The Love Interest

“That it is.” He stretches his arms out in front of him. “Do you want to practice with the Bolt Gloves again? I could wear some sort of chest armor and then you could actually attack me.”


I look down at my right hand. Wrapped around it is a glove made of wires. The pads are electric blue. I bring my hand up to my face and turn my wrist slowly, marveling at Juliet’s creation.

“It’s probably too late now. I’ve learned as much as I can, and there’s no point tiring myself out for peace of mind.”

“Let’s hope you’re right.” He leans forward and picks up a long stick. He pokes the ashy remnants of last night’s fire. A log tips over, sending up a spray of tiny orange sparks. “I miss what we used to have.”

I tilt my head to the side and narrow my eyes. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “It was nice, you know, when we were friends, or whatever our relationship was. When I could come to your window late at night and hang out. I liked those times, well, a lot more than I like these. Don’t you feel the same?”

I shake my head. “Not really. Dyl, I’ve spent my whole life pretending to be someone I’m not. It’s only now that I can actually say what I think and what I feel. Do you not know how important that is to me? Those nights with you were the best nights of my life, but they weren’t real. So I prefer now.”

He meets my eyes. His stare is almost desperate. “Please don’t die tonight, Caden. Please.”

“I won’t.”

I turn my attention back to the fire. “You know,” I say, “if this all goes well, you could become a paramedic after all. If you still want to, that is.”

He drops the stick he was holding and looks at me. “I didn’t think you would remember that.”

“Well, I do.”

“I …”

We hear the sound of a tent being unzipped. Dyl shuts his mouth and I straighten my posture. It’s Juliet. Her hair is puffy and frizzy, and her nose is pink. She climbs out of the tent.

“So here are my boys,” she says as she stands. “My two boys. You have no idea how proud I am of both of you.”

I can’t think of anything to say, so I stare down at the fire. She walks past us and heads toward the forest.

“She deserves better,” says Dyl. “Than us.”

I watch her as she walks away in her awkward, lopsided gait. “She sure does.”

“Morning,” calls Trevor. His face is poking out of the tent, and he is smiling a dopey smile. I can see his bare, muscular shoulders. Natalie’s long, thin arm wraps around his neck. She places a soft kiss on his cheek.

He turns and kisses her back, then climbs out of the tent.

“Is Juliet pissing?” he asks as he pushes down his spiky hair. “’Cause I need to go.”

As he says it, Juliet reemerges from the tree line. Trev grins and walks toward her, his massive hands undoing his belt. Natalie moves forward and crouches beside me.

“You know you don’t have to be with Trev anymore,” I say. “If you don’t want to.”

She sits down. “I can’t go through this without him. Once this is all over, we’ll see where things stand, but for now, we need to be together. I can’t do this alone.”

She notices the Bolt Glove and raises an eyebrow. “You’re wearing it already?”

I nod. “I’m trying to get as familiar with it as possible. If Craike or a Stalker or anyone notices it before I take my wool glove off, then they’ll win and I’ll be incinerated. Everything depends on me getting inside wearing the glove without them noticing. I—”

“The sun’s going down,” interrupts Dyl. “And just so you know, that rule was dumb. We don’t actually have to do this right now if you don’t feel up for it, Caden.”

I love the way he says my name. CaYYYden. He says it in a way only he can.

I shake my head and stand. “No, the reason we set it is that we’d always postpone if we could. We’ll never feel one hundred percent ready. So let’s do it. Juliet, are you ready to go?”

She shakes her head. “I need to get changed. And so do you, unless you want to stick it to the man in the shirt you slept in. Everyone, get ready and then we’ll leave in five.”

Dyl and I head toward our tent. It used to be mine, and Dyl spent half a night sleeping outside. Then I caved and let him share, so now it’s ours. We both pause in front of the doorway.

“You first,” he says. “I’ll keep watch.”

“Fine.”

I step inside and reach my pile of clothes. The tent flap rustles.

Dyl is standing there.

I gulp down a breath. “What are you doing?”

He steps forward. “Just this.”

He grabs my wrists and lowers them so they hang beside my hips. Then he steps close, so his chest is almost touching mine, and he turns his head and closes his eyes. His lips press against mine. They linger there for one, two, three seconds. He closes his lips, then he pulls away. I open my eyes. When did I close them? His forehead is pressing against my forehead, and his hands are holding mine.

We stand there for a moment, just breathing.

He pulls back an inch. This close, his eyes truly are spectacular. They’re green, sure, but they’re also speckled with all these different shades: some light, like grass, others almost black.

I bite my lip. “What was that?”

He bends down and picks up a shirt and a jacket. “No incentive,” he says as he shrugs off his old shirt. He pulls the fresh T-shirt over his head. Then he wraps the jacket, a dark one that seems to be made primarily of pockets, around his lithe body. It’s a size too big and hangs off him, yet he somehow makes it look cool. “I had no incentive, Caden. None at all.”

He lifts the flap of the tent and walks outside.

That’s why I’m doing this. Is it worth it?

Hell yes.

I take off my old shirt, then pull on a clean gray T-shirt and put on my plaid jacket. I’m grinning. He likes me he likes me he likes me. It’s real. I’m not a foolish child chasing something I can never have. What I felt was real.

Now I need to save it. All I have to do is take down a centuries-old organization that’s armed with the most sophisticated killing machines on the planet. I run my fingers through my hair, spiking it up, then step out of the tent.

They don’t stand a chance.

Outside, everyone else is ready. Trevor’s wearing a brown leather jacket and designer jeans. Natalie’s wearing skintight black pants and an oversized pink sweater. Juliet’s wearing skinny jeans and a royal-blue coat fastened all the way up to her neck. They don’t look like rebels; they look like an average group of kids.

Juliet heads toward the car and gets in the driver’s seat. I let Natalie, Trevor, and Dyl clamber into the back, and then I climb in.

I pull on my seat belt. “It’s funny, I’m about to go into a scenario where death is highly likely, and I still have to buckle in.”

Juliet turns on the engine. “That’s a good thing. It means you’re not an idiot. Have you ever seen the stats? There are so many deaths every year that could’ve been prevented if they’d been wearing a seat belt.” She plants her foot on the accelerator and the car moves forward.

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