And I was currently smashed up against a boy that I had kissed!
And at that moment kissing needed to be the furthest thing from my mind!
"What were you and Mr. Solomon talking about?" I said, because, frankly, I really needed to say something!
But Zach must have been immune to the kissing sounds. Or kissing thoughts, because he snapped, "You don't get it, do you?" He twisted me somehow so that our faces were inches away from each other in the black. "This is dangerous,
Cammie," he said, not Gallagher Girl. "This is—"
"Yeah. I kinda figured that out the day I woke up with a concussion."
"Don't make light of this."
"What about 'concussion' is synonymous with 'making light'?"
"You shouldn't be here," he said again slowly, like I wasn't bright enough to keep up.
"You're here," I snapped back.
"Listen, this is no place for…"
"A girl?"
The train may have been swarming with armed guards…My roommate and the potential future first son of the United States may have been making out a few feet away…The world as I knew it may have been on the verge of being over if Zach and I had gotten caught…
But I. Didn't. Care.
"A student?" I tried again. "What, Zach? Tell me what you are that I'm not."
And then my eyes must have adjusted to the black, because I swear I could see him—really, truly see him—as the cockiest boy I'd ever known looked at me and whispered, "I'm someone who doesn't have anything to lose."
Everything else went away then—the noise from outside, the rocking of the car, the pressure, and the fatigue. I don't know what would have happened next. Maybe I would have cried. Maybe I would have given in. Or maybe I would have demanded more answers to the questions I barely dared to ask.
But we'll never know.
Because just as Zach touched my face, the world fell out from underneath us. Gravity took hold. One moment I was lying in the arms of one of the most complex (and gorgeous) boy spies ever, and the next I was landing like a ton of bricks on the hard, cold floor of a moving train while one of my best friends stared down at me. And the boy on top of me. And said, "Well, this wasn't on my agenda."
At least Preston was gone—or at least I thought Preston was gone. I couldn't be too sure because it was taking me a second to get my bearings.
"Ms. McHenry!" a male voice shouted from the other side of the door. "Secret Service! Is everything okay?"
I stared up at Macey. Zach was splayed on top of me, one of his legs tangled with Macey's backpack. A tray of food had fallen with us and was now splattered all over the floor.
Macey looked at us, the most unusual look on her face, as if she knew that, with a single word she could bring that door—and our entire world—crashing down. She smiled, savoring the moment before she slowly said, "Everything's fine. I just knocked over a tray."
"Shall we send a porter to—"
"No!" Macey snapped. "I want to be alone, or is that too hard to understand?"
I heard retreating footsteps.
Macey dropped to the bench across from us while Zach and I tried to right ourselves.
"Hi, Zach," she said, her right leg swinging as she sat with it crossed over her left.
"Hey, Macey," he said, as if he fell out of ceilings and into the private chambers of the most highly protected girl in the country every day. "Sorry to drop in," he said with a look that told me he thought he was entirely too clever, "but Cammie just had to be alone with me. You know how she gets."
I smacked his arm.
He flinched. "You know, you're going to hurt me one of these days, and then you're going to feel really bad about it."
"Yeah," I started, "well, maybe if you would be honest with me for one—"
"Um, just so you know," Macey said, cutting me off as she leaned back, enjoying the show, "Abby will be back in approximately two minutes, so you lovebirds might want to make this quick."
I totally expected the boy in front of me to recoil at the word "lovebirds." But he didn't. Instead he grabbed the bag he'd been carrying and turned to Macey. "Thanks." He placed his knee on the bench and leaned toward the dark window, staring into the black as he said, "This is my stop anyway."
Well, from what I could tell, the train wasn't stopping. It wasn't even slowing down.
"Hey, McHenry, you mind?" He gestured to the door then stepped back as Macey opened it and checked the aisle.
"Oh, officer," she called to the sentry stationed in the hall outside. "Can I see your gun?"
As the man turned his back on us, Zach dashed out into the hall and to the door at the end of the car. I started to follow, but he stopped suddenly and turned to me. "Hey, Gallagher Girl," he said, looking at me more deeply than he ever had, "promise me something."
The train was faster now. Night streamed through the windows. And Zach stepped even closer.
"Be"—he reached up and gently touched the place where my bruise had been as if it were still fresh and swollen—"careful."
And then Zach stepped to the end of the car and slid open the door. The noise was overpowering for an instant. We were going over a great ravine, nothingness streaming on both sides as Zach spread his arms out wide. He looked back at me for one fleeting second.