The Undesirable (Undesirable Series) (8 page)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

In a cold sweat, I jolted awake in the Murphy bed the next morning. The sheets wrapped around me so tight they restricted the blood flow to my legs. I lay in the bed for a few minutes and counted the grooves in the ceiling.

I still tasted Fostino on my lips. First, his lips had brushed mine. Just once.

“You’re so beautiful, Charlotte,” he’d whispered.

I’d pressed up against him on the apartment floor. A charge filled the air around us as time slowed down. The kisses turned from one to two, and then to five. They went on and on, pulsating and intensifying with each one. I held on to his muscular chest adorned with all the medals and insignia; I smiled under the tickle of stubble on his chin. When he pulled me closer, my hand found a place behind his neck and I never wanted to let him go.

We only stopped when the Hologram Watch reminded Fostino of his duties.

I thought about those moments the whole day. I stitched each kiss into the shirts I made. I saw his face when the government propaganda played on the huge monitors at the factory. I wondered if he would leave me another note in the fabric spool. I saw Fostino everywhere. His final words to me echoed through my head. All day I waited for the clock to tick to 7:00 PM. Once it did, I rushed to the apartment and shut myself inside.

I went to the bathroom and peered into the small mirror above the sink. My hand ran a brush through my hair and I dotted a thin amount of lip-gloss on my lips. Then I focused on my face. I never saw much beauty when I gazed at myself, but I knew Fostino and others did. I wanted to be beautiful for him.

Unsatisfied with what I saw in the mirror, I turned away and waited for Fostino in the living room. Bored after a few minutes, I turned on the 4-D TV. I took one large step back when the screen buzzed on.

“Oh, you work today,” I said to it before I could stop myself. On the screen, state media showed video of Maxwell Cooper and his wife Patricia at a ribbon cutting for a War Memorial in Chicago. After that came a clip of the two of them getting on Air Force One, flanked by their two sons, and then some video of them arriving at a state dinner with generals from The Party.

Fostino was much later than I expected. He didn’t knock at the apartment door until well after 10:00 PM, and well after his patrol shift. By that time, a Hollywood produced movie about economic struggles in Canada had almost finished. When I opened the door, he wore a distressed expression.

“What’s wrong?” I pulled him inside the studio. “What’s happened?”

“It’s the patrols.” Fostino got a glass of water from the bathroom sink. “They’re getting harder,” he said in between gulps. His brow furrowed. “Char, so many Undesirables live in our town.”

“Really?” I leaned up against the bathroom doorframe, incredulous. “Come on.”

“Yes, really.” He slammed the glass down on the sink ledge. He came out of the bathroom and sat on the sofa. “Remember what they told us in school about all those people who spy on us for Canada? It’s all coming true.”

“Did you arrest people tonight?” I asked as I flopped on the Murphy bed. 

“Yes.” He broke my gaze and fixated on the TV. State media now showed a movie about how horrible life in Canada had turned since the beginning of The War.

“How many?” I whispered my question.

“Fifteen,” he replied. He took off his jacket and revealed a grey t-shirt to match his cargo pants. “All on evidence of membership in the SSR.”

“I heard about the SSR.” I pulled my hair into a ponytail.

“But, you don’t know what I know,” he informed me with a raised eyebrow. “The SSR is not just the enemy. They will undo us. Even now, they might have bugged this apartment. Don’t trust them. They claim they know the way to freedom— whatever freedom is to them. It’s lies.” He stood up and then changed the subject. “Listen, before I forget, I brought you something.” Fostino crossed the room and opened the door to the apartment. He stepped outside and then brought a small bag back in. “It’s an orange.” He pulled a small one out of the sack, crossed the room, and handed it to me. 

My mouth watered and I smiled at him. “Last time I ate one of these had to be four years ago.” I took the fruit and held it up. The citrus smell tingled against my nose. “This is very nice of you.”

