"Hey," Nate whispers, as if it's totally normal to show up at someone's door in the middle of the night.

"Uh, hey," I say, and poke my head out of the doorway to see if anyone else is there. We're alone, and that sets my nerves on edge, especially after I was so playful with him today. Either he thinks I'm vulnerable now, or he thinks I'm interested. However he sees it can't be good. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Sorry it's so late. I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No, I was up. I can't fall asleep. Do you need something?"

"Actually, if you're up for it, I wanted to show you something," he says, holding out his hand.

"In the middle of the night? Can't it wait 'til morning?"

"Uh...." He looks down the hall and chuckles to himself. "Not really."

Now I'm really nervous. Why is he laughing? I never know what to expect with this boy. Does he mask his sincerity with arrogance or is he just an exceptional liar? Are we becoming friends or are we sizing each other up? I have no idea. All I can think now is thank goodness he taught me how to beat him up today.

"Okay... Let me just grab a sweater or something," I say, uncomfortable going anywhere in my thin Deathless pajama shirt. I wish I still had my slingshot with me, just in case Nathan is trying to get rid of the competition once and for all, and for a moment, I think about just slamming the door in his face. But I want to believe he's better than that. He's trying to prove something, it's different from what Declan and I are trying to prove, but Nathan is still struggling. The sympathetic side of me overcomes the aggressive side, and I put on a sweatshirt and join him in the hall. "Where to?" I ask.

He takes my hand, and pulls me into a jog down the corridor. Maybe it's because we are running or because we're holding hands at a weird angle, but my hand is uncomfortable in his, like they don't fit. Not like mine and Daniel's did, so I pretend I have to put my hair up so I can wiggle my hand free. As he runs ahead of me, I catch a glimpse of a scar behind his ear, either a birthmark or a mark from injury.

Nathan pushes open the door, and gestures for me to head out first. Now I really wish I had my slingshot. What are we doing?

When I walk onto the patio, I see there are lights on the floor: Candles set in tall holders that block their flames from the wind. He shuts the door behind us and sits down on a blanket over the concrete. He pats the fabric beside him, gesturing me to sit down too, and my stomach twists with more nerves than it had when I thought he might try to hurt me. Now it's clear how he read my playfulness today: He thinks I'm interested.

"What is all this?" I ask, sitting across from him on the blanket.

"A proper apology."

Chocolates wrapped in silver tinfoil cover the blanket. I pick one up and hold it between my fingers. "This seems awfully romantic for an apology"

"It's supposed to," he says timidly. I haven't yet known him to be shy, but then again, I haven't yet learned much about him at all.

I smile and feel my cheeks redden, but I'm almost certain it's from embarrassment, not flattery. "This is very thoughtful, Nathan, but—"

"—Nate."

"Okay, Nate. Listen, the person on the transmission was my... well, I don't know... my boyfriend, my fiancé, I don't know what to call him, we never talked about it. I can't have romantic apologies with you. I appreciate your gesture, but I'm not interested. I'm sorry, I should really go."

I begin to stand when he leans forward to blow out the candles. "Don't go. I'm sorry. I just want to get to know you."

I should go. I've given him plenty of chances, but now it's different. Now he's asking for a fair chance at being my friend. I can grant him that, I think, so I sit back down. "Okay. What do you want to know?"

"Who are you? Other than a protective survivor who knows about science. What was it like for you before you got here? What are your favorite things?"

"So just everything about me?"

"Yeah," he says, "is that unreasonable?"

I laugh. "Um, kind of. You go first so I know what you're looking for."

"Okay. Well, my name is Nate Ward. I'm nineteen years old. My mom died when I was four years old, and Dad was never around. It was just me, my cousin, and my aunts and uncles. My favorite color is red, my favorite food is steak, and my favorite hobby is annoying you." He smiles. "Any questions?"

"How did you learn how to stitch your wound?"

His smile fades away. "It's common sense, but I've seen people do it before. There were doctors in the group I was in before this. They helped heal my skin after a cooking accident. That's why I wear long sleeves all the time. To cover up the burns."

"Is that how you got the mark behind your ear too?"

He touches his fingers to the spot. "Oh. Yeah," he says, averting his eyes. I can tell he doesn't want to talk about it, probably for the same reason I haven't told him about my family or about Daniel. It's too painful.

I decide to change the subject to the other thing occupying my mind: "Are you scared about the war?"

He sighs. "Tough question." He lies back on the patio floor. I do the same at a safe distance away, and stare into the night, the stars brilliantly shining through the swirling breaths of gray-blue clouds.

I find one of the constellations Daniel and I made up: Laughiticus. We did that a lot, but this constellation was our favorite. It's a group of stars that vaguely resembles a hand over a smiling mouth. We made up a story about how Laughiticus was the creator of the laugh, but in order to share it with the world, he had to shake apart into all the stars that made up his constellation. He decided that it was worth it to share laughter with the world, so he laughed as hard as he could and burst into thousands of pieces that floated up to the sky. We were quite imaginative together.

"The only reason I would be scared of this war would be if I had something to lose. But I have nothing left to live for," Nate says.

I don't response. What is there to say? I still don't know enough about him to convince him otherwise.

"Anyway," he says, "now it's your turn. Tell me about yourself."

