Page 33 of The Love Interest
“What’s this?”
She rushes toward me and plucks it out of my arms like it could sting. Gently, she places it back down on the bench.
“That’s one of the very few things in this whole room that could actually kill you. I call them Bolt Gloves.”
The name reminds me of static gel, an ointment they have at the LIC. A Love Interest puts it on his hands or torso before coming into contact with his Chosen, so that when they touch, the Chosen gets a faint electric shock. Thankfully, Kaylee decided I don’t need to use it. Wearing it is incredibly painful, as it shocks the Love Interest constantly before it’s washed off. I nearly cried the first time I had to put it on my chest.
“Now you officially have my attention,” I say.
“I’m trying to come up with a more effective device for personal defense. The idea is that you wear the glove, and to activate it all you have to do is press down on whoever is attacking you. Then,zap!It sends electricity through them, eliminating the threat. They work for the most part, but the amount of electricity they produce would still be fatal to all but the sturdiest people. So they don’t really work at all, because I don’t want to create anything that kills people. I’m aiming instead for seriously maimed. Like, imagine if I’d been wearing it tonight? I could’ve stopped the fight before it started.”
I point to the test tubes filled with glowing blue liquid.
“What’s that?”
“Oh, that’s not finished yet, but it’s supposed to be an alternative to sunscreen. My idea is that you apply this gel once a month and then you have complete protection from UV. Goodbye, sunburn. It doesn’t work yet, but I’m sure I’ll figure it out eventually.”
“That’s incredible, Juliet. This whole place is. When did you become such a genius?”
“I guess we both changed while we were apart. I got smart and you got hot.”
Her cheeks go red, then she points to the door. “But that’s enough for now, huh?”
But I’m barely listening.
Because my Chosen called me hot.
It’s still early, says Kaylee’s voice in my mind.But that sounded a lot like checkmate.
***
I’m in bed, watching the clock slowly tick by. It’s midnight.
After I got home, I cleaned my room, mainly because I was still processing my time with Juliet and it felt good to be doing something with my hands. Also, I was trying to figure out what to say to Dyl if he asked about it. Do I tell him she called me hot? At the moment I’m leaning toward not telling him, because even though we’re competing I don’t want to hurt him unnecessarily. I may not be Nice, but that doesn’t make me mean.
Now the floor is clear of clothes, my desk is dish-free, and everything has been wiped down. The room smells like the lemony cleaning chemicals I used, fresh and sharp. I’ve even left two bottles of beer that I swiped from the fridge on my desk. In case, well, Dyl decides to show up.
A knock sounds on my window.Yes!I slide out of bed, pull on a shirt and a pair of sweatpants, then walk over and open it. Dyl is there, in the darkness, grinning at me. He looks so different now that he isn’tDylan, the heroic badass. He’s smiling and his eyes are wide and friendly, not narrowed like they were when I last saw him. I like this version of him so much more. He’s wearing a black shirt and dark jeans.
“You’re wearing black,” I say. “Whata surprise.”
“Are you all right?” asks Dyl. He’s peering at my face. What’s that look in his eyes? Is it sympathy? I raise my hand and touch the bruise on my right cheek. Aside from that, there’s the cut on my eyebrow, but the pain feels like a headache; annoying, but not crippling. I’d actually forgotten about it.
“I’m fine,” I say as I step outside, passing him a beer as I make my way out. “It’s totally fine.”
“Good. I was worried. I told them not to attack you, but apparently you attacked them? What’s with that? They were supposed to try to mug Juliet, but when I got there it was a full-on brawl. I had to improvise.”
I bow my head slightly, nodding. “I figured out it was your big entrance. It made sense to try to derail it. Sorry.”
He laughs. “Don’t be sorry, I’m not mad at you. I just can’t believe you punched him in the face.” He grabs my hand and lifts it up. Just grabs it, like it’s no big deal, like it’s okay. He peers at scrape wounds on my knuckles. “That’s pretty badass, Caden.” I realize he’s literally holding my hand. I flinch away and rest my hand on my jittery thigh.
He looks at his own knuckles, which are bloodless. “I didn’t actually hit them. It was all rehearsed. And you wouldn’t believe how much Judy shouted at the guy who hit you. He was supposed to make you look weak compared to me, but he ended up wounding you, and everyone knows…”
“Wounded guys are hot,” I say, finishing his sentence. This lesson was drilled into us at the LIC, so it makes sense that Judy would be mad. In his anger, Dyl gave me an advantage and turned his big entrance into a positive for me. If I were his coach, I’d be livid.
“His name is Tom,” he continues. “He’s actually a pretty great guy. He seemed upset that he had to hit you. I’m sorry too, Caden. I really am.”
“What? Why? This is a fight, remember. A contest.”
