Page 12 of The Order

“I don’t think he would go down as easily as the woman.” My words come out with no given thought behind them.

“Why is that?”

It doesn't take a fortune teller to tell that Max was upset by that comment.

“You know … he’s … big.” I finally say, raising my shoulders to mimic the Unfortunate's towering walk.

Max frowns, rolling his eyes. As we make our way further into the Academy, the walls shift from their muted, dull gray to the lively colors and drawings of the art wing. Despite being outside of regulation, the art teachers had convinced the school board to allow one hallway to be filled with color. Each year, the 5th and 6th years get to work on a mural for one of the walls. Right now, we’re creating concept paintings for what will replace the current wall art. Most people tend to take a more symbolic approach to their drawings. Depictions of the war are all symbolized by a single daisy breaking through the rubble and ash. For years, there was only vegetation made by man. That is, until the flowers began to bloom. Miles of daisies marked the Earth, creating the first sign of hope after all the destruction. There isn't a part of New Haven that doesn't have the tiny, white flowers planted somewhere.

“I know for a fact he wouldn’t have that cocky attitude if he were pitted against me,” Max clarifies, leaning his body into someone's mural from a few years back.

“And you aren't radiating a cocky attitude right now?” I question with a smirk.

“It almost sounds like you’re defending him, Blackburn,” Max says sarcastically.

I roll my eyes, nudging him as a playful grin spreads across my face. His casual lean into the wall falters at the gesture, making his hold on himself slip with a slide of his hand. Grabbing him, I stop him from trying to recover his position on the wall. His hands grip my sides, a grin now consuming his face too. The warmth of his palms presses through my shirt. Blonde hair falls into his face like a curtain covering a window. He stays still, keeping his hands on me while my hands work to fix his tie.

“I would never defend one of them, but, honestly, I would love to see what would happen if Josh tried to mess with him.”

I lay his tie flat on his chest, expecting his hands to leave my sides.

They never do.

Once more, my birthmark begins to burn, making me wince with narrowed eyes. I stare into Max’s eyes, trying to feed into whatever is happening between us right now. My stomach rolls in ways that only happen after I have had too many sweets. Forcing the feeling down, I finally address the elephant in the room.

“Your class is nowhere near this one.”

Max draws a deep breath, glancing around while he decides what to say. He furrows his brows like his sister, a telltale sign that he’s deep in thought.

“I might’ve been a little jealous of your focus on a certain Unfortunate earlier,” Max says, shaking his head. “I know it's ridiculous-”

I don’t let him finish his statement. Slowly, I drag his head down by his neck and silence his thoughts with a gentle press of my lips to his. His touch grows tighter on my sides before relaxing. His soft lips stay on mine, gently pressing down harder with each passing second. I ready my head to move away, feeling my stomach churn, followed by an unsettling feeling.

Iwantto feel pleasure in this touch. Why can't I?

His hands move to hold the sides of my face, pulling me back into the kiss. My birthmark continues to burn, only growing more painful the longer I allow Max to touch me. With a deep breath Max pulls away from me, letting his hand linger on my own before lowering his touch away from me.

“You've never done that. Why did you do that?” he questions, his cheeks red.

I wish I had an answer for him.

“I’m honestly not sure,” I begin, glancing at his watch as we finally notice the time. “But we can deep dive into it later.”

I pull away, but Max’s hand grabs my wrist, stopping me dead in my tracks. Both of our faces are red from the exchange.

“Did you regret that?” he questions.

Lie.

I shake my head no, wanting nothing more than for him to let go so I can escape this awkward situation. The pain in my mark dies down the longer I’m away from his touch. I know I need to address the pain with my mom again, but she shuts down every time I speak to her about it, dismissing my questions.

This newfound pain may be better left to the unknown.

“I'll see you at lunch, Blackburn,” Max settles on saying.

With a broad grasp, I hug him, easing his anxieties about whether he did the right thing by kissing me back. With a quick motion, I plant one more kiss on his cheek before turning away, smiling at the look of satisfaction plastered across his face.

I force my back into the classroom door, spilling into the bright space with a loud sigh. Mrs. Auburn's eyes shoot up from her focused position at the drawing on her desk, relaxing only once she notices who’s entered her space. Her red, curly hair is wound in a mound atop her head, housing multiple pencils just waiting to fall away. Her maroon blazer is decorated in pins, all outside of regulation for her uniform but somehow acceptable given her job here. Her face is smudged with graphite, traveling down her cheeks and the sides of her hands, stopping at the ends of each fingertip. Her green eyes pass over my own, narrowing the longer she watches me.

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