"Just as, you know, a precaution," Maria added. She bent down and picked up a soda can off the floor, then stared at it as if she'd never seen one before.
"I think you'd all be more comfortable discussing me if I wasn't here," Trevor said suddenly. Then he turned on his heel and strode toward the door.
"I'm coming with you," Michael called after him. But Max grabbed his arm before he could move.
Michael jerked his arm away. He stumbled backward, ramming into one of the glass display cases.
"I can't believe that you just did that. I can't believe that you all-" He stopped. There were no words that could explain how he felt right now. They'd all betrayed him, and they didn't even know it.
"We didn't say that Trevor had done anything wrong. We just need to talk it through," Maria said softly, talking to Michael as if he were some kind of wild animal that needed to be coaxed back into its cage.
"No!" Michael shouted. "No!" He slammed his fist down onto the case, and the top shattered. Shards of glass speared into his skin. Michael squeezed his fingers even tighter against his palm, forcing the glass in deeper, welcoming the pain.
"Let me heal that for you," Max said, in the same soft voice Maria had been using.
"I don't need anything from you," Michael shot back. He'd never thought he'd say those words to Max, Max, who'd always been there for him. But Michael meant the words, every one of them.
There was a choice to be made here, and he was making it. He turned on his heel and started toward the door.
"Don't," Max ordered. "The consciousness said Trevor was dangerous. He could turn on you the second you're alone."
Michael shot a glance at Max over his shoulder. "You don't get it, do you?" he asked. "He's my brother."
He sprinted out the door into the dark night. Trevor was already more than a block away. Without hesitation Michael took off after him.
Adam swept the floor of the empty museum. He wasn't sure what he was going to do when he was finished.
Should he go look for Michael? He'd been gone for more than three hours. Adam grabbed the dustpan out of the waistband of his jeans, then pushed the pile of dirt into the pan.
I haven't felt any pain or fear or anything from Michael. Or from Trevor, Adam thought. He emptied the dustpan into the garbage can behind the information counter. So they're probably okay.
He did a scan of the museum, hoping there was some other party cleanup task to keep him busy. When his eyes passed over the big front window, he felt an itchy sensation go from the top of his neck all the way to the base of his spine. Windows still sort of gave him the creeps sometimes. Gave him that feeling of huge amounts of space out there, waiting to bear down on him.
Adam touched the sunglasses in his pocket but didn't put them on. They'd been a present from Liz when he first got out of the compound. She'd thought they'd help cut down on the bewildering and dazzling stimuli that was part of everyday life aboveground. And they'd worked. But Adam liked the dazzle, even when it made him feel a little nuts.
He put the broom and the dustpan in the little closet behind the counter, then hesitated. He couldn't shake the feeling that he should be doing something-like maybe going to talk to Max and Isabel and see if the three of them could figure out some course of action to deal with the Trevor situation. Adam figured it was better than going upstairs and sitting on his butt, just hoping everything was okay with Michael.
He hurried to the front door and realized there was someone standing on the other side. Liz.
Adam's fingers shook as he fumbled with the lock and opened the door for her. His heart contracted as he saw that her eyes were red from crying and that her aura had crimson splotches of anger almost completely obscured by a thick webbing of the dark purple that signified deep grief.
"I guess you heard about Michael and Trevor," he began.
Liz dropped a gym bag on the floor. "Do you think I could stay here with you guys for a while? I'd go to Maria's, but I'm sure my father would find me and drag me home."
Obviously this wasn't about Michael and Trevor. "Of course you can stay," Adam told her. "Stay as long as you want. But Liz, what's wrong?"
"I had a fight with my papa," she answered, twisting her long dark hair into a knot on top of her head. "A fight. That sounds so minor." Her voice broke, and Adam saw fresh tears begin to fall down her cheeks. "I don't know if he'll ever talk to me again. I don't know if I'm ever going to be able to go home."
She covered her face with her hands, but she couldn't hide the fact that her shoulders were heaving with sobs, sobs Adam could almost feel shaking his own body.
What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to say? A guy who hadn't lived his life underground would know. A guy who wasn't a total freakazoid would know exactly how to comfort her.
He took a tentative step toward Liz, and then she flung herself at him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed her face against the front of his T-shirt. He could feel her warm tears soaking through the material to his skin.
"It's okay," he whispered, feeling totally helpless and useless. "Everything is going to be okay."
She shook her head, her face still pressed against him, and her hair tumbled back down. Adam reached out and combed his fingers through it in long, even strokes. "It really is going to be okay," he repeated.
He tried to keep his thoughts away from the fact that Liz's body was touching his. This was so not the time. But his skin turned to fire at every contact point, and Adam could hardly breathe with wanting her. His hands longed to explore the curves of her body, experience the texture of her skin. Adam denied them. He kept lightly brushing Liz's hair.
He remembered having a nightmare when he was a little boy in the compound. One of the guards, a woman, had come into his glass cell and sat on his bed. She'd stroked his hair until he'd fallen back asleep. That was what Liz needed from him right now. Warmth, not heat.
Gradually the sobs shuddering through her body grew gentler, then stopped. Liz lifted her head.
"Sorry," she mumbled without looking at him. She brushed at the wet spot on the front of his T-shirt, the light pressure of her fingers sending jolts through his body. "Sorry I bawled all over you."
He gently pulled her hand away from his shirt. "Don't worry about it." He started to release her, but her fingers twined around his. Adam marveled at how he could feel that touch all the way down to the arches of his feet.
"You're so sweet," Liz said, finally looking at him. They were almost exactly the same height, so her dark brown eyes met his evenly. She leaned closer and kissed him on the corner of his mouth. Adam didn't have a chance to react before it was over, before his first kiss ever was over.
"You're sweet, too," Adam answered, although the word was totally inadequate to describe Liz. His eyes dropped to her lips, her beautifully shaped, beautifully full lips. Michael said it's okay for friends to kiss, he thought.
It was as if the thought propelled him forward. He hesitated with his lips a fraction of an inch away from hers. She didn't pull away, so he kissed her, a kiss only seconds longer than hers had been.
Or at least it would have been that short if Liz hadn't cupped the back of his head with one hand, keeping his mouth on hers. It's like all my molecules are… dancing, Adam thought fuzzily.
Then he felt Liz's tongue teasing open his lips, and all thought slammed to a halt. Adam was thrown into a universe of pure sensation-hot, wet, sweet.
Liz.
Adam pulled Liz closer, greedy for even more. She responded by sliding her hands up under his shirt, her palms running across his bare back.
He pushed her thick hair to one side so his fingers could taste the skin at the base of her neck. He felt a little shiver rip through her, and he was awed by the realization that he could have that effect on her. On Liz.