Before (The Sensitives) - By Dawn Rae Miller Page 0,13
lays it softly onto my chest. His fingers brush my collarbone, and he jerks his hand away. A shiver ripples down my spine.
“Of course I do.”
He frowns, like my answer wasn’t what he’d hoped for. I’m not sure what Beck wanted me to say—it’s a necklace he gave me. I like it—it’s pretty.
My eyes lock onto his and I draw a ragged breath. For the first time in my life, I don’t care about the State’s rules. I want Beck to kiss me.
He leans close to me, our mouths inches apart. His warm breath fans across my face. “It looks pretty on you.”
My heart races, pumping blood faster and faster through my body, leaving a wave of heat in its path. I close my eyes, waiting for his lips to touch mine, anticipating the sensation. Waiting for everything I know we shouldn’t do but can’t help wishing we would.
At the last second, as the electricity between our skin sparks, I turn my head.
My eyes flutter open and I catch a glimmer of disappointment in his eyes before he turns on his normal bright smile.
“Can you get out?” he asks with a hint of mischief, while pinning my hands above my head.
I twist my wrists, and with one strong shove, I push him off me and throw myself on his back. Unlike everyone else, Beck’s never surprised by my strength or athleticism.
“Of course I can.” I push my face into his hair.
“Not bad, Birdie.” He stands up with me clinging to his back. He hesitates, and for a second, I think he’s going to drop me to the ground, but then he grasps my thighs and holds me tight. “We should get our breakfast.”
I’m thankful he can’t see the blush I know is creeping across my cheeks and pray he can’t feel my heart hammering against his back.
The bedroom doors of all the other students—four boys or four girls per room— are open and empty. Everyone must be at breakfast, which means Beck and I are late.
When we reach the kitchen doorway, twenty-four pairs of eyes stare at us from the tables. Fortunately, Bethina has her back to us.
Beck releases my legs, and I slide off his back and smooth my skirt. It’s my sad attempt to act like riding around on his back is completely normal and not at all borderline rule-breaking.
Rule number one: Students must not engage in any intimate activity until after their bindings.
“Will you two stop messing around and hurry up?” Bethina turns around and hands Beck a plate. Her dark hair is pulled back into a bun and her olive skin looks more ashen than normal in the dim kitchen light. “You’re going to make everyone late for school.”
Beck takes the plate. “Aw, c’mon Bethina. Don’t be mad. I was just trying to shake the nervousness out of Lark. Can’t be mad at me for that, can you?”
Bethina snaps a towel at him. “Beck Channing, I’ve never met anyone so hard to be upset with.” He grins and ducks his head in mock embarrassment. “Now, sit and eat before you really do make everyone late.”
I squeeze in between Ryker and Lina. Or more correctly, Lina begrudgingly moves so I can sit. Beck takes the spot across from me and piles his plate high with food.
“Is that all you’re eating?” He points at my plate of strawberries. “No wonder you’re so little.” He takes a bite of pancake and washes it down with some orange juice.
“I like to eat healthy.”
Beck never thinks about what he eats. If you put it in front of him, he’ll eat it without question. He turns his attention to his best friend, Maz, and falls into deep conversation. Behind them, the wall screen broadcasts the daily news – more Sensitive trials, as usual, along with a report about the Society’s planned improvements to existing security systems.
I should focus on the news, but my mind drifts back to the way Beck looked at me earlier. The disappointment in his eyes. I thought, for a moment—okay, I hoped he’d kiss me.
A sticky wetness drips between my fingers. A smashed strawberry.
Beck moves his head slightly toward me. His full lips turn upward and he winks. A blush threatens to creep up my cheeks, and I force myself to focus on the wall screen. Perhaps my assessors will test me on today’s farm reports? I need to be prepared.
As the newscaster runs through the names of students being bound this week, my eyes dart around the