Free Naturals by Tiffany Truitt

that room with James. And for just a second more, I could see his face, so close to mine. I licked my lips, savoring the moment.
    “We have to keep moving,” Henry said, holding his hand out toward me and shattering my recollection. “Here, I’ll help you. The terrain gets a bit rocky ahead.”
    I stared at his hand, and slowly my eyes made their way up his body. Lean. Strong. He never looked like the other compliant boys of the compound. He never knew how to be at rest. My eyes briefly fell on his lips, and I felt my own go dry. I swallowed.
    I missed being kissed.
    The council had spent years convincing my people that women were to blame for our eventual extinction. We had weakened our men through our lust, infected them with it like some disease that had no cure. It was in our nature to be ruled by our emotions and bodies.
    For so long, I tried to deny that I felt any stirring of desire. I saw it as the weakness the council proclaimed it to be. But I couldn’t stop the way desire consumed me when I was with James. He awakened it in me, and I wasn’t sure I could ever go back to the way I was before.
    I didn’t want to go back.
    I missed being kissed. And I was shamed by it.
    The council wasn’t entirely wrong when they proclaimed that these feelings were a bit dangerous.
    Henry pushed his hand closer to me. “Let’s go. The sooner we’re out of the woods, the better I’ll feel.”
    I hesitantly grabbed onto his hand. He gave mine a quick squeeze before leading me toward where the rest of our crew waited, having graciously given me some time alone.

     
    That night, Henry slept closer to me than he had ever slept before, and I didn’t protest. Our journey to the Isolationist camp had been strenuous. While I welcomed memories of James, when they were gone, replaced by the stress of traveling through the dangerous woods, all I felt was alone.
    I missed him so much.
    I wasn’t foolish enough to convince myself that Henry was James, but it still felt good to have someone near. I had gone so much of my life shutting off any part of me that desired to feel anything, and I never wanted to go back to that.
    Then there was the obvious—I would never see James again.
    I liked Henry. I missed our friendship. We were friends, and it didn’t seem wrong to sleep close to a friend. So when I went to bed that night, I tried to ignore the guilt that still lived within me.
    I’m not sure what woke me in the middle of the night, but when I opened my eyes, it was to find Henry no longer just sleeping close to me—he was right next to me. He lay turned on his side, and I could feel his breath tickling my neck. His pinkie finger lightly grazed mine. Without warning, my whole body erupted in a million little goose bumps.
    A traitorous sigh escaped my lips. Henry, somehow sensing my reaction, shifted in his sleep. He curved his body even closer to mine and his arm snaked around my waist. I could feel the weight of it through my much-too-thin clothes.
    It wasn’t an entirely unpleasant feeling. In fact, it felt good.
    I could have moved. I should have moved. But Henry was asleep; he wouldn’t be aware of this moment in the morning. It would carry no meaning for him—it would only hurt me. Except it didn’t hurt. For the first time in days, I felt at peace. So I closed my eyes and enjoyed it.
    The problem with allowing myself to feel was that I always felt too much, and without Emma, I didn’t know who to talk to about it all.
    I only hoped we would reach our destination soon.

Chapter 7
     
    I sucked on the end of my sleeve, hoping to get it as wet as possible. I knew no matter how hard I scrubbed my face, it wouldn’t come clean.
    “Stop that,” said Henry, moving my hand from my face. “You aren’t going to get everything off, and now it looks like you slobbered all over your arm.”
    “Any idea what’s taking so long?” Henry asked Eric. McNair had informed us that he would be traveling ahead to talk with the