“I thought you’d like it. Farrah likes it, too. I gave her some earlier before I left the house.” His eyes glittered with mischief as he grinned back at me. He sat down on the loveseat again. “We got a shipment in today at the store. You know, for The Party. I managed to swipe it when dad took out the trash.”

I got up from the bed and sat down next to him on the loveseat. Fostino took the orange and peeled the first of the rind away. It looked delicious. He handed the first bite to me.

“You know, we sell this in the store for 15 stamps a piece.” He gave me a rueful smile. “Dad says that’s because it’s so expensive to send anything anywhere on a truck.” He took the second bite. “Especially from Florida, where this one came from.”

The sugary tartness of the orange slice dissolved on my mouth. I hadn’t tasted something this nice in a long time.

“I can’t believe you brought me this,” I said. He had taken a huge risk here, and I tasted my guilt in the few bites of the orange. “I don’t deserve all this.”

He shook his head. “I figured you didn’t eat much in the last few days.” He eyed my bony arms. 

“You know I haven’t,” I said between bites. “No one has much food, anyway. And then we just get cans of tomato juice and peanut butter sandwiches for lunch at the factory.”

“I know,” he admitted. “They feed us a little better. Sometimes we get pieces of bacon for breakfast and granola.” 

My eyes narrowed as my thoughts shifted to all he told me over the last few days. “Do you believe what they say? Do you really think there so many bad people live in our town? In our country?”

Fostino’s eyes darkened. “I believe some people in our town want to sabotage our country. The same people want to make things harder.”

“But—”

He cut me off with one stiff hand. “You need to understand.” He leaned in closer to me. “This…all this that’s happening, it’s for our benefit. It will take us somewhere — to a better life. Canada won’t win The War.”

“I don’t get it. What does Harrison Corners have to do with winning The War?” I stammered out my whisper. “And what about my mother?”

Fostino sighed. “Sometimes in life, shit happens,” he said in a cold voice even as his free hand reached up and played with my hair.

“What? My mother? You wouldn’t talk about Farrah that way!” Outrage coursed through me. No way had he really believed that.

Right?

The blood drained from his face. “I’m sorry. Not what I meant. I meant in life, sometimes stuff happens we can’t explain.” He ran a hand though his hair. “Jesus, I am sorry.”

“Sorry? You’re sorry?”

He put a hand on his forehead. “God, I am so stupid. I shouldn’t have said that. I just—” He broke off as if helpless for what to say next.

“My mom was a drunk. Everyone knew that. But it doesn’t make it okay that they shot her.” I glared at him, still angry.

“It’s not. You’re right,” he whispered. “This is such a struggle for me. I’m not supposed to do all this. They told us at drill not to get involved, that we had to make sure we found out who in Harrison Corners is working for Canada, who is Harrison Corners is really an Undesirable.”

I blinked, confused to no end. “So why help me?” I asked. “Why do all this for me?”

“Well, I want you to make it through all this.” His voice warmed. “I want you there when things get better. I know they will. They’ve got to.” Fostino brushed my hair out of my face and his lips found mine once again.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

This time, no alarm from a Hologram Watch stopped us. Fostino kissed me deeply for a few moments, knocked what remained of the orange on the floor, and pulled me down so my back angled between the arm of the loveseat and the cushion. My left hand framed his face and held his chin to me as I returned every single caress. His lips tasted sensuous and it stirred the pit of my stomach. Irresistible. I wanted him. 

“Oh, wow,” I breathed. My heart quickened.

“Oh, wow is right. It’s getting late, Char.” Fostino smiled and stood up. I wondered how many girls at school he kissed this way and how far he had gone with someone else. He held his right hand out to me.

“Wait. What? You’re leaving?” I asked as I took his hand and stood up.

Fostino molded his body to mine and cupped the nape of my neck. He fixed his eyes on mine. “Do you want me to?” He kept his voice soft.

“No,” I admitted. The answer surprised me. I glanced from him to the Murphy bed and back again.

Oh. My. God. Would we have sex?

“Good,” he said in an even tone and leaned in to kiss me some more. So wonderful. So sensuous. So right.

