The Elite (Selection)

sigh. “We’ll be right in.”
    The guard left us alone, and Maxon turned back to me. “Another fault of mine: I’m losing patience with the rebels. I’m tired of dealing with them.”
    He stood and offered me his hand. I took it, watching the sad frustration in his eyes. We’d been attacked twice by the rebels since the start of the Selection—once by the simply disruptive Northerners and once by the deadly Southerners—and even with my brief experience, I could understand his exhaustion.
    Maxon was picking up the blanket and shaking it out, clearly not happy that our night had been cut short.
    “Hey,” I said, urging him to face me. “I had fun.”
    He nodded.
    “No, really,” I said, walking over to him. He moved the blanket to one hand to wrap his free arm around me. “We should do it again sometime. You can tell me which stars are which colors, because I seriously can’t tell.”
    Maxon gave me a sad smile. “I wish things were easier sometimes, normal.”
    I moved so I could wrap my arms around him, and as I did so, Maxon dropped the blanket to return the gesture. “I hate to break it to you, Your Majesty, but even without the guards, you’re far from normal.”
    His expression lightened a bit but was still serious. “You’d like me more if I was.”
    “I know you find it hard to believe, but I really do like you the way you are. I just need more—”
    “Time. I know. And I’m prepared to give you that. I only wish I knew that you’d actually want to be with me when that time was over.”
    I looked away. That wasn’t something I could promise. I weighed Maxon and Aspen in my heart over and over, and neither of them ever had a true edge. Except, maybe, when I was alone with one of them. Because, at that moment, I was tempted to promise Maxon that I would be there for him in the end.
    But I couldn’t.
    “Maxon,” I whispered, seeing how dejected he looked at my lack of an answer. “I can’t tell you that. But what I can tell you is that I want to be here. I want to know if there’s a possibility for … for …” I stammered, not sure how to put it.
    “Us?” Maxon guessed.
    I smiled, happy at how easily he understood me. “Yes. I want to know if there’s a possibility for us to be an us.”
    He moved a lock of hair behind my shoulder. “I think the odds are very high,” he said matter-of-factly.
    “I think so, too. Just … time, okay?”
    He nodded, looking happier. This was how I wanted to end our night, with hope. Well, and maybe one more thing. I bit my lip and leaned into Maxon, asking with my eyes.
    Without a second of hesitation, he bent to kiss me. It was warm and gentle, and it left me feeling adored and somehow aching for more. I could have stayed there for hours, just to see if I could get enough of that feeling; but too soon, Maxon backed away.
    “Let’s go,” he said in a playful tone, pulling me toward the palace. “Better get inside before the guards come for us on horseback with spears drawn.”
    As Maxon left me at the stairs, the tiredness hit me like a wall. I was practically dragging myself up to the second floor and around the corner to my room when, suddenly, I was quite awake again.
    “Oh!” Aspen said, surprised to see me, too. “I think it makes me the worst guard ever that I assumed you were in your room this whole time.”
    I giggled. The Elite were supposed to sleep with at least one of their maids on watch in the night. I really didn’t like that, so Maxon insisted on stationing a guard by my room in case there was an emergency. The thing was, most of the time that guard was Aspen. It was a strange mix of exhilaration and terror knowing that nearly every night he was right outside my door.
    The lightness of the moment faded quickly as Aspen grasped what it meant that I hadn’t been safely tucked in my bed. He cleared his throat uncomfortably.
    “Did you have a good time?”
    “Aspen,” I whispered, looking to make sure no one was around. “Don’t be upset. I’m part of the Selection, and this is just how it is.”
    “How am I supposed to stand a chance, Mer? How can I compete when you only ever talk to one of us?” He made a good point, but what could I do?
    “Please don’t be mad at me, Aspen. I’m trying to figure all this out.”
    “No, Mer,” he said, gentleness returning to his voice. “I’m not mad at you. I miss you.” He didn’t dare say the words aloud, but he mouthed them. I love you.
    I melted.
    “I know,”