His lips move on mine, and suddenly; I can't think, I can't breathe. All I know is that he's kissing me and I don't want him to stop. I run my hands through his dark hair, pulling him closer. His lips are soft, though I can feel where his lip is slightly bruised from earlier. He tastes like peppermint, and like chocolate chip cookies. He kisses me again and again, more insistent than before. I reciprocate, my insistence matching his.
The training room door bursts open, and we both break apart startled. "What the hell?" John swears as Marina and Eight look tentatively at Nine and I through the doorway. We're both breathing hard, as our bodies suddenly find the need for oxygen. My face starts burning up. Eight grins sheepishly, while Marina just stares wide-eyed at both us. "Should we come back another time?" He asks, unable to keep a broad grin from spreading across his face.
John is looking at me, his eyes a storm of emotion but the rest of his face unreadable. I blush harder, and I feel a slight twinge in my chest, then it goes away. I stand up abruptly, and leave the training room, the only sound is my bare feet padding across the padded mats that cover the floor. Eight and Marina move aside, and I pass in between them, hoping that they can't hear my heart beating wildly out of control. I steal a glance back at Nine, and he grins. Oh Lorien. He can hear it.
I turn and run down the hallway heading for the room that Marina, Sarah, Ella, and I share. I ungracefully fling myself onto one of the beds. What on Lorien was I doing? My brain feels fuzzy, and I hate it and it's somehow all his fault. I push the memory of kissing him far, far away into the back of my head with cobwebs and dust bunnies. I don't even want to acknowledge that I kissed him, let alone that I liked it. That I liked it a lot more than I should have. A soft knock comes at my door. Please Lorien don't let it be Nine, or John. Or Ella, her sweet head doesn't need to be bothered by the likes of teenage drama, especially not mine. "Ummm, Six? Are you in there?" Its Marina, thank Lorien. "Yeah, I'm in here." She tentatively opens the door, looking nervous and a little unsure.
"Hey Six" she says shyly. "Hi" I say back, raising myself into a crisscross position on the bed. "Well, I was just wondering, you know…" She pauses, searching for words. "What happened just now? In the training room, just now with you and Nine?" She blurts. Nevermind. I want Ella. Marina takes a seat on the bed next to me, looking expectantly at me. Way to be blunt about it, Marina. "I don't really know what happened, to be honest" I feel a blush crawl up my cheeks. Marina cocks her head to the side, looking at me with raised eyebrows. "You were kissing Nine." She says it carefully, watching my reaction like a hawk. "Well yes, I did kiss him…" I say pausing. "But I didn't mean to! He kissed me first!" I tell her insistently. "But you enjoyed it" She says grinning like the Cheshire Cat. That's it. "I DID NOT ENJOY IT!" I yell at her flushing scarlet, and the rest of the penthouse goes eerily quiet. Shit.
She looks at me shocked, her eyes wide. I try and smile at her, but it comes out more like a scowl. "Good night Marina" I say, the venom in my voice evident. I move from the bed, and get out of there, slamming the door behind me for good measure. I need to get out of here. Out of this goddamn penthouse, Chicago, where Nine brought us. But I can't. Now that we're together, the charm is broken. I used to have the charm's guarantee that the Mogs couldn't kill me, because they couldn't kill us out of order. But if I go solo again, it would be only a matter of time before they would kill me. So my only escape is the penthouse roof.
I turn into the main room, to be greeted by the curious stares of Four, Eight, Sarah, and Ella. Nine is nowhere in sight. Four gets up from the couch, and closes the distance between us. He grabs my wrist, his eyes staring into mine. "We need to talk" he says angrily, eyes blazing. I yank my wrist away. "Don't touch me" I snarl and I turn away from him towards the balcony.
I close the sliding glass door behind me, feeling the wind whipping my hair against my face. I walk to the edge of the balcony, where the fire escape hangs a few feet away from the balcony. I position myself on the edge of the balcony, and leap into empty space.
I fall down into the night, and somehow I grasp one of the iron rails of the fire escape. My brain switches back to survival mode, to all those months by myself, and the months I spent in the Mogodorian prison cell. I flip myself over the rail, feeling a rush of adrenaline. A small cut opens in my palm, spewing blood. Doesn't matter though. I've had worse than that. It'll heal up soon anyway. Just another perk of being Lorien.
I run up the fire escape, leaping over the more rusted steps. I vault over the last 5 stairs, and land on the roof, my senses on high. The roof is empty, but I can still hear the rumble of traffic and see the city lights spread below me. As much as I hate Chicago, the city is pretty from up here. On the ground, the Chicago is too much of a sensory overload. I nearly had a panic attack when we entered the city. I just couldn't calm down. Katarina's words kept playing in my head "There's too many variables in the city. Mogs can blend in just as well as us in the cities. Don't ever go into a big city unless you don't want to get out alive." But up here, everything seems to be so far away, Mogs, Lorien, Nine, everything.
I dangle my legs over the side of the building, looking down at all the humans and the lights. So beautiful. The clanging metal of the fire escape bring me back to myself.
My brain instantly reacts. It must be the Mogs. They've found us, despite all of Nines assurances that we would be fine. I leap to my feet, suddenly painfully aware of how close I am to the edge of the rooftop. I move closer to the middle of the roof, getting into defensive position facing the fire escape. The clanging continues. My hands make fists, my heart pounding in my ears. Please, please let the rusty stairs give way. Then a shadow leaps to the rooftop. It straightens, growing taller.
"Six?" It's Nine.
