Inside

by Kyra Anderson

  Unfortunately, he was so devoted to the task that he was finished far too soon, and rinsed himself off before wringing out the rag and sighing.

  “Now, the really embarrassing part…”

  “What do you mean?” There was no stopping the various directions my brain went with that statement.

  “I can’t wash my hair…” he murmured.

  I smiled, looking for something to rinse his hair with. He cleared his throat and pointed at a bowl my mother had in the corner by the bathtub. I grabbed it and gently poured water over his blonde hair.

  Reaching for the shampoo, my mischievous side reared its head. With more boldness than I ever knew I had, I took advantage of Mykail’s closed eyes to stand and slip out of my jeans and peel off my shirt so I was just in my underwear—though I tried to tell myself it was about the same as wearing a swimsuit. I climbed into the tub, sitting atop his legs.

  “What are you—” He stopped immediately when he saw me in the tub with him. He was too chocked to speak at first, so I quickly grabbed the shampoo and squirted some into my palm, rubbing my hands together before threading my fingers through his hair.

  His hands settled at my waist and the bath felt much hotter than before. His eyes were closed again to prevent the suds from getting in his eyes, but that made everything even more intimate.

  The shampoo foamed around his hair as I worked my fingers over his scalp, loving the closeness. I worked over the sides of his head above his ears before lifting myself up to work my fingers through the back of his hair. I did not miss how this positioned my chest close to his face.

  Even though his eyes were closed, he must have known, because he leaned forward and his lips pressed to my sternum just above the lace flower in the middle of my bra. I could feel his breath over my sensitized skin, fanning between my breasts. It felt like electricity seared my entire body, amplified by the water, causing both of us to be hit by the charge.

  He ran his nose up my sternum as I wrapped my fingers in his hair, though not for the purposes of washing. It was to keep steady as my body reacted to him. I closed my eyes and let out a shaky breath as his lips moved over my skin. One of his hands ran up my back to the back of my bra, which he fisted tightly. His other hand wrapped around my lower back to pull me so my hips were pressing close to his.

  His lips moved over to the part of my breast exposed above the bra, sucking a mark to life. I gasped and my hips instinctively pushed further forward at the sensation, my fingers tightening in his hair.

  Slowly, his hand released the back of my bra and ran down to my hip as his body shivered with the attempt to restrain himself.

  “This is dangerous…” he barely managed to breathe.

  “I know,” I said, finally finding the coordination to untangle my fingers from his hair.

  I grabbed the bowl to splash water over his head and rinse out the shampoo.

  “You should…probably…”

  “No, you need conditioner now,” I protested weakly. “I’ll behave.”

  “I won’t,” he chuckled breathlessly.

  “Try?” I didn’t actually want him to behave. I was perfectly fine with misbehaving.

  He laughed, his eyes still closed, shaking his head.

  “Do you have any idea…how difficult that is right now?” he hissed, his fingers tightening on my skin. “You drive me crazy.”

  “I know the feeling,” I breathed heavily, feeling my blood pump furiously through my veins.

  “Please…you should go…”

  I didn’t listen. I grabbed the conditioner, quickly massaging it through the wet tendrils of hair, concentrating very hard on not making the act sexual. As soon as I could, I rinsed his hair and pressed my forehead to his, both of our mouths open and breathing heavily, mixing in the air between us, causing tension to mount.

  “I’ll go…” I hissed.

  But I did not move immediately. I couldn’t. Every cell of me was crying to stay put, but I knew we weren’t ready to jump that far in our relationship, particularly in the dangerous circumstance that was our relationship. I grudgingly pulled away from him and stood, stepping out of the bath and bending to pick up my clothes.

  “I, um, I’m going to change and make dinner,” I said quickly. “Just…find me when you’re ready.”

  I quickly scampered out of the bathroom.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The rest of the evening had been awkward for both of us. There was something powerful and heavy between us and we had both gotten a taste of it. It was a little terrifying to realize how quickly we could lose control of ourselves.

  Despite everything, my hormones refused to be silenced. All through the night and at the most inconvenient times during school on Monday, I replayed what had happened in the tub and my entire body ignited faster than dry timber. Even refastening Mykail’s cuffs in the kitchen before dinner had me hot and bothered because I got to admire the incredible muscles in different lighting.

  “Miss Sandover,” Mr. McDermott called on me when I was daydreaming about the muscles on my angel.

  “Yes?” I said, quickly snapping back to the present.

  “What do you think?”

  I looked around the class, noting the eyes turned to me. I laughed and cleared my throat.

  “I’m sorry, what was the question?”

  “Did you do the reading?” Mr. McDermott asked, holding up the book for example.

  “Yes, I did,” I told him truthfully.

  “Okay, then come back from your estate in LaLa Land,” he teased. “I asked what kind of reasoning Thomas Ankell gave for his behavior toward the Revolution and his son.”