It's easier to talk now that I'm staring up at the sky. I feel at home when I'm lying beneath the stars. "Okay, well, I'm seventeen. I love gardening and reading. Reading especially. I'm a vegetarian by choice, which everyone seems to think is funny, but it isn't, so don't laugh. Growing up could have been a lot harder, but my group, my family, made it easy for me. They always made sure I was taken care of. Especially my dad," I say, and it's as if I'm discovering it now for the first time. "He called me his Tiger Lily because of my hair, even though I get it from him. I miss him."

"What's your favorite color?" Nate asks without skipping a beat.

"Blue. Light blue, like the sky."

"Do you have any special skills? Like in combat?" he asks.

"Is this an interrogation or something?" I ask, leaning up to see him.

He smiles. "No, I just want to learn as much as I can."

"Um... I'm pretty good with a slingshot. And I beat you up earlier."

"So you're not some crazy warrior or anything?"

"No," I say, with a laugh. "But you of all people know that if someone is hurting my friends or my family, I will attack."

He smiles. "Yeah, that's definitely true."

"So who knows what I'll be capable of when I get to the bunker."

"In that case," he says, "I hope I can help you get your friend back so you won't have to do anything too crazy."

"Deal." We smile at each other, and for a moment, it feels normal. Like we've known each other for years, not just a few feud-filled days. But then his eyes reflect some of the starlight, and I miss the light from Daniel's eyes.

My stomach twists thinking about how horrible he would feel if he saw me practically lying here with Nate. I don't ever want to make him feel that way again. When I was fifteen and Daniel was sixteen, we started spending a lot of time with the neighbor boy from down the road, one of the first people the Prowlers ever took from our community. His name was Ian and he was cute enough. His black hair was always trimmed close to his scalp, making his round head look like a furry black and tan ball; but his eyes were bright blue, like jewels.

One day, the three of us went to hang out by the river, and Ian taught me how to skip stones, even though I already knew. Daniel kept making excuses to leave: "We have to go help hunt," and, "aren't you cooking dinner tonight, Isla?"

Ian stood behind me, his hands on my hips, showing me how to move into the throw, and every time I looked at Daniel his eyes would widen, as if they were screaming for us to leave; but I just shook my head. I didn't particularly like Ian, but I liked the attention. I can admit that now.

Then Ian said something that grossed me out. "Isla, maybe you and I could hang out alone next time, and practice some other moves."

But before I could express my disgust, Daniel said, "That's it," and felt him tug at my hand. He walked ahead, back through the field of wild grass and tiger lilies, pulling me after him; and since I wasn't at all interested in seeing any of Ian's other moves, I yelled back, "No way! See you around!"

Once we were a safe distance from the river, Daniel slowed down and let go of my hand. "That was a little unnecessary, don't you think?" I asked.

He paced around for a bit before finally facing me, his browned summer skin red with anger. "Would you have really gone out with that guy?"

I laughed.

"I'm not playing, Isla."

"No, of course not."

"Why, of course not? It seemed to me like you two were having a good time."

"Because Ian Becker uses lines like 'maybe we could practice other moves.'" I laughed.

"I don't think it's funny Isla, if you're not interested in him, you can't let him touch you like that," he said.

"Well, then, how am I supposed to find the right guy for me, Daniel? Aren't you looking for girls too?"

Just a day before I had seen Daniel talking with a town girl while we were on a food run, and it had made me so angry, I picked a fight with him. Of course I told him I was mad because he only brought back jerked meats, but I was still holding onto that anger, which was why I had allowed Ian Becker to teach me something I already knew and hold my hips in front of Daniel.

"No, I'm not," he asserted.

"Then how are you supposed to find anyone?"

"I thought I already had!"

The wind brushed the grass against us, and we stopped. I stared at him, trying to decide whether or not he was being serious—we were always joking with one another—but he just stared back at me with that faraway look in his eyes. Part of me already loved him, but part of me still thought of him as the fun-loving friend I had grown up with.

He stepped closer to me and held my hands. I knew he wanted to kiss me then—and I should have let him—but instead, I pulled away and said, "Let's just enjoy our time together as friends. I won't talk to Ian anymore, I promise." He still looked concerned, pushing his tightly curled hair back through his fingers, so I grabbed his hands again. "Can we go back to normal now? If we start... you know, like, dating...we will never be able to go back to just being us. You know? Our parents will get into all of our business and start following us around and pressuring us, and I don't want all of that right now. Is that okay?"

He dropped my hands, and pulled me into a hug, squeezing tightly. "I'll wait," he said into my ear, and kissed my cheek.

I wonder if he knew then that we were always supposed to be together, that we were born for each other, and that's why he was okay with all of my antics: Because he knew one day we'd both settle down and everything would be as it should.

I am so engrossed in the memory that I don't even realize that a tear has fallen down my cheek. Nate sits up and reaches to wipe the tear away. "I'm fine," I say, sitting up to escape his reach.

"Look," he says, "I know you're engaged or something, but you're different. I always thought it was kind of silly to worry about how I treat people in our world, given the state that it's in and all. But you make me want to be better.We live in a ridiculous world, where you could die any day, and if your goal is to live and let live... That's strength beyond anything I have. You just... fascinate me."

I can't help but smile. It's nice to feel flattered again, but I can't let this continue. "Thank you, but I—"

"I know. Don't worry. I can be your friend."

"Okay. I appreciate it. Well, I should go back to bed now."

I stand and leave before he can object, and once I'm in the hallway, I race to my room before he can even say goodnight.

I fall asleep as soon as I hit the mattress. My thoughts are too muddled with war and chemical structures and rescue missions and smiles to keep me awake now.