Entanglement (YA Dystopian Romance) (13 page)

Aaron
cocked his eyebrow. “Would it kill you to be polite for once?” he said.

“Polite
to
you?
Maybe if you weren’t about to blow me off . . . ” She gave up and
sighed, “
Whatever
.” Then raised her voice. “Buff! Aaron’s being a
butthead.”

Unable
to resist, Aaron gave into the urge and tousled her hair—and was stunned how
soft it felt.

“I
thought you weren’t touching me?” she said, smoothing her hair back again.

“I
shouldn’t be,” said Aaron. “But you’re . . . ” he trailed off, not sure what he’d
been about to say.

Amber
stepped close to him. Kissing distance. “But what?” she said, “But I’m getting
hard to resist?”

Aaron
studied her face, the mischievous glint that lit up her eyes—concealing
everything behind them that was dark. “I think I can manage to keep my hands
off you for five days,” he said.

Her
piercing green eyes held him captive. “What about a lifetime?”

***

After
Amber slipped into a jean skirt, she and Aaron walked across the sunbaked
asphalt toward his Mazda. She held his shirt hostage.

When
they reached the car, Amber faced him. “Did you have fun today?” she said.

Aaron
held open the passenger door for her.

She
didn’t budge. “Did you?”

“If
I was bored I would have told you,” he said.

“What
kind of answer is that?”

“I
did.”

She
cocked her head. “Did what?”

“I
did have fun.” But even before the words left his mouth, a lump formed in his
throat.

Amber’s
golden hair shimmered in the sun and blew across her cheek. “Me too,” she said,
and she climbed into the car.

Once
inside, Aaron pulled off the panel under his steering wheel and dug through the
wires. His fingers trembled.

“Are
you stealing this car?” she said.

Aaron
pressed the wires together and jerked his thumb away as they burnt him. His car
rumbled to life. “It’s my car,” he said.

“But
you stole it?”

“I
lost the keys.”

“Uh-huh,”
she said, eying the wires doubtfully.

Aaron
revved the engine, yanked the wheel, and they flew out of the parking lot. He
was aware of Amber’s gaze on the side of his face.

“Why
didn’t you steal a nicer car?” she said.

“I
didn’t steal it,” he said.

She
wrinkled her nose. “This one smells.”

For
the next few minutes he followed her directions up Mission Ridge, past glinting
red convertibles and glass mansions. The ocean glittered through the palm
trees.

But
he hardly noticed. He focused on Amber, radiating heat right next to him, just
as tense as he was. Her warm scent floated through the car, and the thought of
saying goodbye to her was unbearable.

Aaron
spun the wheel, shifted into second, and carved around a switchback.

Below
them, the green valley shimmered under waves of heat, and the sun’s reflection
winked off hundreds of tiny cars. Up here, the mansions were even bigger.

 “This
is my house,” said Amber, pointing to a Mediterranean-style palace.

Aaron
parked in front of a blue Corvette on Loma Sierra Drive. He unwound the
ignition wires and his car shuddered to a stop.

The
moment the AC quit, a yellow heat flashed through the car and the sun blazed
their skin. For half a minute, neither of them spoke.

Because
now that it was silent, now that they were alone—

Aaron
faced her and slid off his sunglasses. She fidgeted with one of the laces on
her bathing suit top.

“So
I guess this is it then,” he said.

“No
duh,” she said. “You’re horrible at goodbyes . . . and you’re not getting a steamy
goodbye kiss if that’s what you’re fantasizing about.”

“I
think that would be inappropriate,” he said.

“You’re
worried about your half, aren’t you?” she said, her tone daring, and he hated
the way she referred to his half like she didn’t expect it to be her, didn’t
even
want
it to be her.

“It’s
complicated,” he said, facing forward again, his mind in turmoil. It was true;
their involvement with each other this close to their birthdays could damage
both of them. Like underage sex, enough emotion for the wrong person right now
could drain clairvoyance from their channels, never to be replaced. Not a lot,
but enough to notice, and they would feel what was missing the second they laid
eyes on their halves.

A
thick, sticky heat smothered the inside of the car. Amber shifted in her seat.
“Do you ever get scared?” she said.

“I’m
scared right now,” he said.

“I’m
not.” Her green eyes sparkled. “You make me forget.”

“Stop
it,” he said.

“What
if this is all we ever get?”

“This
is not all you get,” he said. “You get to spend your entire life—”

“With
the wrong person,” she said, finishing his sentence. “Do you want to meet my
parents and see for yourself?”

“Amber,
you don’t have to be like them,” he said. “You’re not Clive’s half; halves love
each other. That’s the only thing that’s real.”

“And
what’s this?” she said.

“It’s
fake.”

At
first she didn’t move, but then she clicked open the door and stepped onto the
curb. “Then maybe I was just being naïve,” she said, her voice flat. The door
latched behind her.

It
was done.

Aaron
took a deep breath and tried to connect his ignition wires. They sparked, but
he couldn’t hold them together.

Something
felt wrong. He and Amber turned eighteen in five days. Halves or not, they both
knew the danger of falling for each other. The decision to wait should have
been easy, an obvious precaution. Anyone would have done the same in their
shoes.

Instead,
she acted exactly how he felt—as if these five days were her last. Ever. She
acted like she didn’t want to say goodbye. He didn’t want to say goodbye,
either. Because in five days, his own connection to his half
would be
uncertain, unlikely even. It might not even exist.

But
Amber was real now.

Aaron
kicked open his door. He caught her halfway up the broad, terra cotta steps
leading to her front door and grabbed her by the hand.

