The Selection (The Selection #1)

The Selection (The Selection #1) Page 42

I bowed my head. It was sweet of her to think so highly of me. I felt a bit uncomfortable when people talked about me that way, though… May, Kenna, my maids … it was hard to believe how many people thought I’d be a good princess. Was I the only one who saw how flawed I was? I was unrefined. I didn’t have it in me to be bossy or overly organized. I was selfish and had a horrible temper, and I didn’t like being in front of people. And I wasn’t brave. You had to be brave to take this job. And that’s what this was. Not just a marriage, but a position.

“I feel that way about a lot of the girls,” she confessed. “Like everyone has some quality that I don’t that would make them better than me.”

“That’s the thing, Marlee. You could probably find something special about everyone in this room. But who knows exactly what Maxon is looking for?”

She shook her head.

“So let’s not worry about that. You can tell me anything you want to. I’ll keep your secrets if you keep mine. I’ll pull for you, and if you want to, you can pull for me. It’s nice to have friends here.”

She smiled, then looked around the room, checking to make sure no one could hear us.

“Maxon and I had our date,” she whispered.

“Yeah?” I asked. I knew I seemed overly eager, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to know if he’d managed to be any less stiff around her. And I wanted to know if he liked her.

“He sent a letter to my maids and asked if he could see me on Thursday.” I smiled as Marlee spoke and thought of how the day before he’d done that, Maxon and I had decided to eliminate those formalities. “I sent one back saying yes, of course, like I’d ever turn him down! He came to get me, and we walked around the palace. We got to talking about movies, and it turns out we like a bunch of the same ones. So we went downstairs to the basement. Have you seen the movie theater down there?”

“No.” I’d never actually been in a movie theater, and I couldn’t wait for her to describe it.

“Oh, it’s perfect! The seats are wide and they recline and you can even pop some popcorn—they have a popper. Maxon stood there and made a batch just for us! It was so cute, America. He measured the oil wrong and the first batch burned. He had to call someone to come and clean it up and try again.”

I rolled my eyes. Smooth, Maxon, real smooth. At least Marlee seemed to think it was endearing.

“So we watched the movie, and when we got to the romantic part at the end, he held my hand! I thought I’d faint. I mean, I’d taken his arm when we walked, but that’s just what you’re supposed to do. Here he was taking my hand....” She sighed and fell back into her chair.

I giggled out loud. She looked completely smitten. Yes, yes, yes!

“I can’t wait for him to visit me again. He’s just so handsome, don’t you think?” she asked.

I paused. “Yeah, he’s cute.”

“Come on, America! You have to have noticed those eyes and his voice....”

“Except when he laughs!” Just remembering Maxon’s laugh had me grinning. It was cute but awkward. He pushed his breaths out, and then made a jagged noise when he inhaled, almost like another laugh in itself.

“Yes, okay, he does have a funny laugh, but it’s cute.”

“Sure, if you like the lovable sound of an asthma attack in your ear every time you tell a joke.”

Marlee lost it and doubled over in laughter.

“All right, all right,” she said, coming up for air. “You have to think there’s something attractive about him.”

I opened my mouth and shut it two or three times. I was tempted to take another jab at Maxon, but I didn’t want Marlee to see him in a negative light. So I thought about it.

What was attractive about Maxon?

“Well, when he lets his guard down, he’s okay. Like when he just talks without checking his words or you catch him just looking at something like … like he’s really looking for the beauty in it.”

Marlee smiled, and I knew she’d seen that in him, too.

“And I like that he seems genuinely involved when he’s there, you know? Like even though he’s got a country to run and a thousand things to do, it’s like he forgets it all when he’s with you. He just dedicates himself to what’s right in front of him. I like that.

“And … well, don’t tell anyone this, but his arms. I like his arms.”

I blushed at the end. Stupid … why hadn’t I just stuck to the general good things about his personality? Luckily, Marlee was happy to pick up the conversation.

“Yes! You can really feel them under those thick suits, can’t you? He must be incredibly strong,” Marlee gushed.

“I wonder why. I mean, what’s the point of him being that strong? He does deskwork. It’s weird.”

“Maybe he likes to flex in front of the mirror,” Marlee said, making a face and flexing her own tiny arms.

“Ha, ha! I bet that’s it. I dare you to ask him!”

“No way!”

It sounded like Marlee had had a great time. I wondered why Maxon seemed so reluctant to mention that last night. Based on his reaction, it seemed like they hadn’t been together at all. Maybe he was shy?

I looked around the room and saw that more than half the girls seemed tense or unhappy. Janelle, Emmica, and Zoe were listening intently to something Kriss was saying. Kriss was smiling and animated, but Janelle’s face was tight with worry, and Zoe was biting her nails. Emmica was absently kneading a spot just below her ear, as if she was in pain. Beside them the mismatched pair of Celeste and Anna sat having another intense discussion. True to her usual form, Celeste looked incredibly smug as she spoke. Marlee noted my staring and clarified what was happening.

“The grumpy ones are the girls he hasn’t been out with yet. He told me I was his second date on Thursday alone. He’s trying to spend time with everyone.”

“Really? You think that’s it?”

“Yeah. I mean, look at you and me. We’re fine, and it’s because he’s seen us both one-on-one. We know he liked us enough to see us and not kick us out right afterward. It’s getting around who he’s spent time with and who he hasn’t. They’re worried he’s waiting on them because he isn’t interested, and that once he does see them, he’ll just let them go.”

Why hadn’t he told me any of this? Weren’t we friends? A friend would talk about this. He’d seen at least a dozen girls based on their smiles. We’d spent the better part of the evening together last night, and all he did was make me cry. What kind of friend held those kinds of secrets while making me spill all my own?