Page 90 of Bound By Stars

He blinks slowly. “Fine.”

“Reve, you’re experiencing a sudden spike in body temperature. My scan does not indicate any signs of infection, which would suggest you are experiencing a heightened emotion,” ILSA announces from behind us.

“Thanks, ILSA.” He walks a little faster.

Wrong topic. I press my lips together, watching him in my peripheral vision until I can’t take it anymore. I grab his bicep and stop. “Are you mad at me?”

“No.” He turns to go again, but I pull on the back of his vest.

“Your heart rate and temperature would suggest otherwise. Try taking some calming breaths with me. In…out…in…out…”

“I’m fine, ILSA,” he snaps at her and finally looks down at me. “Can you shut her up?”

“ILSA, silent mode,” I say without breaking eye contact with him. “What’s with the cold shoulder?”

“I’m doing my job, Weslie. I have to get you back to first class where you belong.”

“I don’t belong there. I’m stuck there.”

“I’m so sorry.” He narrows his eyes, words dripping with insincerity. “It must be so hard on you to live in luxury, being waited on and served excessive amounts of lavish foods while the people literally below you are fed rations. And I’m sure your fancy private room is torture compared to the sleeping pods and bunks we have down there. How insensitive of me.”

I drop my head. “You’re right. That was a stupid thing to say.”

“Yeah, it was.” He turns to go, but I pull him back again.

“But I’m just a visitor. A tourist. It’s not who I am!”

He laughs at me again, shaking his head. “Come on, Wes. Stop lying to yourself.”

“They aren’t my people. I’m going back to Earth after this, back to my normal life. Just like you.”

“Not like me.” His posture softens. His eyes are sad and distant. Chewing on his lip, he takes my hand in his, rubbing his rough thumb over a faded scar on my soft palm. “I remember when you got that. You fell in the orchard and that stick got lodged in your hand. You pulled it out and marched off like you were pissed at the stick for sending you home early.”

“And you walked with me the whole way.”

“I almost passed out watching the blood drip down your fingers.”

He’d held my good hand while my mom cleaned and sewed up the wound anyway. It wasn’t like it hadn’t hurt. I just couldn’t let him see me cry. I step closer to him, intoxicated by the familiarity.

“We’re a long way from that orchard.” He brushes his fingers through my hair, searching my eyes.

I want him to envelop me. Make me forget where we are. Forget the contest. That I ever stepped foot on theBoundless. Send me back to when the worst thing in my life was getting injured during an aggressive game of hide-and-seek.

His hand falls to his side, and he starts back down the hall again.

We climb the stairs in silence.

At the top step, he pauses, one hand on the railing, and nods to the door. “We’re near the escape pod bay. You know the way from here.”

I raise my hand to the control panel, pause, and turn back. “Reve, I—”

“They aren’t playing around with these threats.” He squeezes the railing tight enough that his knuckles turn white. “That thing at the Gala the other night, it was a party trick. No one got hurt, but they had to find a scapegoat. Create a cautionary tale. They made us all watch. Without any proof, they accused and condemned a man, and then shot him out of the airlock. He never hurt anyone, just did his job and kept his head down. Now there’s an empty bed in my bunk room, and all of you up there never even knew he existed.”

My mouth hangs open. An execution. For little more than a presentation that interrupted a party?

“Don’t go wandering through the sublevels anymore. You belong up here now, Weslie.” His words are punctuated by the hollowclankof his boots on the metal stairs.

I peer over the railing as he whips around the first landing.

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