The Final Six (The Final Six #1) - Alexandra Monir Page 0,80
all we have—
Footsteps. We spring apart, the sound outside the hatch door plunging us back down to earth. I jump out of my seat, hoping our flushed faces don’t give us away, as General Sokolov bursts into the capsule.
“Come on, you two, let’s go! I have another sim to get through.”
She doesn’t need to tell us twice. Naomi and I hurry to the hatch door, and right before I step through it, the general turns to meet my eyes, a warning in her gaze.
But now Dianna Dormer and Ami Nakamura are climbing into the capsule, and General Sokolov’s attention shifts away from me, onto them.
“You don’t think she saw, do you?” I murmur as Naomi and I step back onto the Mission Floor.
Her blush deepens.
“It looked like the cameras stopped rolling once we unplugged from the sim, so I think we’re safe,” she whispers. “But . . . she might have guessed something was up when she walked in.”
“I’ll be more careful next time.”
As soon as the words come out of my mouth, I cringe—was that too bold of me, assuming there will even be a next time? What if she just got caught up in the moment and doesn’t want anything more? But then she glances up at me with a shy smile.
“This is really happening, isn’t it?”
My chest swells. I lean in, whispering one last reply before we join the rest of the finalists. “I think it’s been happening since the day we met.”
I can’t believe this is my life.
The thought plays on a loop in my mind the rest of the day and into the night—as Naomi and I share covert smiles across the floor throughout training, as we float into the cafeteria on a high from our secret. I can’t believe she feels the way I do.
Now that the teams are disbanded, we’re thankfully no longer bound to our old table assignments—meaning we don’t have to endure another meal with Beckett Wolfe. We join a table with Jian, Sydney, Dev, and Ana, but I’m hardly aware of the conversation. I’m too distracted by the feel of her soft hand, just barely resting against mine under the table.
We spend the after-dinner hour curled up in an empty corner of the library, Naomi leaning against me as she scribbles a bunch of figures into a notebook.
“What are you working on?” I ask, peering over her shoulder.
“I’m double-checking the algorithm coding I have to enter in order to connect my tablet to . . . you know.” She gives me a little wink, lowering her voice. “A certain machine.”
“Oh.” I feel like someone’s splashed cold water on my face. “You mean, you still plan on following through with that?”
“Of course.” She glances up at me with a bemused expression. “Why would I change my mind?”
Because now you have more reason to stay, I answer silently. Because maybe it’s no longer worth the risk of getting caught.
But I don’t say any of it out loud. I just watch her brain at work, her face scrunching up in concentration as her pencil flies across the page.
I walk her to her door at curfew, peering around the hallway to make sure we’re alone before saying goodnight. I’m aching to kiss her again, but the blinking red light of the security camera overhead stops me.
“Hey, I have that book you wanted to borrow,” Naomi says loudly, flashing a brief glance at the camera. “Come in for just a quick sec.”
My insides thrill as she opens the door to her room, and I follow her inside. As soon as the door shuts behind us, she pulls me toward her, and I pin her against the wall, our hands interlacing as I move my lips across hers. She lets out a sigh, and it’s almost unbearable, how good this feels.
“I should go,” I whisper, though every part of me wants to stay. “Where’s that book I’m supposed to be borrowing?”
Naomi reaches behind her, grabbing the title on her nightstand, a doorstopper-size memoir by Dr. Greta Wagner.
“Just a little light reading, huh?” I say with a grin.
“Yeah, well. It’s my favorite, so keep it safe.”
“If it’s your favorite, then I’ll do you one better—I’ll actually read it.” I lean in closer, brushing my lips against hers one last time. “See you tomorrow.”
“See you then.” But a shadow crosses her face as I pull away.
“What is it?”
“Nothing. I guess—it’s just . . .” Her shoulders sag. “Why couldn’t I have met you any other way?”