Kenji, I notice, is looking determinedly away from all of us.
He clears his throat then, still staring at the sky when he says, “For what it’s worth, bro, I tried to get her to tell you. I don’t approve of this whole surprise-wedding nonsense. I told her—I said, if it were me, I’d want to know.” Finally, Kenji meets my eyes. “But she wouldn’t listen. She said it had to be a surprise. I said,You’re going to go back to your room tonight smelling like paint, and he’s going to know! The man is not an idiot!And she was like blah blah blah he’s not going to know, blah blah blah, I’m the queen of the world, blah blah—”
“KENJI.”
“What?”
Ella’s fists are clenched. She looks like she might punch him in the face. “Please. Stop speaking.”
“Why?” Kenji looks around. “What’d I say?”
“Paint,” I say, frowning as I remember. “Of course. I thought you smelled like something faintly chemical last night. I wasn’t sure what it was, though.”
“What?” Ella says, crestfallen. “How? I thought you were asleep.”
I shake my head, smiling now, though mostly for her benefit. Ella’s guilt is palpable, and multiplying quickly.
“What was the paint for?” I ask.
“Nope!” Winston claps his hands together. “We’re not doing that right now! You guys ready to get started? Good. Kenji and I will lead the way.”
Ten
Ella is holding my hand like a lifeline, grinning as we forge an unfamiliar path through the Sanctuary. Her happiness is so electric it’s contagious. I feel heavy with it, overwhelmed by it. I don’t even think my body knows what to do with this much of it.
But seeing her like this—
It’s impossible to describe what it does to me to see her so happy, smiling so wide she can hardly speak. I only know that I never want to do anything to make it stop.
We’re following Kenji and Winston, both of whom were quickly joined by their counterparts, Nazeera and Brendan, while the rest of the crowd follows close behind. I seem to be the only one of us who doesn’t know where we’re going, and Ella still refuses to tell me anything more about our destination.
“Will you at least tell me whether we’re leaving the Sanctuary?” I ask.
She smiles up at me. “Yes and no.”
I frown. “Are we going somewhere to see the thing you wanted to show me? Or is this something else?”
Her smile grows bigger. “Yes and no.”
“I see,” I say, squinting into the distance. “So you’re torturing me on purpose.”
“Yes,” she says, poking me in the stomach. “And no.”
I shake my head, laughing a little, and she pokes me in the stomach again.
“Ow,” I say quietly.
Ella beams before wrapping her arms around my waist, hugging me as we walk, not seeming to care at all that she stumbles every few steps. I’m so incomprehensibly happy I seem to have misplaced most of my brain cells. I can hardly gather my thoughts.
After a moment, Ella says, “You know, it’s not much fun to poke you in the stomach. It’s not even possible, really, to poke hard muscle.” She slides her hand up under my shirt, then slowly down my torso. “This whole thing would work much better if you had some body fat.”
I take a steadying breath. “I’m sorry to disappoint you.”
“I never said I was disappointed,” she says, still smiling. “I love your body.”
Her words conjure a simmering heat somewhere deep inside me. I tense as she draws patterns along my skin, her fingers grazing my navel before moving slowly up again, tracing lines with excruciating care.
I finally cover her hand with my own.
