Maxon's POV

I lie here for a moment and watch the slow rise and fall of America's chest. Her head lays on my chest, her lips slightly parted. She looks so beautifully peaceful.

Today, she will be mine I think to myself, smiling as I slide an arm around her to pull her closer. I absently kiss her hair, sensing that she is awake.

"We could wake up like this every day," I hear myself mumble. Waking up to America is a dream. Maybe I am dreaming. Maybe I will wake up in my own bed only to realize that I have no future with her and that I will be living my days as a heartless politician, just like my father was. Maybe I will suddenly find out that every minute here is a fabricated prevarication of my own making. I could be deceiving myself.

But instead of the background blurring like a photograph out of focus, everything becomes clearer and more realistic as America says, "You're reading my mind."

I exhale, relieved. "How are you feeling, my dear?"

"I feel like I should be particularly angry at you for calling me your dear," she says coyly, poking my bare stomach.

I smile, moving to sit over her. "Fine then. My princess? My darling? My love?"

She runs her hands over my chest and my arms, and frankly, little is left of my restraint. She is driving me crazy, and I wonder if she feels the same way.

"Any of those would work," she says, smiling faintly. "What am I supposed to call you?"

I rack my brain, trying to think of something witty to say. "When I'm crowned prince, you should call me Your Royal Husbandness. That shall be the first law I authorize." She grins, and my hands brush every inch of her skin. I land on a spot on her neck, and a giggle shoots out of her mouth.

"Don't!" she warns.

I smile. "You're ticklish!"

That is enough for me to squeeze her sides until she is laughing like she cannot breathe. Even her laughter is music, a playful, lilting melody that fills the air, and I can't help but join her, because I am so, so happy.

I suddenly hear the door open, and the laughter ceases immediately. America screams, covering herself with the blanket. I look at the door and find Aspen, eyes wide and too stunned to say anything. Our eyes meet for what seems like an entire minute until America resurfaces. I suppose it's a bad image; America in her underclothes, a mere sheet to cover herself, and I in my underwear with absolutely no material to conceal me.

America looks absolutely terrified, her face meeting a shade near her messy hair.

If what I heard from America is right, Aspen let her go. Meaning Aspen wouldn't really be offended. Right?

I chuckle loudly, playing it off as nonchalance, and I guess it's genuine. I really couldn't care less at the moment. "I assure you, Leger, she's perfectly fine."

He clears his throat and nods. "Of course." And with that, he leaves, the click of the door punctuating the moment.

Frankly, I think it's a bit funny. It nearly happened to both of us after all. But America still looks terrified, mortified even. I hate seeing her this way, so I come closer to give her a hug. "Don't be so embarrassed," I say, trying to comfort her. "It's not as if we were naked. And it's bound to happen in the future."

I try my best to say it casually, but the thought nearly makes me blush.

"It's so humiliating," she wails.

Hurt hits me so suddenly in the chest, and I wince. "To be caught in bed with me?" How would this marriage work if she has such an aversion to sharing a bed with me?

She sits up abruptly. "No! It's not you. It's just, I don't know, this was supposed to be private." She lowers her head and plays with a piece of the blanket.

The pain leaves more quickly than it came, and I touch her cheek. "I'm sorry," I say, and I truly am. Here I am, thinking that she just didn't want to be seen with me when she just wanted to keep it to ourselves.

She smiles softly and a bit ruefully. "I guess I shouldn't be so alarmed. After all, people will be looking at both of us like fish in a glass bowl the second we say 'I do.'"

I frown, and she notices. "Don't be worried. It's not that big of a deal. I mean, maybe for the first few years, there'll be a lot of interruptions because all the kings and queens have had only children. Some by choice, most likely; but after the difficulty my mom had, they'll want to make sure we can even have family."

The possibility of not having a family with America actually frightens me a bit. I long for the day when I see a little girl with bright red hair or a boy with blue eyes, but really, any child of ours I will love wholeheartedly. "I'm one of five," I say silently. "That has something to do with genetics, right?"

"I really hope so," she says. "Partly because we're duty bound to produce heirs. But, Maxon, even if we weren't, I'd still want this. I'd still want you."

I smile now, the fear dissipating like vapor. "And I want you too. I want the holidays and the birthdays, the busy seasons and lazy weekends. I want peanut butter fingerprints on my desk...I do get a desk, correct?"

She giggles. "Yes, you get a desk."

"Good, because I want peanut butter fingerprints there and no place else." She laughs again. "I want inside jokes and fights and everything. I want a life with you," I conclude, and I really do. I've spent all my life trying to find out whether or not someone would love me for who I was, and not for being a rich kid or a politician's son or a potential asset. America fulfilled my unspoken wants, and she gives me everything I want because she is what I want.

"I want that too," she assures me.

I smile. "How about we make it official in a few hours?"

She shrugs, a joking sparkle in her eye. "I guess I don't have any other plans today."

I've had enough of our tedious touches, so I push her back to the bed and cover her in kisses. And she lets me. For a while, at least, until she decides that her mother should know.

She slips on her dress and notices the giant rip I made last night, and she laughs silently. "I'm not quite sure what to do with this," she says, pulling both sides together to cover some kind of indecency.

I run quickly to my closet and grab a suit coat for her. "Here, you can use this for a while. Not too suspicious, right?"

I give her one last kiss, and I find myself dreading her leaving. It's just a few hours. I do have that ring all ready with me. Just a few more hours. She shuts the door, and I get myself ready for the future ahead of us.

America's POV

I run into Aspen at an unfortunate time. His eyes are accusing almost, but not exactly. It's a protective look that makes my face flush. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

He shrugs. "It's not as if I didn't know it was coming. I mean, I did say goodbye last night. It was just a shock. I thought someone was being attacked."

"I was fine. Thank you for the concern, though."

"I just can't believe you slept with him."

I frown, crossing my arms at such an accusation. "I didn't. I promise."

He looks at the ground, then back at me, the slight fury in his eyes diminishing. "Good, because I swear to God, if he forces you into doing anything, I will somehow ship him to New Asia."

I laugh, still a little shaken up, but glad he's not angry. "I'll see you later, Aspen."

"Have fun getting ready, Mer."

I smile and start walking away when I remember. "I gave my maids the day off today," I yell over my shoulder, and I snicker when I see him immediately sprinting.

So, uh, more on Luspen tomorrow. Is that even their ship name? Idk. Those are literally the three letters I say most everyday. I just don't know anything anymore! I sleep so late and wake up early and for stupid reasons and I'm just questioning my entire existence. Like, God, why am I here?!

*sighs* If things like friends, Instagram, and Tumblr exist, I would probably be dead from exhaustion.

So how have your guys' weeks been? Or I guess entire month. I feel like I haven't update in a month. Oh, well.

You guys are awesome, and thank you so much for going on this journey with me. It is not yet done, and there will be such a plot twist at the end! That's sarcasm. Everything will go as planned, and everything will end in sunshine and love.

Right?

Wrong.

Maybe.

I'm contemplating.

Love ya!- AcademicGirl