Proper.
“I heard your fight with Stef.” My voice trembled with effort to speak softly. “The night of the masquerade, after you were arrested, Li kept saying things like that. She insisted the way we danced was inappropriate. Then Deborl said it that day outside the temple. People have said it in the market field. Have you been hearing it from friends, too?”
“Everyone has opinions.”
“And why should we mind? Have I given you a reason to believe I care if other people think our relationship is inappropriate?”
“I’m glad you’re not worried what they think.” He closed his eyes, expression drawn as though he’d rather be having any conversation but this one. “But have you considered that despite how you feel, this might truly be inappropriate?”
My mouth fell open.
“Stef had a point. I’m old, Ana.” He shoved himself to his feet, all fire and passion. “It doesn’t matter what I look like. The truth is that I have done so many things in other lifetimes. I don’t mean composing symphonies or exploring the world beyond Range. I mean intimate two-people-alone things.”
Pieces of me were unraveling. Was he trying to hurt me?
“I hate that.” My heart thundered. I’d just wanted to be near him while we slept, and suddenly everything spun out of control, all my unspoken fears and insecurities so bright and blinding. “Every time you remind me how much older and more experienced you are—I hate that. You think I don’t know?”
“I think you don’t care.”
“Well, I don’t.” I was a liar. I did care, but not nearly as much as I did other times. “I want things—whatever kind of things—to go normally. Whenever they’re supposed to happen, that’s when I want them to happen.”
His face was stone. “That’s the problem. Normally both parties know all the details. They have the experience, even if it’s not with each other. This relationship is different. There’s nothing normal about it. How am I supposed to know how far to go with you? How am I supposed to know when you’re ready, and for what? I want to be honorable and do the right thing, but I don’t know what that is.”
“You could let me decide.” I crossed my arms. “Aren’t both people supposed to have a vote in a relationship?”
He shifted his weight, myriad expressions crossing his face before he settled back to the same stone as before. “Do you know what you’d be deciding?”
Caught. My face ached with scowling. “I’m an adult, Sam. Nearly four years past my first quindec. You said that just last night.”
He towered over me, body tense and voice sharp. “Really, Ana.”
I resisted the urge to back away. “Like many things I had to figure out on my own, the books I had access to didn’t specify how to do certain activities.”
“So you don’t know. You can’t make an informed decision like that.”
“You could tell me.”
He massaged his forehead. “I can’t even imagine how strange it would be for you to hear about it. Even thinking about how I’d explain it makes the whole thing seem a lot less fun. It might even sound scary.”
“No, that isn’t what I meant.” I shook my head. “I meant showing me with—with you. Like you promised the night of the masquerade.” He’d said he had a thousand things to show me, places he’d kiss me or touch me. My whole body ached with anticipation under his hands, and I’d thought he felt the same way. I said more softly, “Don’t you want to?”
“Yes.” He sounded raw. “Yes, but I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
“Your stupid honor is going to make me crazy. As far as I can tell, Sam, we’re going to spend the rest of our potentially short lives not doing anything more than kissing.”
He looked uncertain. A crack in the stone. “You could ask Sarit?”
How could he be so clueless? “You’re missing the point.”
He waited.
“I should be able to count on you, but you’re telling me I can’t.”
“Ana—”
“No. I understand this whole thing is weird. You don’t know how to reconcile what has always been acceptable and what you feel is honorable in this case. I’ve always admired your need to do the right thing, so I appreciate it. Really.”
He didn’t look convinced, and it was hard to believe that less than a day ago, we’d been standing here by the piano, surrounded by roses, kissing, his hands up the back of my shirt….
“We may not be able to decide whether our relationship is or isn’t appropriate. We have emotions invested.” I struggled to steady my voice. “But we can decide if we care about appropriateness. If you don’t care, then we’ll decide together what we do.”
His voice was rough. “And if I do care?”
“Then I suppose nothing will ever change.” Or everything would. “I don’t want to be sixty and still unenlightened about these matters.”