Before I knew it, Fostino pulled me to the unfolded bed. This time the kisses came with a force— he wanted something. He rolled me around on the bed so he lay on top of me. His lips brushed my forehead, my eyebrows, my left cheek, and the tip of my nose. I hung on to the collar of his shirt.

While we kissed, my mind raced faster than a hamster on a cage’s treadmill. It happened very fast; it all seemed so alluring. I was like an alcoholic with the world’s best wine bottle open right in front of me. I wanted to go down this road. I wanted to submit to the moment and lose myself in the fantasy.

Then I saw flashes of my mother.

I remembered the men who floated in and out of her bedroom; I thought about the money they left on the table. I remembered the way they sometimes yelled drunken curse words at her. All of it swirled through my head with such force that when Fostino pushed the hem of my black dress to the top of my skinny thighs, I pulled away from his embrace and put my hand on his chest to stop him.

“I can’t.” I shook my head.

“You can’t.” He held his head arched above mine.

“It’s too much,” I said, and he rolled off me. I bit my lip. “I won’t. Not like this. Not right now. I don’t know—”

“Okay,” he said, and sat up. I listened for disappointment in his voice and thanked God when I didn’t hear it.

“It’s so complicated.” I put my hand on my forehead, more embarrassed than I had ever been. 

“Try me.” Fostino reached over and cradled my neck.

I focused on the popcorn ceiling and took a few breaths. I willed my blood not to boil. I forced my stomach to stop twisting in knots.

“It’s stuff with my mother,” I admitted. “I just never… I never want to be like her.” Fostino still watched me. “She, well, she had so many men,” I stammered. “She made me sick. All the time. Everyone knows she got paid for—”

“Sex?” he supplied and raised one gorgeous dark eyebrow.

“Yes.” I flushed redder than a tomato. Fostino nodded and pursed his lips.

God, how embarrassing.

“I know you’re not your mother.” Fostino balanced his head on his left arm and looked into my eyes. “Can you trust me at least about that?” Fostino looked so handsome, so mysterious, so safe, and so dangerous all at once.

“I trust you. I think,” I breathed. I traced my index finger along his jaw. “I want to trust you.”

“Good,” he whispered before he leaned down and his lips found mine once more. One kiss turned into five, then ten, then twenty. Fostino’s hand slid to my side; his fingers skimmed over the black dress before they squeezed my hip as the moment deepened. His tongue circled as his lips pushed against mine, comforting and illicit. I knew I didn’t want to stop.

Fostino pulled on one of the thick sleeves of the dress. I reached up through the small space between us and pulled open the first button of my dress. Past the point of caring about anything anymore, past the point of worrying what anything meant, I reached for the second button. That’s when Fostino pulled away.

“No,” he said. He shook his head to emphasize his words. “We shouldn’t do this.” His eyes glinted a little. “Not after what you told me. I won’t do that to you.”

I blinked twice, unable to hide my surprise and disappointment. “Okay.” 

Fostino held his body above me. His chest muscles stiffened. “I don’t want this to be random,” he said. “I don’t want this to mean nothing. Not this time. Not like this.” I held my eyes on his as I tried to process what he said. “I want you, but it’s more. I want to protect you. I want to make sure you survive. I want you to still be here when The War ends, whenever that might be.”

“No one’s ever wanted to help me before. No one has ever really cared,” I admitted. I gulped. “No one.”

“That’s terrible,” he said. “I’ll change that.” I took in his words. I’d never been this close to anyone. Then suddenly, exhaustion overwhelmed me. I yawned.

“I need to go to sleep.” I didn’t care I hadn’t made it underneath the blanket on the bed.

“You do need to sleep,” he said. “Me, too.” He stroked my hair with his right hand.

“Mm mm.” Each muscle relaxed in my tight back. Fostino got up and flipped off the single fluorescent light anchored to the popcorn ceiling before he pulled one side of the blanket so it covered my legs. Moments later, sleep took over my body.