Disclaimer: The Selection Trilogy belongs to Kiera Cass.

Aspen's POV

The palace gets a little boring after some time. Everything seems like the same hallway with glittering chandeliers and expensive paintings. I wander the hallways with no definite destination nor purpose. I find a door cracked open, and I'm surprised there are no guards outside. I take a peek inside and there are guards everywhere.

I catch words of the conversation. I can tell it's a meeting I'm not supposed to know about, but a particular sentence makes me want to smash every china vase in this place. The Selection isn't a lottery at all. They hand-picked the men for this damn thing. I'm furious. So what does that make me? Am I the joke candidate? The one that tricks people into thinking that this is by chance?

God, I can't believe I was such an idiot. This is almost as bad as finding out my little brother was whipped for stealing bread. I walk back to the Men's Parlor and see Carter step out of it with Maxon.

I beckon them over and lead them to a deserted-enough hallway. "Aspen, what's going on?" Carter asks. Maxon has the same question in his eyes.

"I was taking a walk in the halls, and I heard the king say that the Selection isn't a lottery," I explain.

"Wait, so they chose us based on our pictures and applications?" Carter asks.

Maxon awkwardly puts his hands in his hands. "Maxon, did you know about this?" I ask.

He looks outside the window. "Yes, I did. My father's a politician, and he wanted to give me every advantage possible. If it was a lottery, why is there the need to ask your talents and the amount of foreign languages you speak?"

"I can't believe I didn't notice," I mutter.

"It's fine, Aspen," Maxon says. "This just means they saw potential in you. I mean, if anything, this makes you more desirable."

"Or I could be the joke candidate that makes the Selection look well-rounded," I reply.

"Hey, what does that mean for me?" Carter says.

"It doesn't matter," Maxon says. "Everyone here is eligible for the princess."

"But some have advantages," I say pointedly to Maxon.

"Hello, Sirs," a female voice says.

Shit.

The three of us bow. "Princess America," we all say.

"How are you three doing today?" She takes turns hugging the three of us.

"We're doing alright," Carter says with an effortless smile.

"That's great. Hey, the Report is in an hour, so I suggest you guys get ready."

We murmur agreements and she laughs. "I'll see you boys later."

And she leaves.

Maxon's POV

This is the first Report where we actually have to talk. I'm not that nervous about it. Gavril's just going to ask me questions, and I'll answer them. Right?

America glances at me from the stage and she smiles. I smile back and subtly tug my ear. She does the same, and I'm more than excited to get the interviews over.

After Carter, I'm called to the stage. Gavril shakes my hand. "Sir Maxon, how are you this evening?"

"I'm doing well, Gavril. How are you?"

"Splendid. So let's dive right in; how is your stay at the palace?"

"It's been magnificent, Gavril. The palace is almost as beautiful as the princess." I see America blush a little.

"Beautiful, eh?" Gavril says, interested. "Tell me, what else do you think about the princess?"

"America is very kind." Everyone gasps and I realize I'd been too careless. I said her name without any formality!

"I assume you're close with 'America' then?"

I chuckle, embarrassed. "Yes, I, um..." I chuckle again.

"Honestly, Sir Maxon. What do you think of the princess?"

America looks at me, eager to see what I have to say about her. "I think Princess America has a good head on her shoulders. She's kind and smart and beautiful. She has been one of my closest friends in this competition. She'll make a wonderful and brilliant ruler."

The audience is quiet for a while to absorb my words. I'm afraid America will be appalled, but it's quite the opposite. "Thank you, Sir Maxon."

"It's been a pleasure, Gavril." We shake hands and the cameraman yells, "Cut!"

I rush to my room because I remember America's meeting me. The last time I talked to her privately had been two nights ago when we tugged our ears during dinner. I'm excited to see her again. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't falling for her. I fell for her like I fell from a building; hard and fast. And the pain of seeing her with any other man hurts like I landed on the concrete.

The knock on the door finally comes, and I open it.

America's POV

"Hello, my dear," he says with a smirk.

