Page 138 of The Last Hope
I’m smiling.
His lips begin to lift and then our foreheads press together. Sharing senses all at once. We’re like that for a long moment. Before he breathes, “Do you feel that?”
I close my eyes for a second.
It’s a feeling.
Deep in my blood. A stillness and serenity like I’m floating around in bliss. Doubled. Both of us basking in it. I open my eyes and sink into his. “Why are we feeling this way?”
His chest rises. “We’ve been living for tomorrow, for the next month, the next year. Living to survive instead of living to justlive.” He pauses. “I, more than you, have struggled with that.” His lips near my lips. “I think we feel this way because finally, we’re both living for today. At the exact same time.” A freeing tear rolls down his cheek.
I feel the wet track drip off his jaw, and we pull into a soul-bearing kiss that explodes light inside of me. His soft lips smile against my chapped ones.
Thud.
Thud.
Breathing. Needing. I hunger forward, our chests melding, and we excitedly shed one another. Shirts off, shorts off, all clothes gone. Hands exploring ridges and carves, stoking a roaring fire.
I kiss him to the bed. Not pushing him down—I’m gonna soften my roughness as I promised I’d try. So together, we climb onto the gold-stitched blanket, and I roll on top. Feeling his excitement match mine.
Our lips swell from the force, and I comb his dark-brown hair out of his face. Court hooks his ankle with my calf. Tangled up in each other, I whisper in his ear, “You’ll be all right if I take the lead?”
He’s more experienced than I, but Court makes me feel like all we do together is more right and never wrong.
“Yes,” he murmurs against my neck. “I’d be more than fine with that.”
I pat his cheek twice, and our hands go lower. We are heat. Melted ice and melted snow. He helps me where need be, and I don’t feel shy asking if he’s all right now and again. He confirms, and I go on with Grenpalish stride.
Rocking against him. He clutches my shoulders, and the deep noise he makes bursts me alive. I breathe harder, soaking up how he’s living in this very second. This very moment. Overcome tears squeeze out of the corners of my eyes.
Bliss shatters us and builds us whole. I hold him in my arms afterward. Hugged together like there is no better place than here. And now.
I’m still with him in every thudding heartbeat.
THIRTY-FIVE
Franny
Gods, let this be it.
We only have one orphanage left. One possibility. If the newborn isn’t here, we’re all out of hope.
Stork, Zimmer, and I take the lead while the others wait outside Rovenview Orphanage. The wooden, algae-covered building is situated on the north end of Montbay. Five stories high, the orphanage is an eyesore, built right in between the gap of two pristine glass skyscrapers.
We walk carefully along the swinging bridge over the still canals and reach the front door.
Once inside, the air is stickier and orange flowers bloom off vines that snake up the walls. I’d think we were still outside if I didn’t spot the wooden administration desk and dizzying hallways right behind.
I hear children’s laughter, screams, and the banging of doors opening and closing. The sound is different but familiar. I’ve never ached to return to my time in the Bartholo orphanage, but sweeping nostalgia suddenly overtakes me.
“You wart!” someone shouts, and I spot the tail end of a thievery. A girl in braids screams as another child runs off with her satchel. “You’ll pay for that!”
“Hush, Eleanor,” an older woman chastises. “Inside voices. If you want to scream, do it on the bridge.”
The little girl bellows in protest, and the woman points a finger. “I will drag you by your ear—”
Eleanor slams her little foot onto the woman’s toes and thendashes off as the woman yelps in pain. She’s about to race after the girl, but catches sight of us.
