Entanglement (YA Dystopian Romance) - By Dan Rix Page 0,24

dizzy flash, Aaron realized he wanted her as close to him as possible—or as far as possible. Because one dance had burned the silky feel of her body right into his skin, and that was a clear sign he couldn’t trust himself around her. It was stupid to care this much; halves were predetermined.

“We shouldn’t be doing this to each other,” he said finally, his conviction already wavering, “especially not a week out. We’ll know who it is on Saturday, so let’s just hunker down and wait.” He hated the way those words sounded.

“Did Dominic tell you to say that?” she said.

“He’s right,” said Aaron, “we’re just stringing each other along—and you should go before Clive gets back.”

“I liked you better when you didn’t listen to anybody,” she said.

“Yeah, well, I got smarter,” said Aaron, his throat tight as he held the door open for her. “Maybe I’ll see you in a week.”

Amber shrugged and sauntered through the door, flinging her hair to the side so it whipped him in the face.

“Classy,” he said.

She paused in the doorway and locked eyes with him. “You won’t,” she said.

“Won’t what?”

“Ever see me again.”

Aaron held her gaze. “Then you’re just going to have to miss me.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” she said, but instead of leaving, she just stood there—and Aaron felt the weight of their looming birthdays more than ever. Next time she would be with her half, he with his, and they wouldn’t even notice each other. Their pre-birthday fling would be as unmemorable as if it had happened in their mother’s womb. They couldn’t say goodbye like this.

Aaron shut the door, and as if the sound had freed them both, he swept forward and she collapsed into his arms, tugging his shirt to her chest.

Aaron wrapped his fingers around her hand, and she let go of his shirt to squeeze back. His lungs felt tight. It was the coolness of her skin, the bristles of electricity climbing his fingers, the shallow beat of his heart.

Staring into her green eyes, he knew they were about to kiss, and the rush made him dizzy. He could feel her heartbeat through her hand, like a butterfly’s wings. They moved closer.

But just before their lips touched, the door burst open next to them, and Clive Selavio strode into the room.

***

Aaron stepped in front of Amber to protect her. Clive, who hadn’t seen them yet, heard the movement and halted in the middle of the room, his shoulder’s flexed under his gray hoodie. He raised his head and sniffed the air, and as he faced them, Aaron caught a whiff of antiseptic—and saw why.

Blood dripped from gashes under Clive’s eyes. Dark bruises gleamed with Neosporin, polished and shiny. He had been beaten.

As Aaron watched, he touched his eye and caught a drop of blood, which crawled down his finger like a black beetle before his tongue flicked out and licked it clean. “Amber, I didn’t say you could be here,” he said.

Aaron felt her tense beside him. “Isn’t that up to Dominic?” she said.

“It’s up to me,” said Clive. “It’s what I let you do, and until you behave—”

Aaron cut him off. “Buy a pet if you want to make rules, Clive.”

Amber flashed him a warning look. “Don’t,” she said.

“You’re wasting your breath,” said Clive. “Harper doesn’t know the negative command.”

Amber glared at him. “Do you want me to get your father?” she said.

At the mention of his dad, Clive flinched. “Amber, could you do me a favor and go home?” he said.

Aaron starting rolling up his sleeves. “Wait outside,” he said to Amber. “This’ll just take a second,”

Amber watched him nervously. “Aaron, you’ll lose,” she said, and then she left.

Clive’s pale eyes tracked her out the door then flicked back to Aaron. “My father will see you now,” he said.

“What the hell happened to you?” said Aaron, rolling his sleeves back down.

Clive stepped toward him, and his eyes flashed treacherously. “I said my father will see you now. You wouldn’t want to be late for your appointment, would you?”

***

Back upstairs, Aaron watched the quiet hallway from Clive’s bedroom. His heart thundered impatiently, and Amber’s playful smile winked at him from every wall, driving him crazy.

Unable to bear it, he forced his eyes to the opposite wall, to a poster above Clive’s headboard. The famous photo of Schönbrunn Palace, Vienna. Taken 1939, when ninety thousand people packed the courtyard to learn the identity of their halves.

The first generation.

Aaron envied their pre-discovery lives. Everyone just living, loving