I told myself that I would reread America's books before writing this fic but I've only made it up to The Elite and argued that it's enough since this one-shot technically happens before The One. I did go back to it after finally rereading The One.
I hope you enjoy :)
Not the One:
America knew at the start of The Elite that Maxon wanted her.
He told her so … sort of. He always said he liked her without exactly saying he liked or even loved her. She's seen it through every romantic gesture or beating around the bush. If he really told her, then she would've remembered it.
And then he's been spending so much time with the other girls, especially Kriss, despite all of Maxon's efforts to keep her around. It made her insanely jealous, more than she would want to admit to herself let alone to anyone else. The other girls would understand but she wouldn't dare speak of it with them. Of course, America understands that he wanted to give them a fair chance and not look like he has a favourite. Besides, Kriss is a great contender and would be an even greater Queen. It didn't help that Maxon thought she felt secure in her standing with him and that she reciprocated feelings.
He was scared she would change her mind.
America didn't know how to feel when King Clarkson told her that the other girls were making physical advances towards Maxon, that she was too plain and ordinary to be at their level. She doubted Maxon would go that far and that King Clarkson was intimidating her into packing her bags, but she couldn't get rid of the uncertainty building in her chest and making it hard to breathe.
Was Maxon right for wanting her?
-o-
America has never been seductive or had a game plan on being intimate with Maxon. If she simply looked interested, then she could keep the standing Maxon says she has.
For a first attempt at being alluring, she would say it worked when she walked into the dining hall wearing that deep red, strapless and backless gown. All eyes turned on her and Maxon stopped eating to tug his ear. He wants her.
After that, she wasn't sure what to do. She lit candles in her room, got a book, and sat at the edge of her bed. Everything seemed to be going to plan when he entered her room and his gaze traveled up her exposed leg.
America wasn't sure what the next step was but they were both now sitting at the edge of her bed and he takes the lead. His hand wraps around her exposed back and she tries to hide her body tensing when she feels his body against hers. She distracts herself by looking into his eyes that are already staring into hers.
She needs some control at this moment.
Maxon leans in closer, nearly grazing her cheek with his jaw as a tease. It barely traced her skin as she feels him sniff the perfume on her neck before kissing the curve leading to her shoulder. America slowly inhales as he pulls her closer, having been encouraged by his touch.
Maxon raises his head, staring at her enticingly as their lips rest millimeters apart. She wants to be kissed, to melt into him as he unzips her dress.
"You still need more time?" Maxon asks, his voice low as a playful grin dances its way onto his lips.
"I'll need some more time to answer that first," she teases in a whisper.
Is she still scared? She isn't sure anymore.
Maxon kisses her earlobe, right below her earring and she rests a hand on his knee that's bent on the bed between them. Their signal of wanting to spend time together slowly evolving into more.
They both need this moment alone. King Clarkson has been pressuring him to end the Selection and they haven't seen each other in a while.
America wraps her arms around his neck, scooting closer to him until their bodies touch. She angles her face down until he gets the message and kisses her. She smiles against his mouth. They've done this enough times where it's normal as if they're coming back to where they should be.
Kissing him isn't like anything else she's ever done.
Eventually, Maxon eases them further onto her bed so they're no longer teetering at the edge. Nobody's expected to bother them so they're basically alone.
His hand holds her exposed thigh through the slit of her dress, nearly crossing past the hem and onto the hidden parts of her body. His touch is warm against her skin and America never wants to let him go.
"Is this okay?" He asks as his eyes search hers.
"Yes," America responds as she pulls him back in.
America lies back as Maxon is on his side beside her, arching over her body.
He knows her character but she wonders if she could be a princess, his princess. She missed out on so much to be here and she has nothing to give him in return. All she could do is stay. For him, for her family, her maids - all those who have hope in her. They believe in her.
She wouldn't have been surprised if Maxon already proposed to her, but did that mean she was ready to marry him? If he asked her on Halloween as he had planned, she would've said yes. America knows that with the growing rebel attacks it would be safer and wiser to end The Selection, but could it end with her?
Forget being his princess. Could she be his Queen?
The Selection changed America. From taking care of her family, she was now being waited on and pampered, spoiled, even. Would Maxon have even liked her back when she was a Five? Even if she doesn't end up with him, she could never return to whom she was before since she's now a Three.
The only way she and Maxon could've been brought together was with The Selection, something she wanted no part in. If she never entered and someone else in this running became her new sovereign, then she wouldn't have spared it much thought. It's not like she paid Maxon much attention before being drawn.
America would marry Maxon for Maxon Schreave, not the crown. But are the two mutually exclusive?
She tugs at the buttons at his shirt, wanting to tear them open but keeps her grip until he allowed her to peek again at the secret she swore to take to his grave. She's unbuttoned his shirt in the safe room when the rebels attacked following their philanthropy presentations. His chest was sculpted but streaked with fresh, slick, and sticky blood.
America can picture them as if she saw them yesterday, imagining them as if she's seeing them right now under his shirt. They'd be healed scars now, scabbed over with new and untouched skin trying to cover up what will never be hidden.
He winced and hissed back then, cursing in pain when she first touched him back then. The marks he bore for her and she almost threw that away.
America wants to look at them again. Scars aren't imperfections. They're stories and memories on his skin. How badly she wants to trace them gently with her fingertips, with gentle kisses to try and heal the whippings he took for her.
Even if they don't end up together, she'll forever be marked on his skin. He'd die for her, using his last breath to tell her he loves her even if she wasn't there to hear him.
Admittedly, they've grown complicated the longer this game goes on. They've played through waves of good moments, happy times where they could envision each other exchanging vows, and then they'd be arguing as if they were never in bliss. America knows she has to rebuild that trust with him without knowing how long that honeymoon phase - coy choice of words - would last.
If they wanted something real, some type of a happily ever after, then they have so much work to do.
Maxon parts from the kiss, taking America by surprise. Her mind takes her to places her body can't. Her thoughts will try and convince her that they know best and better than her heart and soul. It forgets they all work as a whole.
He holds her hands clasped on his buttons with both of his. He doesn't encourage her but doesn't unbutton for her. Both breathe heavily as they hold each other in place, close to each other. Neither let go first because they're not sure how much the other person needs it.
"Just tell me you feel the same way," Maxon whispers, nearly pleading for her. "Tell me, America, and you'll be my queen."
America sighs, wanting to let go of his shirt but can't. She grins a little. "You still have a lot of eligible queens out there. I'm not the one."
Maxon nods but a grin on his face confuses her. "You didn't tell me you didn't feel the same way."
"You haven't directly told me either. Maybe I am The One or maybe I'm not. We'll find out soon enough."
I didn't expect this to be more emotional. I blame the song choices for the session. Lay All Your Love on Me was the first half and then Save Your Tears was the rest.
Thank you to anyone who has read this story. Please let me know what you thought. If you have a story idea that you want me to write or a story that you want me to beta, don't be afraid to ask!
~ MysteryGal5