Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Emilia
When I finish work, I don’t go home. Instead, I march down the street, knocking on every goddamn door until I find Heidi.
The curly haired brunette squeals at the sight of me, launching herself onto the street and wrapping her arms around my neck.
“Oh my god, Mils.” She breathes against my hair. “It’s been too long.”
“It has,” I murmur. “How are you?”
She pulls back, nodding, her smile soft. “Good. It’s… nice here.” She drops her voice, tone reluctant. “As much as I hate to admit it.” I huff out a small laugh, silently agreeing. “Come in, come in.”
Her hand coils around mine as she pulls me into the house. It’s identical to mine, only the stairs are on the left, and their sofa is black, their armchair white. There’s no faint whiskey stain on the carpet either.
“How are you?” she asks softly.
I slide my boots off and give her an award-winning smile. “I’m good.”
She reaches for the door handle, moving to close it. “Mils—”
“Number 14!” a voice calls from outside. Heidi freezes mid-motion, eyes turning back to the street. Curious, I move to her side, crossing my arms across my chest. A short, black-haired man stands on the other side.
“Oh?” He frowns at the sight of me.
“Who are you—”
“Rufus,” Heidi interrupts, cutting me off.
Rufus’ eyes drift back to her. “Don’t look at me like that.
Mils is alright. She lives in Number…” she trails off, glancing back at me.
I shake my head. I’m not about to spill any of my information to some random idiot on the street.
“She’s married,” Heidi chooses to say instead.
“Right, okay.” Rufus rubs the back of his neck, glancing down the street once more, looking entirely unconvinced.
“I work with Rufus,” Heidi tells me, her small smile softening the tension. “He’s good.” I relax a fraction, shifting on my feet and letting my arms drop. “What’s up?” she asks, leaning against the doorframe.
His brow furrows, eyes darting in my direction once more.
Heidi shakes her head, lowering her voice when she tells him, “Seriously, Rufus. Mils is good. She’s the farthest thing from a State sympathiser.”
“What are you—”
“Fine,” Rufus grits out before leaning closer, his voice quiet. “We’re having a small party at Number 22 tonight.”
I blink. “A party?”
A party. Here.
For a second, I just stare at him, waiting for the punchline of the joke, but nothing comes. Just his steady, serious expression, as though what he’s saying is completely normal.
Back at Grafton House, there is absolutely nowhere to hide, nowhere to host a goddamn party. Anyone who tried would get promptly carted off to The Cell by the Enforcers who are never more than four minutes away from the House.
The idea of a party is absurd.
Rufus’ lips purse, and his eyes pan up and down the street. “Don’t worry. We keep the music quiet, and volunteers keep their eyes on the streets for us. Looking out for Enforcers.”
“And that works?” My tone is full of disbelief.
“So far.”
So far. Hardly reassuring, but he says it like it is. My gaze drifts over his head, to the row of houses on the other side of the street—all identical windows and rebuilt bricks and so, so uniform.
My stomach tightens.
This is the State’s prized Sector. Their experiment, their carefully matched couples who they believe are all living happily and at peace with the regime.
And maybe—just maybe—they’re more lenient with monitoring these streets.
“And everyone in the Married Sector just—”
“No,” Rufus interrupts, voice curt. “Most people, but not quite everyone. Some people are State loyalists, you know?”
“This sounds like fun,” Heidi pipes up, smiling as she glances back at me.
Rufus’ eyes pin back on her. “We wanted to welcome you to the street.” His eyes flick to me. “You and your husband, too, if Heidi says you’re okay.”
I don’t react.
Zac won’t be there. Even if I do see him, I’m not mentioning it.
Heidi beams at me before nodding at Rufus. “We’ll be there,” she tells him.
Celebrations are small slices of heaven in this shitstorm. Breaks from reality. Distractions from the monotony of the rest of our lives. Even just the idea of a party is fun.
But an hour into it, all I feel is out of place.
I’m perched on the kitchen counter in the corner of some older couple’s house, tipping a bottle of beer into my mouth and desperately trying to get drunk.
Couples of all ages gyrate against each other as they dance to the low music in the living room. Others laugh and joke with one another, surrounding but ignoring me in the kitchen.
I seem to be the only one here on my own.
A scoff slips through my lips before I take another long drag of alcohol.
I’m in a black mini-dress that Rayden has always loved. It’s slinky and straight cut, made from cheap, fake satin. My naturally wavy hair hangs loose over my shoulders, and my eye make-up is dark and dramatic.
“Mils!” I hear my name before I spot her beyond the crowd. Heidi shoves her way through, grinning when she reaches me.
