The One: Maxon

Chapter 19

I spent the majority of the day thinking of America and going on strolls with some of the ladies. Come dinner time, America had returned and joined us. I tugged my ear at the same time as her and smiled as I bit into my food.

I knocked on the door and entered her room as the door opened.

"Oh! Your Highness," said the woman who I assumed was one of America's maids.

"Good evening, would you mind telling me your name?" She gave me a blank stare and then blinked slowly before answering.

"Me? Oh,um I'm Mary, your Majesty," she said with a curtsy. I smiled.

"Pleased to meet you Mary. Anne I met last night, and you?" I asked referring to the smaller framed woman standing right behind Mary.

"I'm Lucy," she squeaked. I smiled at them.

"Great to properly meet you all. Could I have a moment alone with America please?" They curtsied and left, giggling. I moved further into the room and noticed America exiting the bathroom dressed in a silk robe.

"Hey," I said.

"Hi, what was all that about? Asking about their names?" she asked.

"I thought it was high time I knew the people that take such good care of you, especially after the other night. It was quite embarrassing when Officer Leger mentioned Lucy and I couldn't picture a face with it. I should have learned their names months ago." She smiled at me. I was about to approach her but then I hesitated, unsure of whether it was a good idea or not.

"Maxon, I'm fine," she sighed, seeming to notice my aphrension.

"If my memory is clear, you were shot last night. You can't exactly blame me for being worried."

"It wasn't a real bullet wound, you know. It only grazed me."

"Grazed, shmazed. I won't too quickly forget the muffled screams as Anne sewed you back together last night." America crinkled her nose at me. "You should be resting," I said, approaching her.

"Maxon, you're being over drama- woah!" she said as I pushed her onto the bed. My leg got caught between her own as she stumbled, causing me to fall on top of her. Before I could crush her with my weight, I placed my hands out in front of me so that I was caging her under my body. Our faces were extremely close, enough so that I could feel her warm breath fan over my face. Her gaze flickered between my eyes and my lips, inviting me. I could feel my skin flush as I quickly stood.

"Sorry, I-um, I didn't mean to be so hard. I mean, to push you so hard!" I stuttered. America stared at me for a few moments before laughing. She crawled to the top of her bed and pulled the cover and sheets back while I mentally kicked myself over and over. She got underneath and pat the section next to her. To retain as much control I had left, I pulled the covers back over her and lay on top of them, on my side. I simply stared at her face again, like the night we shared under the stars, admiring her. I pushed a stray piece of hair away from her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. Letting my fingertips slowly grace her skin, I brushed her cheek. She hummed and nuzzled her face in my hand, closing her eyes for a moment.

She looked different since the incident. Not a bad different, but as if she had matured. Her eyes held a hardness that wasn't there before, like she had seen things, like she knew things. The lines in her face were more defined, mostly her forehead from too much thinking and worrying. And her lips, her lips were bruised slightly. I was sure her maids as noticed and had been applying ointment to them, but America had a habit of biting her lip when she was stressed and I could tell. The dark circles under her eyes were more noticeable without makeup to conceal them now.

"If something had happened—" I began with a tight voice.

"But it didn't."

I rolled my eyes. "Are you being serious? You came back home with a gushing and dirty wound on your arm. We nearly lost you, I nearly lost you, America," I said more seriously. I hoped she hadn't noticed that I had said 'home' more like 'herme' because I wasn't sure if she wanted to call it home yet.

"I don't regret it," she said calmly. "I wasn't going to let you go without me and I wanted to go." Her mouth was pressed in a firm line like she really believed what she was saying. "With you," she added.

"I can't believe how unprepared we were," I groaned frustratingly. "We went in to a desolate place 'disguised' with a food truck and thought there wouldn't be rebels hiding around? How stupid was I? Since when are they not hiding? And where did they get guns for godssake? I feel so helpless, America. Like I'm losing the country I love more and more each day. That and I nearly lost my world last night," I rambled.

"You wouldn't have lost your last night, Maxon. The rebels may hate the royal family, but it doesn't mean the end of the country," she said.

"I'm not talking about the country, love. I'm talking about you." America's eyes widened slightly as heat crept up her cheeks. "Last night...you started to say something about us. About...love?"

America tried to hide her face in the pillows. "Ah, yes. I do remember that," she said without further elaboration.

"Isn't it funny how you can think you've said something when you never did?" America giggled, failing miserably to contain her blush. I smiled.

"It's also funny how you can think you've heard something when you didn't either," I said. America's giggled stopped abruptly. I moved my hand from caressing her cheek down to her own hand and laced them together.

"Maybe, for some people, it would be hard to confess something like that. Maybe they're worried they won't be able to come out in one piece." We were tiptoeing around the obvious, revealing only portions of the truth about our feelings through hypotheticals.

"It could also, potentially, be hard to say if one was worried that a someone might not want to make it to the end. Perhaps if they never quite gave up on someone else..." My breath hitched at the end of the sentence. I had been careful and cautious to not reveal to much about my worries in fear that there might be some truth to them, but I had already said it now. No doubt that America knew exactly what I meant.

"That's not-"

"Okay," I said. I didn't want to argue with her tonight. We lay in silence for nearly too long. I didn't know why she wouldn't say it.

I knew how I felt but the crippling fear that the only person I had ever had feelings this strong for would reject me was something I wanted to avoid at all costs. We had beat around the bush, we had danced around possibilities, but the moment things got serious neither of us could make that jump. I was afraid that if I confessed to her how I felt and she realized that she still hadn't gotten over her ex that I would be alone. I wasn't sure I would ever be able to follow this feeling with anyone else. If we continued this dance around fire and eventually time became the bane of our relationship, I still had Kriss. I felt awful for keeping her as a contingency but I really did like her. I appreciated our relationship, more so than Daphne who felt that I had broken her heart, but it still wasn't love. What I had with America, it's love. At least it feels like it. I don't know and have never known what it really looks like or feels like. Maybe I needed to talk to Marlee.

"Can we talk about this when I feel a little better?" she asked.

"Of course, how thoughtless of me," I said sitting up.

"No, don't leave. It's just that I want to talk to you about something else."

"Go on," I urged.

"I thought about which guest I want to invite for the upcoming tea party and I have a plan for the...conversations with August too." I leaned on my elbow and turned to face her head on.

"Tell me everything."