  “Well, his son was just a baby, and a lot of people gave Ankell a hard time for being a teen parent, especially since Janice came from such low roots and her own mother was a teen parent. But Ankell used his son as a metaphor in his speech for the future that he wanted for America. He wanted to give every child of America the life they deserved because the past was not what defined us, but what we did with our future.”

  “So you did do the reading,” Mr. McDermott complimented. “Very good. Why do you think he used this technique? It seemed to work, didn’t it? Riled the people up, got them ready to march at the Stanford campus…”

  “Well, it made Thomas Ankell seem more human,” I said, a little quieter since I was not as sure of my answer. “He loved his son and it proved that he had a personal connection to a better future.”

  “Exactly,” Mr. McDermott said. “He appealed to the hearts of everyone. He didn’t speak to their wallets or their school careers, or anything like that. He spoke to the hearts of people, to wanting to be happy and have what made one happy because that was what the founding fathers based this country on—bettering oneself.”

  He turned to look at the clock and sighed.

  “Alright, you have two minutes before class ends, so get out of here,” he laughed. “Don’t forget your papers tomorrow!” he yelled over the din of everyone packing up their books.

  As I walked out of class, Taylor and Jill caught up to me.

  “Hey, where were you in class?” Taylor laughed. “You were completely out in space.”

  “I’m just tired…” I said lamely. “Where’s Becca?”

  “She had a dentist appointment,” Jill answered. “She’ll be here by lunch.”

  It wasn’t just in class that I zoned out, but also at lunch. Even the awkward stare I shared with Becca couldn’t stop me from thinking about Mykail. In fact, it made me think about him even more, since the events of yesterday would play in my head all the way up to our time in the bathtub.

  I watched the asphalt pass under my feet as I walked to the car where Mark was waiting. He greeted me in his usual sweet, innocent way, and I smiled, but it felt wrong to see him acting so innocent when my mind had been in the gutter all day.

  Clark was not far behind me, and in near-silence we were driven to the Commission. After a few minutes of quiet, Clark casually asked
how my day had been to strike up conversation, though the topics were general and light, hiding the fact that we both knew that we would be starting our path to treason that afternoon.

  After the now-routine process of checking in, we descended into the depths of the Commission of the People, sharing silent looks behind Mark’s back.

  We found an open conference room, where we set our bags down and looked at one another awkwardly, not sure how to begin.

  “So, what do you want to do?” I said stupidly.

  “I actually wanted to look some things up in the library,” he said, trying to sound casual, though the sentence was forced. “Would you like to join?”

  “Sure,” I said too quickly to be natural. We smiled awkwardly, silently agreeing that we needed to work on our acting.

  Clark told Mark to stay put and that we would be in the library, but neither of us were sure if he understood the command. He remained where he was, though, as we walked away.

  I was worried about running into Dana on the way to the library, that somehow he would know what we were starting, stop us, and then throw us into the holding cells. However, the hallways were empty and quiet, darker than usual with the mood in which I was walking them.

  We went into the library as naturally as we could manage and Clark locked the door behind us.

  “So,” he started, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the most recent notes, “do you want to find this book and I’ll go dig up the city plans for the addresses?”

  “Sure.”

  “I don’t know what use that book will be, but maybe there’s something between the pages,” he said. “From what I could guess with this really bad map, the book should be along this wall,” he said, pointing. “The numbers are on the shelves, so you should be able to find it with that.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’ll meet you at the middle table,” he pointed to the spacious center of the room and, with a nod, left me to search.

  I walked along the wall, scanning the numbers to see if I was anywhere close when a thought hit me. Where were the cameras in the library? I tried to casually glance around, and saw one near me, but knowing the Commission, I was sure there were hidden cameras that secretly documented every move.

  Getting nervous, I tried to think of how we were going to do any research with the cameras in the library.

  I ran my fingers along the spines of the books as I walked, looking down at the piece of paper again, double-checking the number to make sure I had not already passed it, trying to push my nerves aside.

  Even in such tense moments, my thoughts drifted to Mykail. I mentally slapped myself for letting my daydreaming get out of hand. I was in a dangerous situation, and I didn’t need to get stupid now.

  As I neared the section of numbers where the book would be, I slowed and scanned carefully until I came across the black spine that read History of the American Banking System: A Comprehensive Study.

  “How the hell is this supposed to help?” I groaned, grabbing the book. I opened it and leafed through the pages but the text look normal and there were no notes written in the margins or envelopes in the pages. I flipped through it a few times, a little slower each time just to be sure.

  I sighed and looked at the shelf it came from, seeing the other books on banking systems before a stupid idea came to mind.

  I bent down to peer at the empty space the book had occupied. There was a black bar jutting out parallel to the wall. I carefully put the book I was holding on top of the other books and reached back to touch the cold, metal bar. I pulled on it and it turned a little, but stopped. I hesitated before looking around at the cameras that were probably hidden around me.

  Taking a deep breath and shaking off the feeling that I was being watched, I turned back to my task, realizing that the bar was a heavy-duty door handle. I tried to open it, but the door behind the shelves was surprisingly heavy.