“Hey,” I reply, smiling before I lift the bottle to my lips. I shuffle to the edge of the counter, closer to her, legs dangling.
“You look good,” she says, eyes darting over my frame.
I grin, taking in her tight, dark pink top and the way she’s pulled her curly locks up on top of her head. “So do you.”
Her smile only widens before she drags her teeth over her bottom lip. “I can’t believe we’re at a party.”
I scoff, taking another sip of my drink. “Do you really think the Enforcers won’t find us?”
“Rufus says they do this often—”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
Heidi leans closer, resting one hand on the counter beside me and catching my eyes with hers. “I hope they don’t. And judging by the fact that we’re both here, I’d say I’m not the only one clinging to that sliver of delusional hope.”
A small huff of a chuckle escapes my lips, and she smiles. I offer her my bottle, but she shakes her head, pulling back from the counter.
“Where’s… Zachary?” she asks.
I didn’t tell her I had no intention of letting him know about this secret celebration. And either way, I haven’t seen him.
Makes my life easier.
“Fuck knows,” I say honestly. “Sam?”
“He’s getting me a drink,” she replies, a small frown appearing between her brows. “I’m so sorry your match isn’t shaping out well—”
“Never expected it to,” I cut her off with a smirk. Reaching out, I place a hand on her shoulder. “You got a good one. That’s what matters.”
“I want you to be happy.” Heidi’s frown deepens, and she grabs my hand, interlacing her fingers with mine.
“I am,” I tell her, and honestly, I’m not sure whether I’m lying or not. I grin, pointing the bottle at her. “I never wanted to be tied to anyone.”
“You can’t get out of this, Mils…” she points out reluctantly.
“I know,” I say with a shrug. Slowly, I down the rest of my drink, bubbles tickling my throat.
She bites her lip. “There’s just so many rules. So many bloody laws for us to follow—”
“What?” I mutter, nose wrinkling.
“Hey!” Sam suddenly appears next to her, handing Heidi a can of cider before offering one to me. “Figured you’d need one.”
I take the extra fuel from his hands. “You’re the best.”
He grins before reaching out, hooking an arm around me and pulling me into his side. It’s awkward with me perched up on the counter, but it’s comforting nonetheless. I smile as I squeeze him back, the scent of sour apples from that God awful shampoo he insists on buying washing over me.
When he pulls back, his expression shifts to something more serious. “You okay?” he asks.
I nod. “Yeah. I’m okay.” I tilt my head and smile. “You?”
He nods once. “Yeah.” His gaze flicks over me, like he’s checking I’m telling the truth. “Your house okay?”
I glance down at the drinks in my hands, rolling the neck of the bottle slightly between my fingers before looking back up. “It’s nicer than Grafton.”
He smirks. “Yeah. Brook too,” he says. “That’s not hard, though.” I smile in agreement, leaning sideways and nudging him playfully with my shoulder. “Still,” he adds, meeting my eyes. “I’m happy to see you.”
Something warm settles under my ribs, but I just grin. “You too, Sam.”
“Where’s Zachary?” he asks. Heidi’s elbow slams into his ribs, and he grunts, making the edges of my lips quirk at the sight.
It’s a popular question; one I wish I didn’t care about.
But for some goddamn reason, I do. Ever since he left yesterday morning, curiosity has been a parasite attacking my brain.
Who is he? Where did he come from? Why haven’t I seen him before?
In a place this small, strangers are rare—and yet I don’t think I’d ever seen him before The Matching. I don’t know where it comes from, but with alcohol loosening my tongue, what spills out is far from what I should be concerned with.
“Fucking someone, I’d imagine,” I say.
Where the fuck did that come from?
“He can’t do that,” Sam mutters. The couple in front of me is frowning like their lives depend on it, and I smile at their outrage. Their care is cute.
Over Sam’s shoulder, a familiar figure catches my eye. The blond leans against the living room doorframe, watching people dance under the dimmed lights.
Rayden.
His red plaid shirt is rolled up to his elbows, forearms flexing as he lifts a drink. His skin is smooth and unmarked. No ink curls over his wrists, no traces of black lines that defy State law.
Flawless.
I drag my gaze back to his face, warmth funneling up through my gut.
And suddenly, I know exactly what I need to do to improve my night.
“Your protectiveness is cute,” I say to Sam before hopping off the edge of the counter. I hand my can to Heidi and give them both a quick smile. “I’ll be back.”
I inch past them, tugging my dress down and raking my hands through my hair.
Rayden doesn’t spot me until I’m only six inches away, staring up at him. It’s too loud to speak so I just grab his forearm, fingers tight around the solid muscle, and pull.