As the other girls started leaving breakfast, I made eye contact with America and she seemed to get the message that I want her to stay.

Once the room is mostly empty, with the door closing behind my father, I make my way over to her and she meets me halfway. I lace my large, rough fingers with her small, smooth ones.

"I'd ask what you want to do today," I promise her. "But our options are pretty limited. No archery, no hunting, no riding, no anything outside."

Guilt presses down on me as she sighs.

"Not even if we took a slew of guards?" She tries.

"I'm sorry America," I say regretfully. "But what about a movie? We can watch something with spectacular scenery."

"It's not the same," She moans. But then offers me a sly smile and tugs me towards the door. "Come on. Lets go make the best of it."

"That's the spirit," I praise, thankful for her seemingly endless spirit.

She stopped suddenly on our way down to the theater.

"It's raining!" America gasps, releasing my arm and pressing her hand to the large window, an expressing I can't quite read. "It's so beautiful."

This makes me smile and I wrap an arm around her waist from behind. "Leave it to you to find beauty in something others would say ruins a day."

She stares out into the dark clouds longingly. "I wish I could touch it."

I sigh in defeat. "I know you do, but it's just not-"

I never finish my thought though, as an idea occurs to me.

Turning in search of a reason behind my sudden cut off, America frowns at me. Glancing up and down the halls, making sure we're alone, I grab America's hand and start towing her towards the stairs.

I can feel her smile on my back as we wind our way up the stairs. I lead her into one of the upstairs parlors, glancing around once more before steering us towards the wall next to the fireplace. I reach under the lip of the mantle for the hidden latch that I know is there.

Pushing open a hidden panel to a twisting staircase, I reach out to America, who is watching all of this in obvious shock and surprise. "Take my hand."

Obediently, she slips her fair skinned hand into mine and follows me up the stairs until we come to a door. I pull it open and we are immediately hit with the sound of pounding rain.

"The roof?" She asks in astonishment.

I nod. I know it's not what she had hoped, seeing as there are walls obstructing our view, but we're outside nonetheless.

But America doesn't seem to mind, taking a tiny step forward and reaching her hand out, letting the raindrops hit her soft skin.

I let out a little chuckle before pushing her out into the downpour.

I can hear her loud gasp over the rain and she is soaked in mere seconds. Whipping around she clasps her hands around my upper arm and tugs hard. Pretending to struggle against her, I grin, letting her force me out into the rain with her.

Pulling her over to one of the walls, I point out into the rain. "Look."

She stares in complete awe at the beautiful view in front of us and it briefly crosses my mind that one day, it may not look like this anymore.

"I don't want the rebels to take it," I tell her over the sound of the pounding rain. I realise how snotty that must've sounded and add, "I don't know how bad the death toll is, but I can tell that my father is keeping it a secret from me. He's afraid I'll call off the selection."

"Is there a way to find out the truth?"

I consider this for a second, knowing she deserves to know the truth without wanting to put too much stress on her.

"I feel like, if I could get in touch with August, he'd know. I could get a letter to him, but I'm afraid of putting too much in writing. And I don't know if I could get him into the palace."

She seems to think for a minute before responding. "What if we could get to him?"

This makes me laugh. It hadn't even crossed my mind, I doubt it would even be possible. How do you suggest we do that?"

She smiles up at me and shrugs. "'ll work on it."

I offer her an appreciative look. "It's nice to say things out loud. I'm always watching what I say. I feel like no one can hear me up here, I guess. Just you."

"Then go ahead and say anything," She offers.

I smirk. "Only if you will."

"Fine," She answers without reservation.

"Well," I start. "What do you want to know?"

She considers this for a minute, pushing the wet hair out of her face. "Did you really not know about the diaries?"

Slightly embarrassed, I shake my head. "No. But I'm up to speed now. Father made me read them all. If August had come two weeks ago, I would have thought he was lying about everything, but not anymore." I look down at her, catching her eyes with mine. "It's shocking, America. You only scratched the surface with what you read." I consider my next statement before saying, "I want to tell you about it, but I can't yet."

"I understand."

I already know my question for her and give her a look saying there's no getting out of answering it. "How did the girls find out about you taking off my shirt?"

