The most difficult thing about this fic is I have to stop WRITING it to allow me time to EDIT it. It is VERY fun to write. Currently I'm working on Chapter Eight and I can already tell that's going to be my favorite one so far.

I thought I didn't like this chapter but it's actually not so bad! Next week I'll probably post 2 chapters on this story (I have no ideas for the one shot collection so it would kind of make up for that) because I ACTUALLY don't like Chapter Five. Six is much better.

I just have to, you know, actually get the editing done. Trust me; you want nothing to do with my first drafts.

There had to be something wrong with me. I started the day avoiding Kile like a disease, made up and made out with him somewhere in the middle, then ended the day playing Scrabble with both our families like we hadn't just been all over each other. Normal, well-adjusted people did not do that.

It was best not to think about it for too long. Perhaps it was wrong for Kile and I to take that kind of comfort in each other (he'd just gone through a breakup; I had my own problems) but it also worked really, really well. When he was kissing me like that, as desperate and all-over-the-place as our kiss at the wedding, just stone-cold sober this time, it was impossible to think of falling behind or the various ways I'd screwed up my life recently. Actually, it was impossible to think of anything at all.

If it was wrong, I didn't care. It was temporary; in less than a week, Kile would be gone again, and really, it hardly mattered how we spent one week of our time. It didn't have to mean anything, and we didn't have to talk about it. It went without saying: we would enjoy our time together (make of that what you will) then go on with our lives as usual.

Not that I was exactly thrilled with "my life as usual". Ugh. This was exactly why I needed the powerful distraction of Kile. I wasn't using him—well, maybe I was, a little. But he was using me right back. He was my distraction; I was his rebound. All was entirely fair and above-board.

Aside from the fact that we'd voiced very little of that out loud. To be fair, our mouths had been busy.

Heat flooded my face just remembering it. Wrong, wrong, wrong, the voice in my head whispered, but another voice, just as insistent, begged for more, more, more.

When I heard a knock at my door, I actually hoped it was Kile, proving how down bad I was. "Come in!" I called, adjusting my hair one last time.

What's the opposite of the guy you're secretly hooking up with for purely physical reasons? It is your dad. "Morning, Eady. You look nice."

My green sweater and black skirt were not meant to catch his eye. "Thanks. I figured, back to work today…"

"What's the rush?" Dad asked. "Take some time to relax. Enjoy the holiday."

I shrugged; it was just the way I did things. If I wasn't throwing myself at Kile Woodwork (seriously, I needed to stop doing that) I was throwing myself into work.

Dad went on. "There's one work thing I want to talk to you about, though. Kaden and Josie aren't ready for the world to find out about their pregnancy yet. Would you mind doing a little something to keep the spotlight off them?"

"What, do you want me to have another Selection?"

"Ha ha, no. But you're actually not that far off."

Dad reminded me how excited Gavril had been to have Kile on the Report and suggested we invite the rest of my former Elite back for the next show. I agreed without hesitation. Now that Kile and I had reconciled (if that was even the right word), I was on good terms with all six of them. "Next Friday is New Year's Eve. We'll have to have a party."

"Ahren and Camille leave the next day. It can be a farewell party for them too."

I assumed—did not ask—that Kile would be leaving on that same flight. I nodded as if that knowledge had no effect on me. "Perfect. I'll take care of the planning."

"Camille would probably love to help."

I agreed to that too. "I'll talk to her. And call my Elite."

"Sounds like you have it all under control."

It was one of those things that easily could've been really weird, calling up five of my exes and inviting them to stay at my house. If I was anyone else, and we'd parted under any other circumstances, it probably would have made me uncomfortable, but I didn't hesitate to make any of the calls. I already kept fairly regular contact with most of my former suitors, which, again, could have been really weird but wasn't.

Hale and Ean accepted my invitation eagerly. Gunner was more stoic about it, but he would be there. Fox had to be instructed not to arrive five days early, and Henri promised to bring cake. Also, his fiancée.

I considered inviting Erik, too. As Henri's translator, he'd been almost as involved in the Selection as the rest of them. I ultimately decided not to, and it was unlikely anyone would actually miss him.

I obviously wasn't going to call Kile when his room was just a couple doors down from mine. Was that just an excuse to see him again? Maybe, but I wasn't going to admit that out loud. I also wasn't going to admit to being nervous about seeing him again. I didn't actually know where I stood with him—the first downside I noted to not talking about it.

I forced myself not to think about it. Thinking about it was too likely to result in me deciding this, meaning everything, was a bad idea. For once in my life, I had to step back and just let things happen instead of planning it down to the minute. I knocked on Kile's door.

Even though Kile had only been back for a few days, he'd already made a mess of his room. He invited me in, and I had to step over an open suitcase and two pairs of shoes. All his desk drawers were open, papers strewn across the top. "You're designing something?" I guessed.

He shook his head. "Just cleaning up. Not that it really looks any better yet. All this stuff has just been sitting here for the last five years."

I felt a twinge. "Are you getting rid of it?"

"That remains to be seen."

It made sense that Kile would clean out his old room. Five years was a long time; he was obviously settled in his new place in Bonita. We'd left his old room as it was thus far—this being the royal palace, we weren't exactly hurting for guest rooms. Should the need arise, we did have an additional thirty-five guest rooms to accommodate for future Selections.