“We
don’t have to end this—” he said, pausing to catch his breath, “if you still
want to do this.”

“I
changed my mind.”

“No
you didn’t.” He pulled Amber closer, and her hair loosened and gathered over
her eyes. The ocean reflected in her irises like glitter.

Suddenly
his sprint up the stairs caught up with him. He tried to catch his breath but
couldn’t, or was it
her
, the heat emanating from every inch of her bare
skin? Because he felt dizzy just looking at her.

And
then he did it.

On
impulse, while his brain was infuriatingly absent, he did the very worst thing
he could have done. He kissed her.

The
kiss surprised her at first, but then she sank into him, and he felt her
fingernails digging into his back, squeezing him even closer. In his arms, her
body felt naked and hauntingly appealing. Around them, the horizon’s silver
haze swirled endlessly. They were weightless. And Aaron realized his nerves had
been frozen up until now, numb, asleep for his whole life.

Waiting
for her.

He
pulled away slowly, and the citrusy, salty taste of her lips lingered
pleasantly in his mouth. But before he could speak, movement in one of the
windows drew his gaze. “Are your parents home?” he said.

“Are
you hoping they saw?” she said, goose bumps spreading down her forearms.

“They’re
inside, aren’t they?”

“I
don’t actually want you to meet them.”

Aaron
tried to read her expression, but she was closed off once again, guarded.
“Amber,” he said, “is it a bad idea for me to keep seeing you? Will I end up
hurting you?”

She
stared at him, biting her lip, but said nothing.

“But
you want me to anyway?” he said.

Slowly,
she nodded.

And
she looked very different than the girl he had met at the bonfire—disturbed,
more dangerous. Involved in things she shouldn’t be. Instinct told him this was
wrong.

He
should have let her go.

***

But
the feeling passed quickly, like a wave of vertigo. Maybe he was still unsteady
from the kiss. Yeah, that was it.

He
and Amber climbed the rest of way to the front door. A sea breeze followed them
through a marble archway, and into her house through two glass-inlaid mahogany
doors.

Inside,
the peach colored carpet was spotless. Someone had even vacuumed it in perfect
rows, like farmland. The scent of lavender and orange soap wafted over them.

Aaron
knelt to unlace his shoes, but Amber yanked him back up. She pressed her finger
to her lips, then hurried him past a living room, where her dad was watching
television.

Aaron
strained his neck to get a look at the man’s face. But all he saw was gray
hair, cut military style—before he tripped on a staircase and slammed his knee
into the riser, rattling the whole flight.

Amber
shot him a furious look and dragged him up the stairs and out of view just as
her dad turned around. Upstairs, her bedroom had a balcony and a view of the
islands.

“Sorry,
it’s a mess,” she said, shutting the door quietly.

“Amber!”
her dad yelled from downstairs.

“Fine
Dad!” Amber rolled her eyes. “He wants me to leave the door open.” She kept it
closed, though.

Aaron
narrowed his eyes. “Am I in danger?”

“Only
if you do that again,” she said.

“And
then what?”

“He’ll
get his rifle.”

Amber
circled her room, tossing laundry into the closet. Meanwhile Aaron reclined on
her bed next to a powder-white teddy bear the size of real bear. His body sank
into the turquoise down comforter, and his elbow struck an object. An open
shoebox, doodled with hearts. He looked closer . . . letters.

Amber
saw the shoebox and snatched it up. Blushing, she shoved it out of view.

“What
are those?” said Aaron.

“Love
letters.”

“From
wh—?” But before he could finish the question, an odd stiffness gripped his
chest. “Oh.” He sat forward, kneading his palms. “Never mind.”

“Well
since you’re
jealous
,” said Amber, plopping down next to him, “they’re
letters my great-grandparents wrote each other.” She slid closer to him, and he
felt his breath stop in his throat.

“You
still have their letters?” he said, sounding more relieved than he should have.

“I’m
weird. I know,” she said.

“How
old were they?”

“Our
age. It was right before everything changed.”

He
understood what she meant. “So they weren’t halves.”

Amber
nodded. “Don’t you think it’s scary that everyone from before the discovery is
dead?” she said. “I guess that’s why we’re special . . . the
fourth
generation
and all that. Because there’s no one left who
remembers
.”

“You
mean what it was like?”

“What
true love is.”

Aaron
felt a chill. “Is that why you keep their letters?”

She
glanced up. “I want to know what it’s like to have a choice.” Over her head,
dust swirled through shafts of sunlight, blazing like flecks of magnesium. “You’re
the only boy I’ve ever kissed like that. Are you proud of yourself?”

“No.
Now I’m never going to get you out of my head.”

Up
close, her eyes appeared layered, freckled like jade crystals. “I wish I had
more than five days to know you, Aaron.”

“How
do you know you don’t?” he said.

She
leaned forward to kiss him. “Stop asking questions you don’t want to know the
answer to,” she said. “Let’s just make it count.”

At
that moment, the door banged open, and Amber jumped away from him. Her father
stood in the doorway.

“
Son
—”
His gray eyes flashed between them. “I expect your folks are having dinner
soon. It’s best you headed home.”

Aaron
walked downstairs in front of Mr. Lilian, still drunk off the man’s daughter,
euphoric.

The
TV in the living room showed a televised political speech of some sort. Aaron
was almost at the door when he recognized the politician on the screen—and his
scalp tingled.

It
was Dr. Casler Selavio, towering over an audience of reporters and flashing his
dazzling rows of teeth for the cameras.