I laugh and he leads me to the balcony. I breathe in the fresh winter air. I'm regretting I don't have a wrap with me right now.

Maxon breaks the comfortable silence by smacking his forehead. "I am so sorry I called you America in front of national television."

I laugh at how embarrassed he is. "Maxon, we've been calling each other by our first names so regularly that it was bound to slip out."

I shiver and he says, "Are you cold?" He doesn't wait for my response as he puts his suit coat around my shoulders.

"Thank you," I mumble.

"Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?" he says, wonder filling his voice.

I hit his arm. "Shut up, Maxon."

"I'm serious!" he says. "You could wear a potato sack and still look lovely."

I like how Maxon makes me feel normal, like we are of the same level and that we are equal. "Did you mean what you said a while ago?" I ask after a while.

"About you?" he asks. I nod. "Of course. I don't lie often. America, you are kind but a bit on the temperamental side if you ask me. In a good way, of course. I remember what you told me about kneeing Jordan."

I cover my face with my hands. "Ugh, don't remind me. I can't handle this many men!"

He laughs, a whole sound coming from deep within him. "One can never help being born into perfection," he says, mock flipping his hair, as if his hair was long enough to flip.

I giggle. "No, I don't suppose you can help it." I glance out at the gardens and appreciate how beautiful it looks at night. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Maxon looking at me intently. I turn my face, and I'm suddenly surprised at how close he is, close enough to kiss me.

I'm even more shocked when he does.

I pull away and take a step back.

He takes a step as well and mumbles, "Sorry."

"What are you doing?" I ask in a shocked whisper.

"I thought you actually liked me. And I said I'd be here for you as a friend, but I thought you knew I liked you...and I thought that maybe I could make my move even though you're the princess, and that was my first kiss, but I should have remembered you're still the princess...I'm sorry." He looks at me, a wildfire of a blush on his face. "Was it that bad? I'm sorry. I've never done that before...I'm sorry, America."

I try to wipe whatever expression is on my face. Maxon looks mortified. But a warmth fills me up as realization dawns on me that he wants his first kiss to be with me.

"That was my first kiss too," I say shyly. He lets out a little gasp as I step up to him and rub my hand across his forehead.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"I think we can do better."

"America, I don't think you can change history." Still, his expression is hopeful.

"Sure we can," I say. "Besides, who'd ever know about it but you and me?"

We look at each other for a moment, staying that way, as if moving an inch would break this moment. I see a cautious confidence creep on his face. "One can never help being born into perfection," I whisper, repeating what he said.

He wraps an arm around my waist so that we're facing each other. His nose tickles mine, as well as his slow, warm breath against my mouth.

"No, I don't suppose you can," he whispers on my lips.

With his hand on my cheek, he lowers his lips to mine and gives me the faintest whisper of a kiss.

The tentativeness of this all makes me feel as beautiful as Maxon says I am. That rare moment comes when I actually feel like a princess without having to see myself wearing a tiara.

Maxon makes me feel as if he's the prince and I'm the lucky girl.

After a moment, he pulls back and says quietly, "Was that better?"

I can only nod. He looks as if he's on the verge of doing a flip. My heart feels a similar feeling. It's that same feeling I felt after my date with Maxon, and it's the same feeling I have every time I see him.

"I know that there are fourteen other men fighting for you in this palace, and I won't hesitate in saying that you must have some sort of feelings for them as well."

I stay silent as he continues. "I know that one of them would be more suited beside you, ruling this country. But I just want to know if there is one small chance, one possibility..."

Almost so quickly it frightens me, I can see this man ruling Illéa by my side. But I could also see some of the other guys ruling with me. I don't want to be leading Maxon on if that possibility of my picking him is nonexistent. But as it is, the possibility stands true.

"Yes, Maxon," I whisper. "It's possible."

Aww they kissed. I took some lines from the Selection, and I don't mean to steal anything. At all. Promise.

What did you guys think of this chapter? *bites nails nervously*

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