  “Clark?” I called quietly, even though my voice echoed.

  “Yeah?”

  “Can you come here and help me?”

  “Can’t find it?” I heard his footsteps coming down the stairs from the second floor and, a minute later, he was by my side, looking puzzled as to why I had my hand between the books.

  “There’s a handle,” I whispered.

  “You’re kidding…” He reached back to confirm for himself before he backed away, his eyes wide with surprise. “Where to?”

  “Don’t know,” I admitted. “I can’t turn it by myself.”

  “I really hope we’re in a blind spot,” he murmured, glancing around before reaching forward beside me and grabbing the handle above my hand. “One, two, three.”

  We both pulled hard on the handle and, with some strain, managed to turn it. I heard a click and a small hiss followed by silence. Nothing else happened—the door didn’t open.

  Confused, I pushed on the back of the shelf and felt it give a little, but then fall back into place.

  “Is there another one on the other side?” I asked. We both moved to the other end of the bookshelf, removing the books to reveal a second handle. After turning that one to a perpendicular position, I motioned for Clark to go to the other end and push, my heart in my throat, threatening to come out of my mouth if I spoke.

  There was no need to push hard on the shelf, it moved away easily, wheeling itself on a track into the wall. We were able to peek around the half-hidden shelf to the passage it hid. There was a dark hallway with one light that flickered to life when the shelf had opened. I carefully stepped into the short hallway, staring at the single door at the end.

  “Stay here,” Clark whispered, stepping forward delicately, as if the floor would give out under him. For all we knew, it might. I found it difficult to breathe through my excitement and curiosity.

  He moved carefully and quietly, reaching the other door without problem. He took a deep breath while I held mine and opened the other door slowly, listening for noise before peering into the room.

  “Holy shit…” he hissed. He closed the door slowly before shuffling down the hall, motioning for me to back out, which I did, fear rocketing through me that we had been caught.

  “Close it, close it,” he hissed, slipping through the narrow opening and helping me pull the bookshelf closed, hearing it click into place again.

  “What is it?” I barely managed to choke out.

  “It’s the records room,” he whispered. My eyes shot wide. “We can sneak into the records room from here.”

  “No way…”

  He nodded and took a deep breath, swallowing hard, calming down from the adrenaline rush.

  “I’ve looked over the blueprints of the Commission before, but I never saw anything about a passage connecting Records to the library,” he hissed. “Makes me wonder how many other secret passages there are.”

  “How did this person know about it?” I asked, looking the shelf over.

  “I have no idea,” he said. “But I’m starting to realize that whoever is sending us these notes is serious about this. That’s something…I mean, sneaking into Records…”

  “We should go in there and look around,” I declared.

  “No, not yet,” he said quickly, grabbing my elbow. “We need to check the camera feeds and make sure we’re in a blind spot before we go snooping.”

  “Good point.”

  “Come on, grab the note. I’ll show you the city maps I found.”

  I grabbed the piece of paper, putting it in my pocket as Clark watched.

  “When you get home, burn that note.”

  “Done.”

  I followed Clark to the tables in the middle of the library where he had pulled out some massive, thin papers of the city of Central, held together by wooden boards. I stared at the thin, blue lines across the map, feeling completely overwhelmed by the small print. He chuckled, seeing the startled look on my face.

  “It’s alright,” he assured. “This is actually fairly easy to use.” He grabbed the book sitting at one
corner of the map and opened it, flipping to a page and turning to show me a table explaining the new address system.

  “The city is divided into sections, which are labeled…here,” he pointed to one area of the map, where the darker outline marked a section labeled ‘12’. “That’s what the ‘S’ stands for in these…” he motioned to the note with the addresses. “And all of these sections are divided into four quadrants…” he motioned to the small numbers in each corner of the square. “Which is ‘Q’… ‘B’ is for block…all of these little squares…”

  “That is not going to be fun,” I groaned, watching warily as the blocks became smaller and smaller.

  “That’s why I have this,” he picked up a circular magnifying glass and set it on the map, which pulled a smile out of me, even though I was still overwhelmed.

  “And ‘E’ is for establishment, which is the actual address,” he nodded. “Okay, so,” he handed me the note, “I decided that the two with the stars are ones we should pay attention to, but we’ll find them all and see what this person wants us to know about these places.”

  “Where is the Commission on this map?” I asked, looking over the large paper. It took Clark a few seconds before he found the outer government district where the Commission of the People was located.

  “So, there really is nothing behind the Commission, just open fields leading to the reservoir?”

  “No one can build here. It’s where the Commission extends underground,” he explained.

  “That would make breaking out difficult…nowhere to hide people in open space.”

  “We will cross that bridge when we get to it.” He waved the thought away. “Right now, I’m just thinking about figuring out these notes.”

  “Okay, so the one with the two stars is S18,” I read for him, “Q1…B009…E1-1…”

  Clark followed my instructions with the magnifying glass until he found what we were looking for.

  “Here?” he said, not sounding sure of himself.