Iris~~

When I find Jonas outside my door, blankets draped over an arm and a cardboard take out box in a hand, it's after I've had a thirty-minute freak-out sesh.

"I'm so sorry about my brother."

"There's no way to get out of it?"

He shakes his head. It's almost imperceptible. "I've already spoken with him."

This isn't going back to the viewing room where Jonas passed out on me. This is going into the ceremony chamber. The place where the Society members who know Expiration Dates will be. Jonas thought I'd be all right at Erik's, but now that I know what's below the Society, I'm terrified.

By the look on Jonas's face, I know he sees the fear on mine. He survives the ceremonies though. He's still standing—alive. There has to be a way then to safely make it through.

"Care for an adventure?"

I take the box from his hand, trying to steel my nerves. "If there are brownies in this box, then I'll follow you anywhere."

He laughs. "Then I'm glad I can say there are in fact brownies in that box."

******

Jonas takes me up to the rooftop. There are spots where warm light shines through the roof, and Jonas explains that most of the roof has a top layer that can be moved back so the stars can shine in. Those on the top floor can sleep under the stars. The idea seems too lovely for the Society.

I help him lay out one of the blankets, and he sets the box of brownies between us. We use the two remaining blankets to wrap around ourselves because of the light wind. Closing my eyes, I listen to the rustle of the trees and let the wind brush my face.

"I love this," I say.

"Calming, isn't it?"

"Yes." I open my eyes to find him looking at me. My cheeks warm against the cool wind, and I divert my gaze. The mountains around us appear as black shadows, as if they could be whatever sort of majestic thing they wish.

"For the ceremony, keep your head down. You can't look up. Do you understand?"

I pull my knees to my chest. "No. Jonas, this seems like it has to do with something more than only respect."

He sighs, his finger tapping against the side of the box. "It's about not drawing attention to yourself. If they notice you, it won't be hard for them to figure out your Expiration Date."

"Why did you bring me down there if you knew it was dangerous?"

His tapping stops. "Being Expired you're treated like glass by the people who know. You can't make any decisions because suddenly they think you don't know what's best for you. You don't look any different or even physically feel different, but you're breakable. In danger of your death that's around every corner. Half of the time it's like you aren't even allowed to talk for yourself. Isn't that how it is with Erik? It's how my parents treat me."

I pick at a corner of my blanket. Erik placed himself in charge to keep me safe. Safe so I can help him . . . safe so he can use me. I nod. "He calls me my dear. I don't know why it bothers me so much. Maybe because it's not tender in the way you'd want someone to say it to you. It's always seemed like he's mocking me." Running my finger over the soft threads of the blanket, I let my shoulders hunch forward. "You called me love once and even though you laughed afterwards—forget it."

"No." He places his fingers on my chin and lifts my head. "I want to know."

"You sounded so kind and sincere. It made me want to have someone call me that for the rest of my life . . . however long that might be."

"You deserve that, love." He grins, and I smile, laughing some while ducking my head.

"It's a little cheesy to say that now." The truth is though it didn't feel cheesy. That feeling it gave me the last time he called me love hits me again. I never thought I'd think this, but he's going to make someone so happy for the rest of their life. "What about these brownies?"

"Right." He reaches for the lid, and that word, that movement breaks a trance I didn't know had surrounded us. But that's the thing with trances; you don't know you're in one until you're out.

As he opens the box, I ask, "How do you do it?"

His hand pauses. "Do what?"

"Get through each day being Expired?"

He pulls out a blondie and holds it out to me. "You have to live each day like you're going to die, but with the mindset that you won't. Try the blondie first. They have chocolate chips, so they're even better."

I take a bite.

"Well?"

I place my hand to my mouth, swallowing. "Terrible."

"Here"— he reaches into the box— "have a brownie." He holds one out, and I can't help but laugh at his wide eyes, his flustered movements. It's . . . endearing.

"I love it, Jonas. See?" I take another bite.

"Oh. Good. I thought we weren't going to be able to be friends."

"Judgy much?"

"Yes." He plucks the blondie from my hand and takes a bite.

"Really?" I shuffle through the box for another blondie. "Enjoy your already eaten blondie."

"I will, thank you."

I roll my eyes, but his smile is contagious.

"A toast?" He raises his/my blondie.

"To?"

"Being Expired."

"To being Expired," I say, and we clink our blondies together. After that we finish eating in silence, staring out into the vast darkness.

"There's a ball in two days."

"A ball?" I ask.

"You know, dancing, dresses, music?"

"I know what it is. You just caught me off guard. That's all."

"Can you dance?"

I pull the blanket tighter around me. My orphanage taught me the Society's dances, always planning for that moment of infiltration. But I'm not infiltrating. I don't know what I'm doing. "I took lessons when I was younger."

"I can't wait to see you dance then." He lies down on his back, bending an arm behind his head. The other one he lays out across my side of the blanket. "Join me? I'll even offer up my arm as a pillow."

"I have a hard head."

His raises his eyebrows. "I don't mind."

His arm does look inviting. His body looks warm. But that's precisely why I shouldn't.

"Iris?" My name is like a soft plead.

I lie back. "Try anything . . ."

"You have my word as Preeminence."

The tip of my head touches his arm, and I stare upward. So many stars stare back. My heart beats rapidly, and I know I would die if I find out he can hear it. "Can I trust the Preeminence?"

He rolls over on his side toward me. "Do you want to? Because if you're set against it, you never will."

I turn my head in his direction. "Yes."

He returns to lying on his back, his gaze on the heavens. "You can't see my two favorite constellations in the sky at this time of year. One is Libra—the Scales. I want to be a ruler who leads wisely, who can discern which is the right path." Not too long ago I tried to discern which path I should take.

I took the right one.

"What's your other favorite?"

"Orion."

"Why?"

"You know what the constellation means?"

I pull the blanket up, curling into it, which means I kind of curl into Jonas. Only his arm adjusts to me being closer. Warmth seeps off of him. As weak as it is, I can't help it. "He's the Hunter."

He faces me, his body turning so it presses against mine in new places—our legs touch, my arms press into his chest. His hand behind my neck, now wraps around my shoulders. We've never been this close. At least, not consciously. He was passed out when I fell on him. He raises his hand to my face and brushes his finger down the side of my nose, all the way down to my chin.

My stomach feels lighter, the air hotter.

"He reminds me to always go after the prize." His finger runs over my bottom lip. "I know I gave you my word that I wouldn't try anything, but please let me kiss you."

My lips part, and my eyes search his face. Does everything change if I say yes?

Hasn't everything already changed?

"Promise me that you'll mean it." I need him to mean this. I need this to mean something. Even if this . . . even if we go nowhere, I need to know that for this one moment, I mean something to him. That I'm just as real and alive as he is to me.

"I promise."

He closes that small distance between us that was never much of a distance to begin with and brushes his lips across mine, hesitant, like he's asked a question and is searching for the answer. Worries are whipped away on the wind, leaving Jonas and only Jonas to occupy those thoughts. He presses his lips against mine. The kiss is slow, delicate, how I think a first kiss should be.

He pulls back to look at me. I lean into his hand that's on my face. His fingers brush over my cheek.

I tighten my hands in his shirt and kiss him, and he shifts so that he leans over me and deepens the kiss. I told him the kiss had to mean something to him. I wouldn't have kissed him if it wasn't going to mean something to me too.

While the stars shine down around us and the wind blows past us, the one thought that keeps hovering in the back of my mind is whether changing the Society is the only option now left for me.

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