The sound of footsteps on the dirt jolted me back to my senses.
We were five feet apart in an instant. Just in time, too, as Clint and Jeff burst through the trees at that moment.
"It's Alby," Jeff panted. "He's... talking."
"He's saying things about--"
Newt was gone before Clint had finished talking. The Med-jacks looked at me, puzzled expressions on their faces. "What were you doing?" Jeff asked. His face gave away nothing.
I arranged my features into an emotionless mask. "Nothing." The Med-jack looked suspicious, so I added, "Just talking. About... Alby."
A half-truth, at least. If I were to have told the full truth, I don't know what I would have said.
I followed Clint and Jeff out of the trees. We cleared the Deadheads just as the Doors began closing. The now-familiar sound still made me cringe, grating through my bones. The Med-jacks went straight to the Homestead, but told me to stay outside, because Alby wouldn't want too many people with him. I stayed in the undercover area, a little apart from the boys who were getting ready for the night. Their talking and laughing didn't stop the thoughts swirling around my head.
What had happened in the trees?
Did I have the right to be so forward? I shouldn't have grabbed his hand. I shouldn't have gotten so close. Shouldn't have been such a reckless idiot. He was the shucking leader, for shuck's sake. I'd gotten close. Way too close.
Close enough that, if I'd dared, my lips would have grazed his.
The thought made me want to slap myself. Hard. But, try as I might, I couldn't deny the fact that I'd wanted it. Wanted it so badly it hurt.
What an idiot I was.
"Hey!"
I stood up straighter, glad of an excuse to stop thinking. A grin crossed my face. "Hey, Minho!"
He raised a brow. "Not complaining about not being a Runner anymore, huh?"
I glared at him. "Don't remind me."
He smirked. "Good that."
I turned so I was facing him fully. "Don't mention it, or I'll take your hair gel and hide it so you can never use it again."
The moment that the smile dropped from his face was the funniest thing I'd ever seen. I burst out laughing as his hands went up to his hair protectively. "Don't even say something like that," he said in a genuinely pained voice.
I snorted. "What, do the Creators actually send up hair products with the supplies?" Actually, this was something I'd been curious about since I'd first seen Minho.
"Of course they do," he scoffed.
I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not, and when I opened my mouth to ask, he just smirked and walked away, arms swinging at his sides.
With nothing to stop me, I ran to the Homestead and upstairs to my room. I would apologize to Newt for being such an idiot. Then maybe this feeling of guilt would wash away. Shuck, I felt even worse than the times I'd yelled at him. At least then, there was none of this insufferable awkwardness.
I waited an hour before I heard footsteps.
I was on my feet in an instant, running out of my room. "I'm sorry," I burst out. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry--"
"Whoa, calm down!"
I shut up and looked at Newt. His eyes were wide, his hair messed up. I smiled sheepishly.
"All right," he said. "Now bloody tell me what the shuck is wrong."
I stared at him incredulously. "You want to know what's wrong?" He's not going to throw me in the Slammer? When he didn't answer, I pursed my lips. "I'm sorry for being so forward with you in the trees."
When he continued to look puzzled, I groaned and buried my face in my hands. I didn't want to explain it. I couldn't. Couldn't explain what I felt, either. It was complicated. How was I supposed to explain it, when I didn't understand it myself? And I'd never had to deal with anything like this before. Even as I watched him right now, heat sparked under my skin. As much as I hated to admit it, Chuck was... right.
A noise escaped my throat, a hideous sound that sounded like a frog was exploding in my mouth. Newt stared at me as if trying not to laugh. I blushed furiously, a hand clapped over my lips. "I mean, never mind." I grabbed my braid in a hand and yanked at it. If only I could rip it off my head, then maybe I could use it to cover my face. It hurt my scalp. So instead I dug my fingernails into my palm, if only to give myself something else to focus on. Something other than Newt's moonlit face.
Blood dripped out and fell to the floor. Drip, drip, drip. Pain wrapped its tendrils around my hand, growing with every second. I focused on that. Focused on the way the warm, thick liquid seeped through the cracks between my fingers. It pooled in my palm, some of it making its way down my wrist, soaking into my shirt--
Until Newt's fingers closed around my hand, pulling it to him. There was shock in his eyes as he watched the blood dripping. "Helene, what the bloody shuck are you doing?"
I gazed dully at him and didn't say a word. Hell, I couldn't have spoken even if I'd wanted to. My tongue seemed glued to the roof of my mouth as he stepped closer, still squeezing my hand tightly. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realized that it was the first time he'd called me by my actual name.
"Helene." His voice was quiet, but firm. "Is there something wrong?" Another step. "And don't lie. Don't bloody lie to me."
I managed a weak smile. "You read my mind. I was going to say that everything is fine and that the unicorns and fairies have come to carry all my worries away." When he didn't smile back, I blew out a sigh. "Would you even care if I told you?"
Oops. That was a bloody stupid thing to say.
He drew back a step, slight anger swimming in his large eyes. "How could you say that?"
I shook my head. "Never mind. Forget I ever said that." But I couldn't tell him what was on my mind. I couldn't. He'd lock me in the Slammer for a year. Or kill me.
"Then tell me what the bloody hell is wrong."
I decided to be an idiot and stall for time. "Who said anything is wrong?"
Newt slapped his other hand down on my shoulder. "Helene. I'm not stupid."
No, he was one of the cleverest guys in the Glade. I glared at him, not particularly wanting to admit it at the moment. "Shuck it, neither am I. I don't want to be stuck in the Slammer again."
His eyes widened. "What did you do?"
"Nothing," I answered quickly. Then I sighed, smiling a little. It was nice to know he cared whether I bled to death.
He didn't stop me as I turned and went to my room.
