Mom's scrutiny of my casual attire is enough to crack my resolve about flying under the fashion radar. In other words, I decide to dress up for my dates. It's been awhile and the public seems to agree with my mom. No one particularly likes a casual Eadlyn. I pick an asymmetrical deep green tailored dress with a pointed collar on one side up to my chin. It's glamourous but also whimsical. I designed it last month. I slide into my black Grecian heels and try to remember how tall my date is.

I dawdle over my make-up and spend more time than I need to responding to emails. Something painful occurs to me: I don't want to go on a date or see any boy except one.

Since he's on my mind, I decide to pop in and visit Kile. I don't need to say anything about his mom or our deal. I can just say hi, how are you feeling? And all that. Last night doesn't even need to come up. Without another thought, I rush down the hall toward his room.

Amazingly, Kile is the only other person in the wide hallway, walking in my direction.

We see each other at the same time and both of our paces quicken. I smile at him. He grins back. His face is healing--still pretty rough--but it's more yellow than blue and less swollen today.

We stop and face each other with a foot between us.

"Kile! I was just coming to see you." Then like a doofus, I sigh out his name again. "Kile."

"The one and only," he says.

"The one and only bookworm," I tease. He is literally carrying a satchel of books.

"The bookworm you love to kiss," he amends, in a quiet but pleased voice.

I laugh and step in to brush a quick peck on his lips. "True."

He startles and looks over my shoulder.

"Careful," he says.

"Always," I reply, and then I kiss the hollow of his neck. I feel free to just enjoy this boy now that I've set him free, or tried my best to. But he doesn't know that yet.

"Eady, anyone could see." He steps back a couple inches. I try not to let the small distance hurt in a big way.

"You're better?" I ask, sweeping my eyes over his injuries.

"Basically," he says. Kile looks to his left, then right, before whispering, "Come to my room tonight."

"I shouldn't," I murmur.

"But you will?" His eyes are so eager, so true.

I can't lead him on. Tough decisions are part of my job. And I know how to make them stick.

"Listen can I ask you something?" I hear the waver in my voice. Am I going to do this?

"Anything," he says.

"The rebels. During the attack...did you...talk to them? I know they probably threatened you, but Hale said he saw you showing them the way to my room..."

"And you believed him?"

"No, I—"

"I told you what happened."

"I know, I just thought with all the confusion, maybe the details got mixed up?"

"I did not speak with them," his voice quivers and he says more softly, "I got beat up by them. What would Hale know? He was probably hiding so he didn't get his pants dirty."

I remember Hale's clothing from that day was actually as rough as I've ever seen him wear, oddly so.

"I can't believe you would doubt me," Kile's eyes well.

I swallow a knot in my throat and force myself not to reassure him. He won't leave if he thinks there is something real between us.

The hurt settles into his bruised features, as my sentiment sinks in. His forehead furrows and his mouth turns down. I think I even hear his teeth grinding.

"You've known me forever, Eady."

We stare at each other, something awkward blooming between us with every second passing.

"I just was worried..."

"You doubt me."

"No, wait..." Disappointment strengthens me to hold my pause. I can ruin what's between us so easily, with just a bit of insecurity. When I say nothing else, Kile's expression darkens.

"Why not end this façade right now?" he says, anger glinting in his eyes and practically blasting into my heart.

"What façade?" I echo back.

"You aren't looking for love. You'll never trust anyone. You were never taught to."

I falter. Maybe I was too hasty to hurt him. Maybe I could be honest and still end it as friends. I feel my resolve slipping as he peels away his affection with each word.

"Listen," I lick my lips and realize I am more nervous than when I'm speaking on TV. "Let's talk after my dates. You can come to me tonight. I changed rooms, I'm in..."

He cuts me off, "Never mind. I don't want to know where your room is! What if I tell the rebels!" his eyes widen in fake alarm. "Never trust, Eady, be the little cold tyrant you've been trained to be. I'll steer clear from now on, believe me. I don't need to be beat up twice to learn not to stand up for you. Sorry I ever tried." And he turns and stalks down the hall. He doesn't see the tears falling down my cheeks because he doesn't look back once.