Unravel Me: The Juliette Chronicles Book 2

you’re going to help me train now—really, I am. Thank you for that. But you can’t go around proclaiming your fake love to me— especially not in front of Adam—and you have to let me cross this room before the breakfast hour is over, okay? I hardly ever get to see him.”
    Kenji nods very slowly, looks a little solemn. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I get it.”
    “Thank you.”
    “Adam is jealous of our love.”
    “Just go get your food!” I push him, hard, fighting back an exasperated laugh.
    Kenji is one of the only people here—with the exception of Adam, of course—who isn’t afraid to touch me. In truth, no one really has anything to fear when I’m wearing this suit, but I usually take my gloves off when I eat and my reputation is always walking 5 feet ahead of me. People keep their distance. And even though I accidentally attacked Kenji once, he’s not afraid. I think it would take an astronomical amount of something horrible to get him down.
    I admire that about him.
    Adam doesn’t say much when we meet. He doesn’t have to say more than “Hey,” because his lips quirk up on one side and I can already see him standing a little taller, a little tighter, a little tenser. And I don’t know much about anything in this world but I do know how to read the book written in his eyes.
    The way he looks at me.
    His eyes are heavy now in a way that worries me, but his gaze is still so tender, so focused and full of feeling that I can hardly keep myself out of his arms when I’m around him. I find myself watching him do the simplest things— shifting his weight, grabbing a tray, nodding good morning to someone—just to track the movement of his body. My moments with him are so few that my chest is always too tight, my heart too spastic. He makes me want to be impractical all the time.
    He never lets go of my hand.
    “You okay?” I ask him, still feeling a little apprehensive about the night before.
    He nods. Tries to smile. “Yeah. I, uh . . .” Clears his throat. Takes a deep breath. Looks away. “Yeah, I’m sorry about last night. I kind of . . . I freaked out a little.”
    “About what, though?”
    He’s looking over my shoulder. Frowning.
    “Adam . . . ?”
    “Yeah?”
    “Why were you freaked out?”
    His eyes meet mine again. Wide. Round. “What? Nothing.”
    “I don’t understa—”
    “Why the hell are you guys taking so long?”
    I spin around. Kenji is standing just behind me, so much food piled on his tray I’m surprised no one said anything. He must’ve convinced the cooks to give him extra.
    “Well?” Kenji is staring, unblinking, waiting for us to respond. He finally cocks his head backward, in a motion that says follow me , before walking away.
    Adam blows out his breath and looks so distracted that I decide to drop the subject of last night. Soon. We’ll talk soon. I’m sure it’s nothing. I’m sure it’s nothing at all.
    We’ll talk soon and everything is going to be fine.

FIVE
    Kenji is waiting for us at an empty table.
    James used to join us at mealtimes, but now he’s friends with the handful of younger kids at Omega Point, and prefers sitting with them. He seems the happiest of all of us to be here—and I’m happy he’s happy—but I have to admit I miss his company. I’m afraid to mention it though; sometimes I’m not sure if I want to know why he doesn’t spend time with Adam when I’m around. I don’t think I want to know if the other kids managed to convince him that I’m dangerous. I mean, I am dangerous, but I just
    Adam sits down on the bench seat and I slide in next to him. Kenji sits across from us. Adam and I hide our linked hands under the table and I allow myself to enjoy the simple luxury of his proximity. I’m still wearing my gloves but just being this close to him is enough; flowers are blooming in my stomach, the soft petals tickling every inch of my nervous system. It’s like I’ve been granted 3 wishes: to touch, to taste, to feel. It’s the strangest phenomenon. A crazy happy impossibility wrapped in tissue paper, tied with a bow, tucked away in my heart.
    It often feels like a privilege I don’t deserve.
    Adam shifts so the length of his leg is pressed against mine.
    I look up to find him smiling at me, a secret, tiny sort of smile that says so many things, the kinds of things no one should be saying at a breakfast table. I force myself to breathe as I suppress a grin. I turn to focus on my food. Hope I’m not