Page 51 of Night in a Waste Land

He tilted his head.Come on. “Do you like him?”

“He’s a good leader.”

“Rose.”

She sighed, and managed to breathe out some last thread of tension. “Yeah. I do. I don’t–” She bit her lip.

“It doesn’t mean you love Beck any less,” Gallo said, his smile understanding – as understanding as he could be, without crawling inside her head and seeing all the dark clutter there. “Wouldn’t he want you to be happy?”

She gave him an unimpressed look.

“As happy as possible,” he amended. “I mean, obviously, Lance is no Tris–”

She shot him the bird, and then they both laughed.

“He does care about you,” Gallo said, when they’d settled. “I think it might – help you, I guess. Giving him a chance. Just…maybe don’t break his heart. If you can. He’s a good man.”

She nodded. “He is.”

They shared a last smile, and when Gallo stood, and offered a hug, she found herself stepping into, and hugging him back.

“You smell nice,” she said, her face smushed into his bare chest. “Is that vanilla?”

“Tris likes it.”

“Mm. Thanks for the blackmail material.”

They headed down the hall together toward the Walker wing of the barracks, where each of them had their own small, but private room.

Gallo went to Tris’s door, and threw her one last smile over his shoulder before he slipped inside. Rose heard the low rumble of Tris’s voice as the latch engaged.

She was happy for her friend. Her sweet, decent, loyal friend, who’d set out to befriend her when the rest of the cadets wanted to wipe the floor with her. He deserved to get what he wanted. She wondered, with an inward smile, if he’d shown Tris his collection of posters. She thought there might have been an action figure, too.

She turned toward her own door – and stopped with her hand on the latch. Lance was two doors down. The overhead cage lights caught the brass gleam of his name plaque there.Sgt. Lance du Lac, Gold Company.

He wanted her to be sure.

She was.

He was in love with her, Gallo had said.

He was. She knew that.

It felt strange, to be on the flip side of the coin. By the end, she hadn’t questioned Beck’s love and devotion, but at first, before he’d ever caved to her kisses, she’d known that she loved him more.

At least for a while.

Nothing was ever really known, was it?

She took a deep breath, turned, and walked down to Lance’s door. She knocked.

In the ensuing wait, silence reigning from the other side of the door, she doubted – but only a little. She wasn’t sorry for knocking, nor for the offer she’d make if he answered. But maybe he’d gathered the composure he’d abandoned back at the mayor’s mansion. Maybe he’d thought better of his own vulnerability, and he wouldn’t–

The door swung open.

Her breath caught.

Lance stood with one hand braced in the doorjamb, barefoot, in Company issue sweatpants and a tight, white t-shirt, his dog tags gleaming against his chest. His dark hair damp from the shower, slicked back; his skin glowing golden, his biceps testing the tiny sleeves of his shirt.

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