The Selection: a Different Point of View

maxon: first kiss

"Whoever he marries will be a lucky girl. And whatever happens to me, I will be honored to be his subject."

I swallowed. America finally broke eye contact with me and stared into her lap. She, with more grace than before, walked back to her seat and continued to stare at her hands.

She will be the lucky girl. There is no one else.

I tried to make eye contact with her again during the rest of the Report, but she continued to avert my gaze.

I begged the universe to tell America to keep on that stunning red dress as I walked briskly through the halls to her room. I couldn't take my eyes off of her. She looked like she was on fire. Her ice blue eyes cooled down her dress and hair, and her pink lips added a delicious warmth.

Her lips.

My heart was beating in my throat, and it felt as if my legs couldn't walk fast enough. It took everything in me not to break into a sprint and burst through her door and kiss her. I knew I would have to take it slow with her. But tonight... I could feel it.

Once I reached her door, I composed myself, brushing my chest with my hands and straightening my cuffs. After a final deep breath, I knocked on the door. A frightened America flung open the door. One scan of her room was all it took for me to see that no maid was present. I rolled my eyes.

"You really ought to have a maid in here at night," I chided, taking a closer look at the corners of her room. Something dangerous could happen if she wasn't careful.

Stray hairs that had fallen out of their pristine updo had framed America's face and bounced as she spoke, "Maxon! Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to call you that in front of everyone. It was so stupid."

"Do you think I'm mad at you?" I questioned, welcoming myself into her space and shutting the door behind me. We took a few steps towards her balcony. The moon was full and the sky was cloudless.

Perfect.

"America, you call me by my name so often, it was bound to slip out." I thought about how much she claimed to hate the Selection, but easily adjusted with life here, with the culture, with me. "I wish it had been in a slightly more private setting," I said, smiling. "But I don't hold that against you at all."

I adored how comfortable I made her feel, for her to feel safe enough to call me "Maxon" on live television. I could only imagine what Father must have been thinking in that moment.

"Really?" She asked, her blue eyes full of wonder.

"Of course, really."

She threw her arms around her body and spun in circle, the moon beams dancing on her delicate hair. "Ugh! I felt like such an idiot tonight. I can't believe you made me tell that story!" America slapped my side playfully. Seconds after her hand made contact with me, I could still feel my nerves tingling. Keeping up conversation would be difficult for me. I smiled through my thoughts, remembering the venom in her voice the first time we met. I couldn't wait to tell our kids about it.

If she stays, Maxon.

"That was the best part of the whole night! Mom was really amused. In her day the girls were more reserved than even Tiny, and here you are calling me shallow... she couldn't get over it!" I chuckled to myself, tightening my grip on my wrist behind my back as we moved to the balcony. America was silent for a few seconds, probably overthinking her actions. I hoped it wouldn't weigh on her too much.

We reached the balcony and it took everything in me not to pick her up and spin her around. The moon made her pale skin shine, and her eyes shone mysteriously under the stars.