The First Glader

16

Ada snorted softly. "You don't even remember sunshine."

"I remember that you're brighter than most things around here. Good enough?" he teased.

Ada rolled her eyes, but her mouth betrayed her with the hint of a smile.

George lowered himself into the grass beside her, close enough that their shoulders brushed. Not on accident. Not aggressively. Just deliberately warm.

For a few minutes they sat in comfortable silence—close, but not rushed.

Then George spoke, quiet but steady. "We should talk."

Ada's stomach tightened. "About...?"

He huffed a breath. "About us."

She looked at him. He wasn't joking this time. No lopsided smirk, no raised brow, no playful nudge. Just honest, open George—the version very few people got to see.

Ada drew in a slow breath. "Okay."

George toyed with a blade of grass between his fingers. "I like you. More than I've liked anything in this shucked place." His voice dipped, rough but vulnerable. "And I know things here are complicated. And I don't want to make your life harder or mess up the Glade. But I need to know if you feel the same."

Ada didn't hesitate. "I do."

George's eyes snapped to hers—bright, surprised, hopeful. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she said softly. "I really do."

His exhale was almost a laugh, the kind that carried relief and disbelief at the same time.

Ada continued before she lost her nerve. "But I need slow. With everything going on... with leading... with the Maze..." She shook her head. "I can't promise anything big right now."

George nodded immediately. "I don't need big. I just need real."

Ada blinked. "What does that look like?"

George leaned forward slightly—not touching her yet—waiting. "It looks like... you tell me when you're overwhelmed. And I'll tell you when I'm being an idiot. And we try. Whatever pace you want."

Ada's chest warmed. "Okay."

"Okay as in... we're something?" he asked, voice softer than she'd ever heard it.

Ada reached out and laced her fingers with his. "Yeah," she whispered. "We're something."

George looked like she'd handed him the moon.

He squeezed her hand gently, leaning his forehead to hers in a moment soft enough to make her heart break and knit itself back together all at once.

And that's when Gally appeared.

Ada didn't hear him approach—he moved quietly for someone built like a brick wall—but George saw him first. The shift in George's expression made Ada turn.

Gally stood a few yards away, arms crossed, jaw set, eyes sharp as polished stone. Not angry. Not jealous.

Protective.

Like a wolf assessing a threat.

"Everything alright?" Ada asked, sitting up straighter.

Gally didn't look at her first.
He looked at George.

George let out a small, incredulous laugh. "Seriously, man? I'm not stabbing her. We're just talking."

Gally's brows pulled tight. "Didn't look like talking."

Ada raised a brow. "Gally."

He shifted, guilt flickering—but only for a moment. "I wasn't trying to eavesdrop. I just—" His eyes flicked to their joined hands, and something in him bristled instinctively. "I didn't know if he was... bothering you."