Your One & Only(26)

For the first time, he felt like he had someone to talk to. He told her about the books he liked, and she would murmur in understanding, all while running her fingers through the hair on his chest, which was a never-ending fascination to her, but he didn’t mind. He told her about growing up in his cottage on the hill with Sam and his mother. He talked about his music, though her eyes drifted away on that topic, so he’d bring their conversation back to something that made her face light up again, like one of her parties or a clever experiment with food flavors. She told him about the pigs they were breeding. She and her sisters had manipulated their genes so that, when roasted, the meat would be infused with the taste of pineapple. Jack couldn’t imagine such a thing.

“You’re the prettiest Nyla,” he said.

They were in his bed with the door to his room locked, and the drifting calm had come over him. He felt like he could sleep with his arms around her forever, but he didn’t want to miss one second of being with her.

Her forehead wrinkled, and the laughter faded from her eyes. “That’s a funny thing to say. We all look alike.”

“You’re more beautiful than them.”

“Don’t say such strange things. You’re already strange enough.”

Jack quirked his mouth at her. “Okay, then. The Nylas are more beautiful than any of the other clones.”

He was pleased to see her mood lighten. “Stop it,” she said, poking him in the ribs. “And don’t say clones.” She turned solemn again. “Anyway, everyone looks the way they look, that’s all. Why would you bother comparing?”

“As long as we’re comparing, I must be the handsomest human you’ve ever met.”

“You’re also the only human I’ve met,” Nyla said, gently punching him again, but no longer irritated. She got up from the bed.

As he always did, Jack pulled her back. “No, stay longer.”

“You always say that.”

“You always stay longer when I do.”

She settled back down with her back to his chest, and he ran his fingers along her arm. They’d just Paired, and already he was aching to feel close to her again. Every time she left, it became more difficult.

“Nyla,” he said, trying not to hesitate in what he planned to say, but sometimes he couldn’t predict how she’d react. “Do you like being with me?”

“Yes,” she said, picking up his necklace from the bedside table. He always took it off now when she visited. He knew she thought it was strange for him to wear it, and he didn’t want her to think he was strange. “It’s fun, Pairing with you. You’re different from the others.” She rolled the bead in her fingers.

Jack cleared his throat, pushing away the images that came when she mentioned the others. A Gen-310 Pairing Ceremony was coming up. He knew the Nylas had hosted the last one, so she’d definitely participate in the next one. If he had his way, she’d never Pair with anyone but him. Jack wondered if that meant he loved her. Was this the feeling so many of his books dwelled on?

“I was thinking,” he said, letting his touch roam to her shoulder, feeling a slight scar at the base of her neck, shaped almost like a heart. “Maybe you don’t have to participate in the Pairing.”

Jack envisioned them spending the Pairing nights together. It would almost be like he was finally allowed to take part in the Pairing. Except now, after all these years of not being able to, he didn’t even want to. He only wanted to be with her.

“Don’t be silly,” Nyla said. “I can’t miss the Pairing.”

“But don’t you want more than this?” Jack sat up. “Why do we need to be a secret?”

He stood while she gathered her robes. She wasn’t really paying attention to him.

“Why do you wear this?” she said, dangling the bead she still held by the string. “I’ve never seen a boy wear a necklace.” She dropped it back on the table, not noticing as it rolled to the edge.

Jack’s chest tightened.

“Why would you . . .” he said, but his voice died in his throat. He bent close to her, hearing a tap tap tap as the bead fell off the string and rolled over the edge of the table. His heart went silent as it missed one beat and then tripped to a start again. He tilted her chin to the side and brushed his thumb over the heart-shaped crease of skin. “Has this always . . .” His touch wandered to her chin, her forehead, her hair. He squinted, staring intently, like he was trying to see into her mind, her heart. A feeling overcame him, making him choke on the breath he’d just taken in. “Oh, God.”

She brushed his hand away and continued fastening her robe. “What?”

He couldn’t breathe. The panic of losing his breath swelled his lungs further, and he desperately wanted his inhaler from the bedside table, but he kept his hands clutched at his sides. He refused to let her see him like that. As if it were happening to someone else, he saw his hand reach out to recover the polished bead from the floor, and he stumbled to the wall. He let his forehead rest against the cool tile. Slow and deliberate, he said, “Who are you?”

“Jack, I’m Nyla. What are you talking about?”

He squeezed his eyes shut. Breathe. Just breathe. But his lungs were filling with cotton, and he couldn’t get the breaths out.

“Nyla-314?”