“To whom?” I counter. But it’s not done angrily. “Jonah, there was a vote. Eighty-seven percent voted that the atoll needs to go.” Me included, before I knew I was the one who had to go out and do it.
It’s not that I’m fundamentally opposed to the mission. It’s just, it might’ve been nice to have some experience beforehand. Classes. The apprenticeship. Anything.
“What can I do for you?” His nose swipes my chin line and I melt into the couch.
“Just be yourself,” I tell him. Because it’s true. Him being him, being here with me, is pretty darn great. “Just be here for me.”
I can feel his smile against my cheek. “Always.”
Just because we have two addresses doesn’t mean we sleep in separate beds. This is both a good and a bad thing. On one hand, I love having Jonah be both the first and last thing I see every day. On the other, it’s awfully hard to be a good girl when there is a totally sexy guy next to you in only pajama pants, or, on hot nights, boxers, and you can’t do anything about said sexiness.
See, yet another thing my father informed Jonah during that infamous “chat” was that he expected me to remain a virgin until we got married.
Yes, he said that. My father actually talked to my Connection about my virginity.
I nearly died when Jonah admitted this part. My father thinking he could dictate whether or not I, a legal adult, could have sex? It was so excruciatingly appalling and stereotypical that it was a wonder he didn’t dredge up a wife beater and a shotgun for the delivery.
So, yeah. Jonah and I haven’t had sex yet, even though we’re engaged to be married within a year. Because Jonah is the standup kind of guy who respects fathers and their wishes, even if they are humiliating and unreasonable. Thank goodness we can get away with everything else.
“Stop,” he whispers into my ear. He’s on the verge of sleep, but even now, is just as attuned to my feelings as he is when he is wide awake. “I can’t sleep if you’re like this.”
I don’t bother with shame. Jonah knows my view on sex. And a girl can only handle so much temptation without cracking occasionally. “I must be the only girlfriend who has to apologize for wanting to make out with her boyfriend.”
Wide awake now, he groans and chuckles at the same time. “You don’t think this is hard for me, too?”
“Remind me why you offered my father such a ridiculous promise?”
He turns to his side so we’re face to face. “Obviously, because I’m a masochistic idiot.”
I press several lingering kisses down his jaw and onto his neck. “Obviously.” He laughs quietly under his breath at the same time as his hands curve around my hips. Little streaks of lightning zing through my body at this touch. “You know, promises are meant to be broken.”
“Some,” he whispers, and his hands drift upwards just enough that my mind is on the verge of scattering entirely. “But some, like how I’m going to love you my entire existence, never will be.”
I’m going to need a cold shower before I fall asleep, that’s for sure.
“This is ridiculous!”
A notebook slaps down against the table, along with a chewed pen, nearly knocking over my iced tea. My distant cousin and closest friend, Cora Carregreen, slides down in her chair, her magenta dipped hair drooping just as surely as her good mood. She issues a long suffering sigh and a masterful example of the evil eye my way.
As to why, it’s a no-brainer. “Like I asked for a shortened school load,” I offer, setting aside the snack I’d been enjoying. It’s a true testament of Jonah’s influence on me when my face remains passive.
Elegant hands are thrown into the air. It still weirds me out a bit to think how those same hands can heal a person and unleash devastating diseases within seconds of one another. “Whatever. It’s just, classes are kicking my butt, and here I am, struggling to figure out the proper proportions of virus production in relation to population zones, and you’re sipping iced tea like you haven’t got a care in the worlds.” She looks me over. “Or classwork that’s due.”
I’ve been allowed a single class this semester by the Council, since any load heavier might possibly “distract” me from my work duties. And rather than be something useful, like Cora’s class in which she’s learning how to properly utilize her craft in the field, mine is basically a pointless study hall since I’m not really given topics to study, even if independently. Occasionally the professor, a fifth tier Council member and thereby, ironically, below me in chain of command, will encourage me to write up summaries of my missions. I’d asked him if I ought to talk about the implications of said assignments, but he’d shrugged, murmuring, “It’s up to you.”