Page 77 of The Order

“I know what you just told me,” I whisper back, now feeling the alcohol drown out any sense of rational thinking. “I don’t care,” I say, feeling his grasp tighten around my waist at my words.

He peers down at me, letting his head hang lower as his nose touches mine. I smell the alcohol mixing on our breath. Both of our hearts beat rapidly.

“I was supposed to stop finding reasons to come to this sector,” he whispers, looking over my lips like I had his earlier.

What the hell am I doing? Why does it feel so… right? I’m going against everything I’m supposed to believe and doing it with a smile.

He shakes his head, pulling away his trance on my lips as he looks up at the night sky.

“Dove. I’ll call you Dove,” he says, smiling at me.

“Why?” I question, feeling my legs fumble as he finally raises me all the way up, holding me off the ground as my arms wrap around him tighter.

“Well, you see, Forest,” he says with a smile. “You’re the first real symbol of hope I’ve seen in this society in a long time,” he whispers, letting our noses touch once more before lowering me back down.

He takes several steps back. His cheeks flush with the same red that coats mine.

“Your hoodie looks dry,” he says, pointing to the clothing while pulling up his mask.

I glance at the material, looking back at him with confusion as his hands rifle through his filled pockets. I watch him yank something away, holding a small charm on a chain, waiting for my hand to place it down. I feel its metal touch my palm, resting gently in my hand. His eyes soften, watching the confusion spreading across my face.

“Something to remember me by once that alcohol wears off,” he says, stepping closer and reaching around my neck. The necklace drapes across my chest as he clasps the chain. His fingers trail down and around the front of the necklace once it's secured, lingering on the charm that now sits between my collarbones.

“I was guessing you’d like that,” he says, looking down at me with a large grin.

“You must be crazy to come over in this sector, touch me the way you have, and gift me with stolen jewelry,” I say, keeping my head pressed against him.

“Do you want me to stop touching you?” he questions, something much deeper lingering in the question.

It's silent for several seconds.

“No,” I say, tilting my head up to face him.

His hand raises to touch my cheek, grazing his thumb along my skin with his calloused hand.

“Little Dove,” he whispers with a shake of his head, letting his hand drop once we hear the sound of others moving closer to the back door. I grab his hand as he moves away. He spins around to look at me.

“So that's it? You’re just leaving?” I question, watching his smirk grow.

“There are a few people in there who’d recognize me. I don’t want to stick around once they notice what's missing,” he utters, the voices growing louder.

“I'll be back,” he whispers, giving my hand one small press of his lips.

He continues his walk, one more burning question eating me alive.

“I don’t even know your name,” I say. His back stays toward me.

“Then I guess we will have to meet again, won't we?” he questions.

I hear the door swing open, watching Max’s group spill onto the lawn. My eyes immediately move back to where the enigmatic stranger had just been, feeling a sense of relief and sadness once I realize he’s nowhere to be seen. Slowly, the reality of what I just allowed to happen weighs down on me, but I’m filled with more feelings of satisfaction rather than shame, only adding to my own internal conflict.

I wanted that touch. I wanted it from him at that moment, and I'm worried it wasn’t because of the alcohol.

My stomach begins to churn, feeling more uneasy the longer the alcohol settles. I quickly shove past the group of boys, not even acknowledging Max as I move back inside the home and straight up the stairs to find somewhere quiet.

What the fuck did I just do?

I run down the hall, trying to find the nearest bathroom to empty the contents of my stomach. Jiggling the handles of door after door, I grow more impatient as I realize every single one is locked. Most likely done on purpose to keep horny teenagers from besmirching the space. Panic sets in as I wonder whether the stranger was indeed an Unfortunate or if what he said was nothing more than a trick. I think of his hands on me, still hearing the music play as he guided our movements. His hands, though rough, were so gentle against my skin. His blue eyes had watched me closely, taking in as much of me as I was of him.

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