Aspen's green eyes found me in the dark, and a reassuring smile danced on his lips. He was slouched across the arm of a plush couch, looking regal in his stark white guard uniform. I clambered across the worn out furniture pieces on the ground, useless old fragments of once luxurious furnishings, and stumbled into his outstretched arms. Sighing, he strokes my hair in soft, rhythmic gestures, content to have me close. This was a rare moment, and one that could only happen in a storage room.

My eyes flickered up to his satisfied face, and he looked down at me with those gentle eyes, sparkling like emeralds. It was then that I realized there were tears in them, brimming to the edges, and his body quivered. I had never once seen Aspen behave like this, and it scared me. Aspen was always strong, funny, and loving; he had never let his vulnerable side show. I suddenly felt an overwhelming guilt at what I had done to him over the past weeks – ever since I had been in the Selection.

Craning my neck up to his head, I brushed the droplets aside and pressed my lips on to his, willing him to feel better. His hand held my head firmly, and he kissed me passionately, not stopping for any breaths. In this kiss I felt his anger and despair, all mixed into one kiss that conveyed certain desperation. Finally, I had to come up for breath, and while doing so, his lips trailed down my neck and up again, repeating the same pattern. Never once did his grip ever loosen, and even then my body was pressed snugly into his, leaving me no room to turn away.

"What's wrong, Aspen?" I questioned, letting out my concern.

"I got a call today," he started, "J-Jemmy, he..."

"What happened to him?" I pressed on. Jemmy was Aspen's beloved younger brother, and his love and dedication for him was almost overwhelming. The only time America had seen Aspen cry was when Jemmy got whipped on the back for stealing fruit.

"The scars on his back got so inflamed it triggered an infection, and now the doctors can't save him, and mother doesn't know what to do."

"What will happen to him?"

"The-There are swells, and he has a high fever, and he can't last, America. He can't. He's so tiny, how can he?

"Shhh... Aspen, shhhh," I reassured, "It will work out."

"How can it?! They won't let me leave the palace because of the recent rebel attacks, and I can't return to see Jemmy either! What can I do?"

With no more reassuring words, I kissed him again, this time stronger than before, hoping to alleviate his pain. His hands trailed to my tailbone, and with a single flip, I lay on the couch, him above me. My fingers were knotted in his dark hair, and our legs were jumbled together, a mess of limbs. I could taste the salt of his tears as my lips caressed his cheek, and I felt tears of my own coming too. Jemmy was such a sweet young boy. Aspen started to unzip the back of my dress, and I caught his hand, sitting up abruptly.

"No, we can't," I firmly stated. "Not here, not in the palace."

"You love him, don't you?" Aspen blankly asked.

"I don't know, Aspen. I love you, but everything Maxon has done for me. I can't repay."

"America, please, this is so painful."

"I'm sorry about Jemmy, and I'm sad too b-"

My unfinished words were cut off suddenly, and I found Aspen's tender lips on mine again. I couldn't resist; I just couldn't. It was if a certain force compelled me to him, and our kisses got deeper. Soon we were in our original position, with half my dress unzipped, and my red hair splayed over the seat.

Then, the lights came on.