Page 43 of The Compound

No one else was nearly as remarkable as Andrew or Candice, and as the two of them sat together, holding hands, I thought that they would certainly win it: they would be the ones who got to stay here, in the end.

Some of the other kisses did stand out. I dreaded Tom’s, though I tried not to show it. He hovered in front of me for several seconds, and I met his eye, but with difficulty. He leaned down and pressed his lips tomine. I felt his tongue push into my mouth. I pushed him away. The others cheered.

Next, I watched Ryan go around the circle, acting the gentleman, even with Vanessa. When he reached her, Vanessa looked at the ground, then flicked a smile up at him; I wondered if I would have realized, from her look alone, that he had been sleeping with her behind my back. I looked at Tom, and wondered if he knew, too. He was looking at her possessively, but he always did that.

When Ryan got to me, he stroked his thumb across my jaw, the way he knew I liked. He tipped my head back so that I could look into his eyes. I looked at him with all the coldness, all the disgust I could muster. I could see the precise moment that he knew that I knew. Still, he dipped his head toward mine, slowly, as though I might pull away, and I kissed him as I had always kissed him. When he pulled back he scanned my face, uncertain now. I smiled at my feet in the same demure way that Vanessa had.

Jacintha went next, then Sam. Everything depended on Sam, I thought. He kissed Becca sweetly, but briefly. He kissed the boys with the same detached seriousness with which he kissed the girls. When he got to me I saw him hesitate a little as he knelt before me, and then his lips were on mine. He kissed me a little longer than the others, but not long enough to draw any attention. But I wanted to draw attention, so I slowly, deliberately ran my tongue across his lower lip, then very lightly bit down. I felt his eyes open. He pulled away but didn’t move for a moment—only a moment, but I felt it like an age—and when he turned and moved to the next person, I felt the urge to grab him, to cry at his feet and to grab at his hair. I felt mad; I felt ready to make a fool of myself, which, I suppose, was the intention of these challenges.

I waited until there were only a few of us left. I wanted Ryan to have to wait, and I allowed my eyes to flick over to Sam’s every couple of minutes. More frequently than not, when I looked over at him he was already looking at me. By the time I rose from my beanbag, night had fallen, and we could see each other only from the lights of the pool, a rippling, blue glow aroundus.

I went to Vanessa first, and kissed her, only our lips touching. Shetasted of watermelon. I was surprised, when I kissed her, to find that her lips were naturally plump: I had thought that it was filler. She was just naturally beautiful, Vanessa.

I went to Ryan next, and knelt between his legs. I leaned in slowly, as he had, and he whispered, “Lily,” but I didn’t want to hear anything from him. I kissed him for a few seconds, and let him feel the nothingness of it, then rose and moved on to Jacintha. I moved from person to person, delivering light pecks. I hesitated before Tom. He looked at me impassively, watching my hesitation. I didn’t want to kiss him, but the worst thing that I could do would be to show that I didn’t trust Tom.

I left Sam till last. I floated over to him like a butterfly landing on the brightest flower. I knew his features in the dark. His face, the little of it that I could see, was serious as he looked at me, but searching, too. I placed my hand on his cheek, and kissed him, soft but deliberate, and I felt his lips meet mine, expecting, I think, just a moment pressed together; but I placed my other hand around his neck, and kissed him deeper, and his hands came around to cup my face, and then he was tilting my head to kiss me deeper. There was some cheering, but that quieted too, when we didn’t let go of each other, and our lips met again and again. Silence fell around us, thick as the cover of night. Eventually I pulled back, and saw his eyes stay on mine as I rose above him.

We disbanded shortly after, and when I saw Ryan stepping toward me I slipped away quickly and quietly, the inky darkness swallowing me. I went to the orchard, where the grass was high and the leaves swayed in the rare summer breeze. I could see the house in the distance, a lovely glow of whites and yellows. I waited there for a while, shivering. I told myself that I was hiding from Ryan, but I knew that I was waiting for Sam, because he often checked on the vegetables before we went to bed. I stood shivering, my head swinging around at every sound, but he never came. I went inside before it became embarrassing.

—

That night, Ifelt the bed dip beside me later than usual. Ryan had been in the shed for a long while, putting off our conversation. It was dark, but I knew it was him.

“Lily,” he said. I kept my back to him. He put his hand on my shoulder, and I jerked so violently that he lifted it, and didn’t touch me again. After a minute, I felt him turn. I didn’t sleep at all that night. I stayed in bed until I was sure that the sun had risen, and when I stepped outside the house with my coffee I could see bushfires burning in the distance, raging and writhing, miles away from us, but moving closer, inch by inch.

Nine

Ryan found me in thewasted orchard the next day, sitting beside the bare trees, knees hugged to my chest. I had been walking around all morning, wanting to avoid him, and wanting him to findme.

He wore a somber look that irritated me to no end.

“Lily, I’m sorry,” he said. He didn’t seem inclined to give an explanation, and I wasn’t going to ask him for one. It was obvious enough, anyway: if he wasn’t getting it from me, he would look elsewhere. Like everything else here, it was a game, a competition, no matter how relaxed and “genuine” things looked. What wasn’t yet clear was whether Ryan was the one who had fumbled the play, or if I was the one who was now at a loss. In a lot of ways, it wasn’t about the fact that he wasn’t faithful to me—it was about how it made me look, and how it would impact the rest of my time here.

“How many times?” I said.

“That was the first time,” he said. He looked at the ground. “The first time with Vanessa.”

I stared at him. “Who else?”

“Mia,” he said.

I wanted to tear at his face until my nails broke and my fingers bled. Mia hadn’t spoken to me for the last week that she had been here. I thought that I had offended her in some way.

“I want to kill you,” I said. “But probably Tom will do that for me.”

“Lily,” he said, and looked at me sadly. “Tom sleeps around, too.”

“What? With who?”

“Sarah,” he said. “And Mia, too.”

I turned and picked at withered leaves, just to hide my face and give my hands something todo.

“I still love you,” he said. I didn’t turn. I shredded leaves and thought about the sound of people moving in the night. I wondered if he had ever had sex with her in the bedroom, then returned to me by sunrise.

“Aren’t you going to say anything? I said I love you, Lily.”

There was silence for a long time, and when he spoke again, his voice was cold. “And what was that with you and Sam last night, during the task?”

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