“Are you all right?” he asked.

I nodded my head . . . then I shook it. “I really don’t know.”

He put his hands on my shoulders. “Everything’s okay.”

I was so overwhelmed, I pressed my lips into his, knowing that would make everything else stop for a minute.

“Ow!” he cried, backing away.

“Sorry! I just—”

He grabbed me by the wrist and swung me into the nearest room, slammed the door, and pushed me against the wall. He kissed me harder than I’d kissed him, apparently not bothered by his lip so much if he knew what was coming.

“What’s this all about?” he breathed.

“I don’t want to think. Just kiss me.”

Without a word, Kile drew me to him, his hands lost in my hair. I grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, holding on to him tightly.

And it worked. As we swayed together, everything else stopped mattering for a little while. His lips moved from my mouth and onto my neck. These kisses were different than before. They were aggressive and demanding, pulling all my focus. Without thinking about it, I dragged his shirt upward.

He laughed devilishly into my cheek. “Okay, if clothes are coming off, we really ought to go to a room. And you should probably know my middle name.”

“Is it Ashton? Arthur? I feel like it starts with an A.”

“Not even close.”

I sighed, letting go of his clothes. “Fine.”

He leaned back, his arms still around my waist, smirking at me. “Are you all right? I know last night was kind of scary.”

“I just didn’t expect it. It was asparagus. . . . He literally punched someone over a vegetable.”

Kile laughed. “See, this is why you stick with butter.”

“Oh, you and your stupid butter.” I shook my head, tracing a finger down his chest. “I’m really sorry about your lip. Does anything else hurt?”

“My stomach. He elbowed me a few times trying to get free, but I’m surprised I didn’t get it worse. Henri’s eye looks painful. Glad he didn’t get hit an inch lower.”

I grimaced, thinking about how bad it could have been. “Kile, would you have kicked them both out? If you were in my position?”

“I think I would have even had to consider Henri and me if I were you,” he replied.

“But you both tried to stop it.”

He raised a finger. “True. You know that because you were there. But the others have seen the papers, and the pictures make it look like we were all involved.”

“So keeping Fox, Henri, and you makes it seem as if you got away with something?”

“And that maybe others could, too.”

“This day just gets worse.” I sighed, running my fingers through my hair and propping myself up against the wall.

“Is my kissing that bad?”

I started laughing, thinking back to the other night in my room. It had seemed so alien when Kile wanted to talk to me, but I wasn’t completely sure why I thought that now. I could have had a new outlet, a new perspective this whole time.

“Why haven’t we really talked before? It’s so easy.”

He shrugged. “You’re the one in charge here. What do you think?”

I looked down, embarrassed to say it. “I think I held Josie against you. The constant imitation drives me crazy.”

“I think I held the palace against you. It’s our parents’ fault, not yours, but I lumped you in since you were going to be queen.”

“I can understand that.”

“And I know what you mean about Josie. But it’s hard for her, growing up in your shadow.”

I couldn’t deal with adding Josie to the growing list of things I felt guilty about. I straightened my clothes, knowing that going to work would distract me. “Let’s do something soon. Not a date, just spending some time together.”

That crooked smile spread across his face. “I’d like that.”

He started tucking his shirt back in, and I fought the blush that I could feel on my cheeks. How had I gotten so out of control?

“And, listen,” he said. “Don’t let this stuff get you down. You’re bigger than the Selection.”

“Thanks, Kile.” I kissed his cheek and left, heading to my room.

I remembered how angry I was when I saw his name come up the day of the drawing, like I was being cheated somehow. Now I didn’t care how that form ended up in the pile; I was just glad it did.

I hoped that he felt the same way.

CHAPTER 26

TONIGHT WAS GOING TO BE a challenge. Yes, the pictures with Ean looked fantastic in print, and yes, the little game show clips came off as charming, but I wondered if Gavril would feel obligated to ask about Jack’s and Burke’s dismissals instead of focusing on the remaining candidates.

What was worse was that I wasn’t sure I had much to tell about the boys as it was. Dad was entering his security sweep, so unless the guards moved quickly, I wouldn’t have any dates this week . . . meaning nothing to share on next week’s Report. Tonight had to matter, and I wasn’t sure how to do it.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, like I was missing some key piece of information that would make the Selection process better.

It wasn’t an absolute disaster in my eyes, if only because I got to know Kile, Henri, Hale, and Fox. But as far as the public knew, nearly everything was going down in flames.

Even though I’d only glanced at the paper that day for a millisecond, I remembered the way I looked shrinking down on the parade float. Worse than that, I could still see people on the sidelines pointing and laughing. We’d kicked out two candidates this week alone for misconduct, and in their wake every romantic gesture had been completely overshadowed.

It looked so, so bad.

I sat in my room, sketching, trying to organize my thoughts. There had to be a way to spin this, to turn it into something good.

My pencil zipped across the page, and it felt like each time a line straightened out, so did a problem. I’d probably have to skip talking about my previous dates this week. Bringing up one would require me to bring up them all, and I didn’t want to rehash Jack’s hands on me.

But maybe, instead of events, I could talk about what I knew of the boys. There was enough to praise, and if I came across as enamored by their talents, it would make sense to be confused about who to choose. It wasn’t that the Selection was falling apart; it was that there were too many good choices.

By the time I had a plan, I also had a beautiful design. The dress came up into a halter, was very fitted, and ended mid-thigh. Over it I drew a sheer, long bubble of a skirt that made it look modest. The colors I’d used—a burgundy for the dress and a golden brown for the overskirt—gave it a delicious autumnal feeling.