She glances at the ground, seemingly ashamed. "We were watching the guards work out." Her face turns red as she continues, "I said you looked as good as any of them without your shirt. It slipped out."

I let my head fall back in a laugh at that. "I can't be mad about that."

Realizing it's her turn to question me, America smiles up at me. "Have you ever brought anyone else up here?"

Guilt spreads through me. Sadly, I say, "Olivia." Then, quickly add, "One time, and that's it."

Then, without thinking, I blurt, "I kissed Kriss." Refusing to look at her, I continue, "Recently. For the first time. It only seems right that you should know."

I risk a peek, to see her reaction, and am surprised to see her nodding.

"I hate dating you this way," she sighs, fidgeting with her wet clothes.

"I know," I say sadly. "It's just how it is."

"Doesn't make it fair," she pouts.

Laughing, I reason, "When has anything in our lives ever been fair?"

"I'm not supposed to tell you," she says suddenly, making me nervous. "And if you let on that you know, he'll get worse, I'm sure, but, your father's been saying things to me. He also took away the payments for my family. None of the other girls have them anymore, so I guess it looked bad anyway."

"I'm sorry," is my immediate reply. Looking out over the bright city, and away from America, a million scenarios of my father cornering America and questioning her run through my head. And then her family, the devastation she must have felt in hearing they would no longer be getting her income…

"I don't think there's a way to undo that one, America."

"You don't have to," she assures me. "I just wanted you to know it was happening. And I can handle it."

"You're too tough for him. He doesn't understand you," I try to console her, reaching down for her hand.

We both seem to realize that our little game has ended, upset with how down the mood has become, I look down at our intertwined hands. "Do you…." I take a deep breath. "Do you want to dance?"

To my relief, she nods. "But I'm awful."

"We'll go slow," I promise, pulling her close and placing a hand on her waist. She set her hand on mine, and used the other to lift the soaked fabric of her dress, to keep from tripping over it.

We were barely swaying as she rested her cheek on my chest. I place my chin on the top of her head and we spin to the patter of rain.

I tighten my grip around her and I feel her relax into me. Looking up at me, I feel her place one hand on my cheek, pulling me down for a kiss. I wrap both arms around her back, holding her to me as though my life depends on it.

Finally breaking the kiss, I look down at me. "You're so pretty when you're a mess."

She laughs, seeming nervous suddenly. "Thank you. For that and for not giving up," she clarifies.

I run my fingers over her cheek and nose to her chin, hoping to sooth her. "You're worth it," I promise her. "I don't think you get that. You're worth it to me." I offer her a smile, kissing the tip of her nose. "Let's go get dry and watch a movie."
She nods. "Sounds good."

I watch in amusement as she tries to wring the water out of her dress before giving up and letting me lead back down the staircase.

"I vote for comedy," she announces.

"I vote for action," I contrast.

"Well," She says, sending me a sly look. "You just said I was worth it so I think I'm going to win this one."

I let out a laugh. "Nicely done."

I push through the panel leading back to the parlor, but stop dead when I see who's standing there.

"I'm assuming this was your idea," my father addresses me.

Hoping to keep America out of trouble, I reply with a simple, "yes."

"Do you have any idea how much danger you put yourself in?" He demands.

"Father there were no rebels waiting on the roof," I counter pointlessly.

"One well aimed bullet is all it would take, Maxon," he insists. "You know we're stretched tight sending guards to watch the girls' homes," he says it as if it was his choice they would have no protection. "The dozens of these who've been sent have gone AWOL. We're vulnerable." Then, he looks past me and glares at America, who is peeking over my shoulder. I'm tempted to step in front of her. "And why is it that when anything happens these days, she's got her hands all over it?"

I don't say anything, knowing it's pointless.

"Get cleaned up," my father demands. "You have work to do."

Not wanting to give up my time with America, and certainly not wanting to go with my father, I start, "But, I-"

I don't get any farther though, as he cuts me off with a single glare, telling me I had better obey.

"Very well."

Taking my arm, my father starts dragging me away. I look over my shoulder, mouthing a sorry to America. She offers me a smile and then I'm around the corner.