Free The Vault of Dreamers by Caragh M. O'brien Page A

take it. I clenched my fists and leaned into him a little bit
     more.
    I didn’t know his mouth would be warm in the coolness of the rain. I didn’t know I
     would shift myself a little nearer to feel the right pressure, or that when I did,
     a tiny jolt inside me would erase the rest of the world. I didn’t think to unclench
     my fists. He didn’t do more than touch his lips to mine for a slow moment, but when
     he finally backed up a little and I could breathe again, I hardly remembered how.
    With his one good eye, Linus was watching me closely. I felt hopelessly wet and self-conscious
     in my clinging shirt.
    “I think this had better be our secret,” he said just over the noise of the rain.
    “What?” I asked.
    He curled a hand to his mouth and leaned close to my ear. “I mean, that this matters,”
     he said.
    I searched his expression, and though he couldn’t have come up with a more perfect
     thing to say, it riddled me with guilt. Our kiss had been completely contrived. A
     zillion Forge Show viewers had just seen it, and even now the last toll from the clock tower bonged
     through the rush of the rain. No matter how much I’d liked kissing him in the moment,
     it was all fake, right?
    Linus was frowning. “Was that your first kiss?” he asked.
    “You could tell.”
    His smile was genuinely warm. “Yes.”
    “It wasn’t yours, I take it,” I said.
    He laughed. “No. But it was my first in a very long time. It was my first with you.”
    I withdrew half a step, letting the rain fall between us. “And probably last,” I said.
     “It’s past five o’clock.”
    “Let’s go see if you’re cut,” he said. “They’ll have the news in the kitchen.”
    We turned together to dodge across the puddles, and another flash of lightning burst
     around us as we hurried up the steps to the loading dock. Linus held open the kitchen
     door for me and I stepped inside, hunched and dripping.
    Half a dozen kitchen workers turned to face us and let out a rousing cheer. The frizzy-haired
     cook pointed to a TV screen on the wall.
    “You made it!” she said to me. “Blip rank fifty. You’re in! Congratulations!”
    I let out a squeak of joy and instinctively grabbed Linus’s arm.
    Linus grinned and took back his hat. “Nice,” he said.
    At the front of the dining hall, laughing, jubilant students were streaming in from
     the quad. Cake and punch had been set out for the celebration. A young man handed
     me and Linus a couple of towels to sling around our shoulders, and Chef Ted gave me
     a nod.
    “Go on out and join the other winners,” he said. “You’ve earned it.”
    I glanced back at Linus, who was still smiling. In his wet shirt and eye patch, he
     looked like a pirate just in from a storm.
    “Great job, Sinclair,” he said. “I’m happy for you.”
    “Come with me,” I said.
    “No,” he said. “I’m good.”
    “I owe you,” I said.
    “Yes,” he said. “You do. Go on.”
    I gave a wave to the rest of the kitchen staff and headed through the doorway to meet
     up with the other students. Other winners from the auditorium were streaming in, laughing
     as if they couldn’t contain their delight. Teachers and older students filed in, too,
     until the place was packed and the windows steamed over.
    Janice nearly attacked me. “You made it!” she said, and gripped me in a hug. “It was
     so exciting! I nearly died! Who is that hot, hot guy from the kitchen? Is he here?
     When did you meet him?” She rose on tiptoe, looking past my shoulder toward the kitchen.
    I peeked back to where Linus was ruffling his hair madly in the towel.
    “His name’s Linus,” I said, blushing. “I met him this morning. Quit staring.”
    “Way go to, Rosie. I mean, really.” Janice dropped her voice. “Way to pull it out
     of the bag.”
    “It wasn’t exactly a premeditated plan,” I said.
    “Whatever. It worked, right?” Janice said. “Burnham made it, too. And Paige. And Henrik.
     Holy crap. They