We remained close. His hands found mine, and this was different—intimate. Terrifying. I felt the calluses at his fingertips and the roughness of his knuckles and the unbearable gentleness of his thumbs brushing over my hands.
With great effort, I asked, “What did you think I’d do?”
This time I tried not to assign meaning to the long silence before he spoke. I didn’t quite succeed. “I don’t know.”
The undertone of regret in his voice was unmistakable. I straightened so I could see his face, so I could study his deep-brown eyes and the small furrow at his brow. His cheeks were pink, as if we’d been running, and despite my uncertainty, something in me warmed to see that I wasn’t the only one who flushed with little provocation.
“What is it?” I prompted. “Why are you so troubled?”
He shook his head, but didn’t release my hands. A few tendrils of vines that covered the boulder at his back curled toward him like a curious little animal. When I noticed, I smiled, and he turned his head to see the tiny leaves fluttering, as if greeting him. “Oh,” he said, flushing more. “Sometimes things—do that.”
“It’s not fair that you’re alone.” Despite what the House of Industry had neglected to teach me, it had been a home and haven. “Growing up, I had others like me all around. And now I’ve got Julian. You’ve got no one.”
The corner of his mouth curved up. “Don’t rub it in, Apprentice.”
“I’m not trying to.”
“I’m teasing,” he said, squeezing my hands. His thick eyebrows scrunched together in curiosity. “Do you really think it’s nice having Julian around?”
He asked as if it surprised him, despite knowing nothing about my Senior.
“I thought he was impossibly sour at first, but there’s more to him than that.” I looked at our joined hands, Ezra’s sun worn and mine paleand covered with healing cuts and little scars. Julian deserved companionship. We both did. “He probably needs more practice at being friendly.”
“You are too kind,” Ezra said, stroking my knuckles with his thumbs. It was a compliment, but it sounded as if it made him sad to admit it.
“Perhaps you could meet him. There can’t be too many folks our age in this town. We ought to all know one another.”
“Perhaps,” Ezra said, lifting one hand and kissing it. I had a feeling he was trying to distract me, and it worked. In a moment we were kissing again. It was as if I’d never been touched before in my life.
What I’d flinched from—what I’d felt like a fool for longing for—abruptly felt right. It felt so right to be touched that I wasn’t sure I could ever stop.
I longed, in that dizzy moment, for Gertrude. To lay my head against her soft belly and wind my fingers into her hair. I wanted to tell her everything. We’d stolen kisses and called it practice, but we’d never let ourselves be this. We’d listened too closely to what we’d been taught. We’d let fear of failure become a wall between us.
As a result, no one had ever touched my hair or the small of my back. Being close like this felt so good.
It felt so good that my breath hitched.
“Josephine?” Ezra asked, worried, pulling away.
“No—it’s … Yes.”
In my eager attempt to continue kissing, I nearly climbed into his lap. His chest rumbled with a laugh I felt more than heard, and he adjusted me carefully to rest sideways across his thighs. I wrapped my arms around his neck and decided I was more than happy to sit in the leaves with him for an eternity.
Our kissing eventually wound down, and I found myself with my head on his shoulder and my nose against the warm skin at his throat.
“Surely,” Ezra said, idly playing with my apprentice scarf, “this is against Julian’s rules.”
Julian’s name sounded practiced on his lips, as if he were talking about a friend. Once again, my mind tried to navigate out of the dizzying fog of want. And once again, I ignored all reason in favor of what it felt like to be held. “I assume you won’t be reporting me.”
Ezra laughed. “Most certainly not.”
A shuddery sigh formed in my chest. My body reminded me how tired I was. With a yawn, I told Ezra, “I should return to the Mission and rest.”
He took so long to reply that I began to doze in his arms, the sleepless night catching up to me like a crashing warm wave. His low voice startled me awake. “I will walk you back.”
My heart raced again. Kissing in secret was one thing. Bringing a boy home with me was another entirely. “You can’t come into my room. It wouldn’t be proper.”
“I am not asking to bed you, Josephine. I’m asking to walk you home to keep you safe.”
