Expiration Date (Books 1 and 2)

36 Constellations

"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.

Thank you for any votes and comments!

Instagram: @mikaelabender

#Bookstagram account on Instagram: @oflightsandfaeries

Twitter: @MikaelaBender

TikTok: @MikaelaBender