I'm in shock at the breakfast table. "Next time you should stick around a little longer." I watch Caleb as a he walks away, my mouth hanging open. The knot in my stomach is back and I think about how I lay awake last night, imagining what would have happened if I hadn't turned and walked away, if I had stayed to see his long, thin legs under the shapeless trousers, watched him standing naked under the cold spray, what would have happened if I had joined him, whether it would have been his long fingers, instead of my own that slid up and down my cock, whether it would have been his shoulder, rather than my own fist, that I bit into to keep from calling out.
And now I'm hard at the breakfast table. This is not my best morning. I look down at the cold, watery eggs on my plate, try to think of something that isn't the smooth, taut skin of Caleb's stomach.
Caleb still hasn't quite left the dome. He's taller then everyone else by several inches and he's easy to spot. The knot in my stomach is on fire. I'm not going to spend another night lying awake wondering what the stiff thinks of me.
I leave my tray on the table and push through the crowd lining up for breakfast. As when I do anything that comes naturally to me, there are murmurs of surprise and frustration. I don't care. I try to keep Caleb in my sightline but I don't catch up with him until we're almost back to the dorms. He's passing a storage shed, and he doesn't know I'm behind him, but something makes him turn.
Before he can turn his head all the way around to look at me, I reach for him. I grab him by the shirt and push him through the door to the storage shed. "Peter?" I can hear the fear in his voice and I hate it. I turn away from him and close the door to the shed. Inside, it's dim and cool, and it smells like earth and rust. My eyes pan over a rack of tools as I adjust to the dim light. I look back at Caleb, his back to the wall. "Peter, please." There's an actual tremor in his voice. He's terrified.
"What do you think is going to happen?"
He looks at me. "I don't know. Four told me-"
"Four told you what?" I can hear the way my voice sounds, like a bark, like a warning. My mind is racing though all of the horrible things that Four could have told Caleb, all the things I've done, the kind of person that I truly am, laid bare. I can't stand to look into Caleb's eyes, so I stare at the ground. Caleb is a good person. He's smart and beautiful and his sister loves him. She would never let something like me happen to him. I'm someone capable of maiming rivals and brutalizing the weak and attempted murder. Those kinds of things are outside of Caleb's experience, and that's how they should stay.
"He didn't tell me anything." Out of the corner of my eye, I think I see that he reaches for me, but his arm drops before I can turn to see it properly. Maybe I imagined it. "What happened between you? Why are they so suspicious of you?"
I laugh. "Suspicious? Is that you trying to appease me or refusing to believe that your sister is capable of hatred?"
"I don't know if I'm an authority on what Beatrice is capable of. And I don't think she or Four are authorities on what you are capable of."
I look at him, and there is such gentleness in his eyes. I want to bask in this, in his acceptance. But he doesn't know what he's accepting, what he's forgiving me for. I can't keep him in the dark.
"I tried to kill her. Your sister." I don't try to hold his gaze. I don't want to watch the tenderness disappearing from his expression. "Four caught me, and he stopped me."
I curl my hands into fists to keep them from trembling. "So I guess they have some authority, after all." My throat is so dry. I didn't realize how much I had riding on this, on Caleb's approval of me, on his kindness and his friendship.
I force myself to look into his eyes. They're filled with tears. Beyond that I can't tell. Is it Pity? Confusion? Anger? There's nothing there I want to see. "I'm sorry Caleb-" my voice catches in my throat and I am filled with self loathing. I want to scream and hit things. I want to fight with someone. I want to break someone's nose. I have a very specific image of Four's nose cracking under my fist. I can imagine his blood on my knuckles. I can't do any of these things, so I cough to clear my throat. "I didn't mean to scare you". I unclench my trembling hands, open the door to the shed, and I leave Caleb behind, walk out into the blinding sunlight.