But with Juliette—
Ella?
With her, it’s different. I never even realized just how much I was missing until we really got to know each other. She lets me talk. She doesn’t rush me. She doesn’t tell me to calm down or feed me bullshit lines or tell me everything will be fine. When I’m trying to get things off my chest she doesn’t make the conversation about her or her own problems. She understands. I can tell. She doesn’t have to say a word. I can look into her eyes and know she gets it. She gives a shit about me in a way no one else ever has. It’s the same thing that makes her a great leader: she genuinely cares about people. She cares about their lives.
“Kenji?”
Nazeera’s touching my hand again, but this time I pull away, jerking awkwardly in my seat. And when I finally look up, into her eyes—I’m surprised.
She seems genuinely worried.
“Kenji,” she says again. “You’re scaring me.”
Two
I shake my head as I stand, trying my best to look unbothered.
“It’s nothing,” I say, but I’m still staring out across the room when I say it.
J is laughing at something that pretty boy just said to her, and then he smiles, and she smiles back, and she’s still smiling when he leans in and whispers something in her ear and I watch, in real time, as her whole face turns red. And then he’s touching her, kissing her here, right in front of everyone and— I turn away sharply.
I definitely wasn’t supposed to see that.
Technically, they’re not right in front of everyone. There is no everyone. There are like five people in this room. And J and Warner are actually as far away from everyone as they could manage, tucked in a corner of the room. I’m pretty sure I just violated their privacy.
Yeah, I should definitely go to bed.
“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”
That wakes me up.
I spin around. Nazeera is looking at me like she thinks she’s some kind of genius, like she’s finally figured out the Secret Mysteries of Kenji.
As if I were that easy to understand.
“I don’t know why I didn’t see it before,” she’s saying. “You guys have such a weird, intense relationship.” She shakes her head. “Of course you’re in love with her.”
Jesus. I’m too tired for this.
I move past Nazeera, rolling my eyes as I go. “I am not in love with her.”
“I’m pretty sure I know wh—”
“You don’t know anything, okay?” I stop. Turn to face her. “You don’t know shit about me. Just like I don’t know shit about you.”
Her eyebrows fly up her forehead. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t do that,” I say, pointing at her. “Don’t pretend to be dumb.”
And I’m out the door, halfway down the dimly lit path leading to my tent, when I hear her voice again.
“Are you still mad at me?” she says. “About the thing with Anderson?”
I stop so suddenly I nearly trip. I turn around, and now I’m looking at her, and I can’t help it: I laugh out loud, and it sounds crazy. “The thing with Anderson? Are you serious? You mean the thing where he showed up, back from the dead and ready to murder all of us because you told him where we were? Or do you mean the thing where he killed Delalieu? Or wait, maybe you mean the thing where he put all of us in an asylum to rot to death—or maybe it’s the thing where you bound, gagged, drugged, and dragged me onto a plane with him all the way to the other side of the goddamn world?”
She moves lightning fast, standing in front of me in seconds. And then, fury making her voice shake: “I did what I did to save your life. I was saving all of your lives. You should be thanking me—and instead you’re standing here shouting at me like a child, when I single-handedly saved your entire team from certain death.” She shakes her head. “You’re unbelievable. You have no idea what I risked in order to make that happen, and it’s not my fault if you can’t understand.”
Silence steps between us, pushes us apart.
“You know what’s hilarious?” I shake my head, look up at the night sky. “This,” I say. “This conversation is hilarious.”
“Are you drunk?”
“Stop.” I turn back, level her with a dark look. “Stop underestimating my mind. You think I’m too dumb to understand the most basic shit about a rescue mission? Of course I understand,” I say angrily. “I get that you had to do some shady things in order to make our escape happen. I’m not angry about that. I’m angry right now because you don’t know how to communicate.”