Glitch

disconnected from the Link these days, but
    from what I could see, he hid it perfectly.
    At lunch, we went through our normal tutoring ritual—
    though now I wondered if he’d actually needed the tutoring
    in the fi rst place. He only seemed to be watching me, not the
    texts or notes. And then there was the way he would touch
    me whenever possible. He’d put his hand casually in contact
    with mine on the table, or he’d press our legs together under-
    neath the table.
    “Can I try something?” he said when I went over to his
    housing unit two afternoons later. He shut his bedroom door,
    159

    Heather Anastasiu
    even though his mother and father would not be home for at
    least another hour.
    “What?”
    “I want to touch your lips with mine.”
    “Why?”
    “Because I think it will feel really good. For both of us.
    We can stop if you don’t like it.”
    “Okay . . .”
    He pulled me close eagerly and smashed his lips against
    mine roughly. I felt his tongue moving to open my lips. It
    felt wet and when I opened my mouth like he seemed to
    want, our teeth clicked against each other awkwardly.
    I stood stiffl
    y with my eyes open, watching his face and
    trying to mea sure how I was feeling, trying to understand
    what plea sure felt like. I thought about pulling away, but
    he’d been so glowing and excited about trying and he’d
    seemed so sure I would like it, too. He sucked on one of my
    lips for a second, which mainly just felt strange, but maybe
    nice. I wasn’t sure.
    He pulled away, smiling. “Did you feel it?” His lips were
    wet and his face was fl ushed.
    I didn’t want to dampen his excitement. “Um. Maybe.”
    He broke into a giant grin. It was like his whole face lit
    up, and I suddenly noticed how well formed he was. His face
    was square with a wide, strong jaw. He seemed to exude
    strength. I reached up tentatively and touched his short blond
    hair at the crown of his forehead. He closed his eyes and
    sighed, putting his hand over mine and pressing it to his face.
    He leaned down, burying his face in my neck. “You’re all
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    G L I TC H
    I can think about. Your lips. Your body. Your legs, your
    back.” He cupped my hips and pulled me into his, nuzzling
    his face at the base of my neck.
    I laughed and pulled away. “There’s so many things I want
    to talk about and we don’t have much time.”
    He sighed, hands still grasping me around the waist and
    pulling me tight to the front of his body. He let out a low
    groan. “But all I want to do is this. I fi nally have you here
    with me and I don’t want to stop. I’ve dreamed of this for so
    long.”
    I took his hand. “Maybe later.”
    He brightened and ran both his hands through his short
    blond hair several times, then squeezed his eyes shut.
    “Okay,” he said. “Slowing down.” He moved away from
    the door where we were standing and walked around the
    room, jumping up and down a few times and stretching out
    his muscles. “Slowing down, slowing down.”
    I laughed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know this would be so hard
    for you.”
    He shrugged, fi nally coming to sit down again. “It’s okay.
    I didn’t realize it would all be so new to you. But we can
    learn together.”
    “Right.” I took his hand, then frowned. “Your pulse seems
    accelerated. How is your heart monitor not going off ?”
    “I disabled it.” He grinned proudly. “I recorded a small
    section of normal activity and set it on a loop. I can do yours,
    too, but I need to borrow some equipment.”
    “When you say borrow . . .” I said. “Won’t they know it’s
    missing?”
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    Heather Anastasiu
    “I’d take it back the next day. I’ll get it tomorrow.”
    I nodded, knowing it might be dangerous, but still, to
    have my adrenaline levels and heart rate not constantly mon-
    itored would help me escape detection during my more in-
    tense glitches. At the same time, I hated the idea of Max
    putting himself in danger for me.
    “I’ll think about it. Don’t do anything in the meantime.”
    I looked hard into his eyes to make sure he agreed.
    He nodded reluctantly. “Well, maybe next week.”
    “I’ve been thinking about everything you told me last
    time,” I said, changing the subject. “There have to be others
    like us. Maybe even in the Academy or riding on the train
    with us or at the Market. We have to fi gure out who they
    are, so we can help them like you helped me. It’s made all
    the diff erence to know I’m not