Page 71 of Dissent

“Hold on,” he stroked. “There. You had some blood left on your cheek.”

I was such an idiot. “Oh, uh, thank you. I appreciate that.”

“No problem. I’ll take that,” he said as he gathered the laundry from my arms and stepped away from me. Letting out a quiet, disappointed sigh, I watched as he walked over to the corner and dumped the dirty linen into a bin before heading for the door. “Coming?”

My lips pressed themselves together as I tried to settle the chaos of emotions within me. It had been a long night, and I had a feeling it wasn’t over yet.

36: Yes

WheredoIevenstart? The silence was thick, and I couldn’t help but avoid looking at him. I was so embarrassed and incredibly frustrated. He insisted on walking me back to my tent. Normally, we would engage in easy conversation, a byproduct of spending almost all our time together for the past several weeks. But since leaving that damn, random changing tent, it was crickets. And it was gettingwayuncomfortable.

I knew he felt it, too. How could he not?

I hated this.

I took a deep breath—in through my nose, held it, and then out slowly through my mouth. We were almost back, but there was so much I wanted to say, so much had happened, and we were in such a weird place that I seriously didn’t want to leave it this way. I glanced at him, parting my lips to say something, but so did he at the same time. We both closed our mouths again.

Well, this just got even more awkward.

“Mara?”

Oh thank god!“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” My heart squeezed as I held my breath.

Silence was a ticking clock. We had arrived, standing outside of my tent. He faced me, and so I followed his lead, shoving down nerves that threatened to shake my body like a tambourine.

“I shouldn’t have said what I said earlier tonight—the part about being so focused on yourself. It wasn’t fair, and I didn’t mean it, and it was…” he hesitated, the words hanging there, waiting for him to take ownership of them. “It just wasn’t fair,” he decided. Then the silence returned as he shuffled his foot, looking to the ground and drawing little circles in the dirt with his boot.

I was stuck. I didn’t really knowwhatto respond.

Did I forgive him? Yeah, probably. Was I still pissed off? Well, duh,yeah!But did I want to get past that? Of course!

I was so scared that I was going to lose him tonight, that he was going to be gone and I would never get the chance to tell him how I really felt. So, I took in another deep breath and forced myself to look at him. And as our eyes met, I saw just how vulnerable he’d become. There was fear mixed in with hurt. But what scared him? What was hurting him? Was it me? Of how I was going to react? Maybe it was about Chelsea or Wes? But the fear creased his brows, and the hurt shimmered in his eyes.

“It’s okay.” Right as the words left my lips, I realized I wasn’t telling him that what he said wasokayor that I forgave him, necessarily. I realized I was trying to ease the pain that reflected in his eyes. I wanted to remove it for him, carry it so he didn’t have to. I didn’t like to see him afraid, to watch him hurt. Because seeing his hurt stirred up my own, gripping my heart and wringing it out. And then it hit me—I didn’t really care anymore about what he said earlier tonight. It still bothered me deep down, but I cared more about him and the pain he was feeling. I couldn’t even imagine the life he’d lived.

I lifted my hand and cupped his cheek. “It’s okay,” I whispered again.

He pressed his palm on top of mine, holding it firm against his cheek as his eyes closed. “It’s not okay, Mara.” He paused for a moment and then opened his eyes to look at me, pulling my hand down from his cheek, but not letting it go. “I don’t know your life. So I don’t get to judge. It’s not what the Dissenters are about. Raúl judges—he judges the people and condemns them to whatever life he sees fit. But that’s not who I am. That’s not the man I want to be.” Pain flickered across his eyes as he diverted his gaze down to our joined hands, sliding his thumb back and forth across the top of mine with care.

I felt my heart pounding. The careful, gentle caress of his thumb on my hand sent bolts of electricity up my arm that ricocheted inside my body. But then it shifted, his hand drifting upward to hold my wrist. And as he did, he pulled gently, drawing me closer to him. I looked up now as my whole body seemed to light up from the inside out, and I caught his gaze on me, the fear and pain gone from his eyes, but replaced with longing.

Directly in front of him, our faces inches apart, the energy of his body radiated around me. And that scent—that familiar smell I’d grown to love—filled my senses. The evergreen and citrus wrapped themselves around me, and I instantly felt intoxicated. He took my hand and gently placed it on his chest over his heart, bracing it. I could feel it, his heart beating in his chest with such velocity. Despite his calm demeanor, he was filled with as much anxiety as I was.

“I want to be the man that’s patient. That listens first before assuming I know the answer. I want to be the man that holds space for others, that gives others the opportunity to be who they are.” His eyes grew fierce, not with anger or pain, but with passion. “I want to be the man that listens to you, Mara. The man that holds space foryou, that givesyouthe opportunity to discover who you really are without fear. I want to be the man that keeps you safe.”

He drew up his other hand and gently stroked my cheek, softly tracing the line of my jaw. “I want to be the man that holds you, that laughs with you. I want to be the man that gets angry when you don’t listen to me and show up in the middle of the damn forest but can’t help but be proud of you for it.”

The longing in his eyes grew, and that passion burned, threatening to consume us both. I could feel my body trembling, my knees growing weak, and my heart slowly turning into nothing but mush. “I want to be the man that you think about when you close your eyes at night. I want to be the man that you choose, Mara. Because…” he paused, taking a step closer to me, sealing the space between us. “I’ve already chosenyou.”

I gasped, feeling my world spin. He was choosingme. Not Chelsea, not some other girl, butme. And not because he had been assigned to do it or because his parents said he had to, but becausehewanted me.

My lips parted as Matias brought his face closer to mine, and I felt the warmth of his breath upon me. My whole body trembled with expectation. He was so close, and I wanted so badly to bury myself in him, wrapped in his arms, forever safe.

His eyes burrowed into my own, and though they still seemed to yearn, some of that vulnerability had returned. “But I’ll only be that man if you want me to, Mara.” A pause. A moment of growing intensity, growing desire blooming within me, until he finally uttered, “Do you?”

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