When I looked back, Marc was staring at me.
The moon was out and big and full in the sky, its rays illuminating the side of his face. It brightened his dark eyes and made it possible to read his expression clearly for the first time since joining him here. What I saw made me suck in a breath. The way he was staring at me was different than how any man had ever looked at me before, and there was both longing and regret in his gaze.
As if realizing I’d seen it, he looked away and got to his feet. “We probably shouldn’t push our luck.”
“Yeah,” I reluctantly agreed as I, too, got to my feet.
It was my turn to stare at him, although he didn’t know it because he was too focused on the floor. Almost like he was afraid to look at me. Like he was afraid of what would happen. I knew what I wanted to happen, and I assumed he wanted the same thing. But it was too risky. Too far. We couldn’t cross that line.
I gnawed on my bottom lip as the seconds ticked by, knowing I should walk away. Knowing I needed to put space between us before I did something stupid. The problem was, I didn’t want to. Almost everything in my life had been taken from me, but I refused to surrender my feelings, and I wanted to be here with Marc. Wanted to be in his arms, to have my body pressed against his as we kissed. I wanted to be in control of at least some part of my life.
It was the last thought that pushed me to take a step closer to him.
He looked up when I did, and our eyes met. As soon as they did, I knew neither of us would be able to resist, so it was no surprise when he reached out, grabbed my waist, and pulled me against him.
His mouth covered mine, his lips hungry and insistent. I wrapped my arms around him, clung to him, kissed him back. It was the most intense first kiss I’d ever experienced, making my head spin and my heart thud. I wanted it to go on forever, wanted to get lost in it. But as if suddenly realizing what he’d done, Marcreleased me and stumbled back. He was breathing heavily, and his brown eyes were wide. He looked scared.
“Shit.” He ran his hand down his face. “Shit, Ara. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. What was I thinking?”
“It’s okay,” I said, still trying to catch my breath.
“It’s not. Do you know what will happen to you if anyone finds out about this?” He looked down even though we were alone. “They’ll send you away.”
I waved to the empty hall. “No one will find out.”
“It was still stupid.” He shook his head. “We can’t do this.”
Tears sprang to my eyes as what he was saying sank in, and I wanted to scream. Wanted to stomp my foot. They had already taken me from my life, were about to steal Trevor. They couldn’t have Marc too. It wasn’t fair.
“What do you mean?” I managed to get out.
“I mean, we can’t meet like this again,” he said, avoiding looking at me. “It’s stupid, Ara.”
Even though I’d only known him for a little over a week, the thought of having to go through this without him, of not having him to confide in, made me want to sob. I needed the distraction, the outlet, but even more than that, I wanted him in my life. I liked him. Felt a connection to him I’d never felt before.
“Marc, please,” I said, my voice trembling.
He lifted his hands and stepped back. “I can’t do this to you, Ara. I won’t. It’s too risky.”
Then he turned and hurried down the hall, leaving me alone.
Thirty-Six
Itossed and turned all night, thinking about Marc and the kiss and his determination to put a stop to this thing between us before it even had a chance to start. I didn’t want to believe he meant it, didn’t want to add yet more disappointment to my life, but I’d seen the expression in his eyes. He was serious.
I prayed he had as little will power as I did. Which at this point was basically none.
Having gotten little rest, I was like a zombie the next morning at breakfast, and Bette was uncharacteristically quiet. I didn’t know if she was giving me space since I’d been inseminated the day before or if she was just worn out. She looked pretty fucking exhausted and uncomfortable.
While I picked at my runny eggs, I scanned the faces of the soldiers stationed around the room, looking for Marc. He rarely worked in the dining room, so it was no big surprise that he wasn’t present, but that didn’t stop me from seeking him out the rest of the day. It wasn’t until early evening that I finally spotted him with a group of other soldiers, though. They were in the bar, sitting at a table with drinks in front of them, talking and laughing. I almost missed him as I walked by the open door since his back was to me, but he turned just as I passed, and I caught a side view of his face. I froze, my heart hammering, and watched him from the doorway since I couldn’t go in. Technically, the bar wasn’t off limits to those of us in the program, but since we couldn’t drinkand we weren’t supposed to fraternize with the soldiers, there was no reason for any of us to go in. Meaning there were no other women except two off duty minders. I would have stood out like a sore thumb and then would have had to come up with a reason for being there that had nothing to do with the smiling soldier on the other side of the room.
I stared at the back of his head, willing him to look my way. Silently begging him to change his mind. It took a few minutes, but as if sensing me standing there, he finally glanced over his shoulder. Our eyes met and the air between us crackled, and I sucked in a breath, holding it. Waiting. Hoping. Marc gave an almost indistinguishable shake of his head before turning back around, and I deflated. It was over. He’d made up his mind and was going to do everything in his power to avoid me. I waited until I was safely in my room to cry.
Sergeant Collins called a special meeting Monday morning after breakfast, and just like Marc had said, we were told the landline was down. Women grumbled, complained, but unmoved, Collins simply told us to be patient. More than a week we’d been here, and, in that time, our cell phones had been useless, WIFI was nonexistent, we had zero access to news about the outside, and we’d only been allowed to call our loved ones once. We were being cut off, and there was nothing any of us could do about it.
Days went by, and I spotted Marc on occasion, but he was always on the other side of the room or down the hall. He knew where I hung out and where I liked to sit during mealtimes, and he must have requested different assignments or swapped with other people, because he was never around. It hurt and made the days seem longer than they had before. Especially since I had now accepted that I wouldn’t get to talk to Trevor, Bette was so uncomfortable she basically just sat in the movie room, and Malika was so angry she would barely talk to anyone.
In the days following Marc’s rejection, I began to imagine my time at the Stanley dragging out in monotony. One day after another, week after week, month after month, year after year. Nothing changing. Nothing to look forward to. No friends. No hope. No future. It sounded like torture.