Would my children have Selections? It hadn't exactly gone well for me, but it was tradition. Also, having thirty-five guest rooms felt excessive if they weren't used at least once a generation.

I supposed I was getting ahead of myself. I didn't even have a husband yet. Or a boyfriend.

Thoughts like that were basically inviting the death spiral. I straightened my shoulders, banishing everything related to moving on and end of the week from my brain. "You'll still be here Friday night, right?"

Kile looked interested. "Yeah, why?"

"We're having a party. And my dad was wondering—" I wasn't sure why I had to make sure Kile knew this was Dad's idea, not mine. "—if you'd go on the Report with the rest of the Elite. You know, a life update, where are they now, segment."

"Oh, like what I already did last Friday?"

"Yes, but this time you actually have to give clear answers and not just deflect."

He shrugged. "Sure. I'll do it. No problem."

There we go, then. I'd gotten what I came for. The next logical step was to thank him, then leave. I had a party to plan. I could find Ahren and Camille. Or maybe blow all that off and jump in the pool again.

I had a number of good options. Why didn't I want anything to do with them?

Why was I so determined to stay locked in this awkward silence, so much and so little to say to each other?

There was definitely something wrong with me.

I knew what I wanted. It wasn't subtle. The nervous hands, the way his eyes kept catching on mine. I wanted him to kiss me. Maybe more. It was ridiculous. Six months of hoping to never see Kile Woodwork again, followed by the most abstract concept of "patching things up", then seeking him out at every opportunity.

There was a word for what I was: pathetic. There were other words, too, but I chose pathetic because I felt it covered the most bases.

Kile broke the awkward silence. Unfortunately, he broke it with something that was actually worse than awkward silence. "We should talk about it, right?"

"Last night? Do we have to?" I grimaced at the thought. I was the queen, used to tense negotiations, but this was…different. Kile was different.

"The wedding, I meant."

My scowl deepened. Something was wrong with Kile. If he was going to keep jumping from one unpleasant icebreaker to the next, I might as well drown myself. "There's nothing to talk about. It's over."

It's over had to be the most beautiful phrase in the English language, closely followed by Alice and I broke up. It shouldn't have meant so much to me; something could end without anything else beginning. Kile wasn't my boyfriend now, just because he wasn't with Alice anymore. I had no right to lay that kind of claim on him.

Was that even what I wanted? No, that was me being pathetic—again. Feeling left behind, I had latched onto the nearest eligible male. Kile was attractive and, suddenly, convenient, but we'd always worked best when there were no attachments involved.

Also, he was kind of pissing me off right now. Not because he was wrong or anything, but because I would have been more than happy to let this lie, and he seemed determined, for some incomprehensible reason, to dig it up time and again.

"Well…" I knew that tone. Didn't like it, though. "You seem to be under the impression you did something wrong."

"I did," I stated, bristling. I didn't want to go through all this again. Here's a tip: you can move on from something without actually getting over it if you just pretend it didn't happen aggressively enough. "I kissed you. I was totally out of line."

"Not really." Kile looked embarrassed about it. "I mean…it's you and me."

What did that mean, exactly?

"And you didn't know. I actually went out of my way to make sure you didn't know," Kile went on, raking a hand through his sandy hair. "I mean, I didn't mean for it to go that far, but I didn't it want anything to change between us. That makes me the actual worst person in the world. That wasn't fair to you or—"

I cut him off; I had to. I didn't want to hear him say her name again. "Kile, come here."

I was both surprised and pleased that he obeyed, crossing the room to stand within arm's reach. "What, Eady?"

Don't talk about that. About her. Let me pretend this will last forever. Be right here, right now.

I wanted to say all that, but it seemed easier just to kiss him, pulling him in with both hands. Was I still being pathetic? Maybe. But I had less than a week to engage in such activities, so I would be taking what I could get.

Kile had seemed pretty intent on talking things out, but his contented sigh against my mouth promised he wasn't too disappointed with this new direction. It was all I wanted, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and pulling him to me greedily. Desperate wasn't a good look for a queen, but it was impossible not to be desperate with Kile; every little taste of him made me want so much more.

It had never been this heated the first time, during the Selection. We'd been younger and stupider then, but I actually thought I was more likely to take things way too far now. I had less to lose the second time around, and by that I meant my dignity (kinda just tossed that one after the incident, although Kile did have this weird need to absolve me of it) and general ability to care about what too far might mean for us. I knew a good thing when I saw one—felt it, really, his fingertips digging into my back.

If I was so wrong for wanting this (just to feel something) at least I wasn't the only one. At least I'd found an effective way to shut him up. It was the perfect distraction, a spectacular heat I hadn't realized I was missing out on.

I wanted to savor it; I wanted to rush in and feel what more felt like. Was it possible to have it all? Not really. Not in the span of a week. Temporary, temporary, temporary. I had to keep that in mind; we had a clear expiration date. If that wasn't ringing in my head constantly, it would be too easy to pretend we could stretch this out into forever.

It would never work. Kile was detached enough to make out with me, but he still had a home and a job across the country, and I was the queen. I couldn't leave, and he could never stay.

Besides, I didn't really love him. I loved how much he wanted me, burning away the night of the wedding, and I loved the way he pushed me up against the wall, just as greedy as I was.