The Program (The Program #1)(78)
Author: Suzanne Young

His clothes lie in the grass, crumpled up. I consider hiding them, leaving him to drive home in a pair of wet boxer briefs. James is splashing, yelling in a shaky voice that he’s not even cold. I pick up his jeans and fold them over my arm, looking toward the path. But when I start to walk, something falls out of his pocket.

At first I worry that I lost his house key or something important, but then I spy an object a few feet away. When I recognize it, tingles race over my skin. I get down on my knees and crawl over to it. I drop James’s pants and pick up what I’d so nearly lost.

It’s a ring. A pink plastic heart similar to the one I’d found in my mattress. James must have given me the other one, and it must have meant something for me to save it. For a second there’s a hint of a memory, just a flash of me stuffing it into my bed, but I can’t hold on to it. Instead I start to cry. I clutch the ring to my chest and then fold over, my cheek on the grass.

I’m not complete. I’m missing a huge piece of my heart, memories of things I must have said and done, things I can’t have back. I want them, all of them. I want to be myself again.

“Sloane?” James’s voice is frantic. Drips of river water hit me before he kneels down on the grass beside me. His arms wrap around me, his skin cold against mine.

“This ring,” I say, holding it up to him. “Where did you get it?”

“After we texted last night, I went to Denny’s to sulk. I saw it in a gum ball machine there.” He reaches to take it from me, possessive of it. “I felt bad for the things I said to you, and when I saw it . . . I don’t know. I had to get it for you.” He studies my expression. “Is that dumb?”

I shake my head. “No. You’ve . . . I think you’ve given it to me before. A different ring.” I smile, wiping at my cheeks. “But just as cheesy.”

James’s eyebrows pull together as he thinks, looking down at the ring in his hand. Then he takes my finger and slides the ring on. We both sit there, staring at it, trying to decide if it belongs there or not. When James and I look at each other again, we’re both confused, unable to remember why this ring is so important to us.

“Can I do something?” James asks, still holding my hand.

“What?”

“Can . . .” He pauses. “Can I kiss you, Sloane?”

That was so not what I was expecting him to say. I don’t answer at first, and James drops my hand and crawls closer to me, his face near mine as he’s poised almost over me. My heart races as I stare back at him. He’s so beautiful.

“Please?” he whispers. “I really want to.”

Something about the way he watches me—a knowing look that seems to see into my heart. “I don’t know,” I say, my chest tightening as I let my feelings for him spread over me, leaving me unprotected and vulnerable. His expression grows serious, as if I’m refusing him. But then I put my hand on his cheek. The hand that wears his ring.

“Okay, yes,” I say.

James smiles quickly, and then leans forward to press his mouth to mine, laying me back in the grass as he kisses me passionately. His lips are hot, and I dig my fingers into the bare skin of his back, kissing him like I’ve missed him my whole life. They way he moves, tastes—it’s all so familiar, and yet . . . not.

The sun lowers in the sky, the temperature dropping further. But it doesn’t make us stop. Every second lasting both forever and not long enough. And when we’re thoroughly exhausted, still dressed, James collapses next to me, laughing out loud.

“This is the first time in almost three months that I’ve felt anything at all,” he says.

“Was it good?”

“Oh, yes. That was all sorts of good.”

I slap his chest. “I meant the feelings. Were they good?”

James moves then, rolling so that I’m under him. He brushes my hair away from my face. He’s tender and defenseless, as if every part of him is exposed. He’s not the ass**le I thought he was, not even close. What I see is someone broken and fierce. Someone loyal and hardened. Someone who could belong to me completely, and me to him.

James smiles as he traces his finger over my mouth. “I think . . .” He stops and looks into my eyes, his stare arresting, pinning me in place. “I think I’m in love with you,” he whispers. “Is that crazy?”

His words strike my heart, and the ache that’s been a constant in my chest goes away completely. I lick my lips and smile. “So crazy.”

“Then I guess I love you madly.” And then he leans down and kisses me again.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

AS WE HEAD BACK TO TOWN WE’RE QUIET, BUT NOT uncomfortably so. James keeps my hand in his lap, playing with my fingers. His every touch is gentle, yet possessive. I’m sure he feels the same way I do. As if we’ve done this before.

I think about telling him about our past, but decide against it. I’m not sure how to say it without sounding like I made this happen somehow. Manipulated him. I don’t want him to think that. I want this all to be real.

“What do we do now?” I ask him, because I know one of us has to ruin the moment. “My parents will never let me date, and definitely not you. And then there’s The Program. I may not have a handler anymore, but Kevin was pretty adamant that I stay away from—”

James’s jaw tightens, but then he shakes his head. “I don’t care what they think. I don’t care what anyone thinks.”

“They can send you away again.”

“I’m not scared.”

Worry pulses though me, and I lean over, putting my chin on his shoulder. “What if I’m scared for you?”

James looks sideways at me. “Aw . . . look at you being all sweet. Told you you’d be impressed.” He kisses me quickly and then goes back to the road, as if that’s the end of the conversation.

“James,” I say, feeling tension starting to settle in my shoulders. We’ve been gone most of the day. It was reckless. I’d pushed the idea away until now, enjoying the freedom of being with James instead. But now I know how stupid it was.

I check my phone and see that I’ve missed four calls from my house and one from a private number. “My parents have been looking for me,” I say.

Something in the tone of my voice makes him turn. I watch as his sun-kissed skin pales, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel. “What do you think they’ll do?” he asks.