and my arm’s resting comfortably around her waist; her hair drapes over her neck in a dark, glossy rope. I bury my face against her smooth skin. A million thoughts pour through my head, but like her, I stay silent.
There’s simply nothing to say.
* * *
I jolt awake in bed, gasping. I can barely breathe—my lungs heave in an attempt to suck in air. I look around frantically. Where am I?
I’m in June’s bed.
It was a nightmare, just a nightmare, and the Lake sector alley and street and blood are gone. I lie there a moment, trying quietly to catch my breath and slow the pounding of my heart. I’m completely drenched in sweat. I glance over at June. She’s lying on her side and facing me, her body still rising and falling in a gentle, steady rhythm. Good. I didn’t wake her. I hurriedly wipe tears from my face with the palm of my uninjured hand. Then I lie there for a few minutes, still trembling. When it’s obvious that I’m not going to be able to fall back asleep, I slowly sit up in bed and crouch with my arms against my knees. I bow my head. My lashes brush against the skin of my arm. I feel so weak, like I just finished climbing up a thirty-story building.
This was easily the worst nightmare I’ve had yet. I’m even terrified to blink for too long, in case I have to revisit the images that danced under my eyelids. I look around the room. My vision blurs again; I angrily wipe the fresh tears away. What time is it? It’s still pitch-black outside, with only the faint glow from distant JumboTrons and streetlights filtering into the room. I glance toward June, watching how the dim lights from outside splash color across her silhouette. This time, I don’t reach out and touch her.
I don’t know how long I sit there crouched like that, taking in one deep lungful of air after another until my breathing finally steadies. It’s long enough for the sweat beading my entire body to dry. My eyes wander to the room’s balcony. I stare at it for a while, unable to look away, and then I gingerly slide out of bed without a sound and slip into my shirt, trousers, and boots. I twist my hair up into a tight knot, then fit a cap snugly over it. June stirs a little. I stop moving. When she settles back down, I finish buttoning my shirt and walk over to the glass balcony doors. In the corner of the bedroom, June’s dog gives me a curious tilt of his head. But he doesn’t make a sound. I say a silent thanks in my head, then open the balcony doors. They swing open, then close behind me without a click.