My hip still burns where Malcolm's hand was.
Justine: Look at her walk. Somebody's had a long night already.
The women at her table laugh into their glasses. I don't turn around.
The pump room is down three steps behind the deep end.
It smells like chlorine and wet cement. Tonight it's the only place nobody wants to be.
The door opens behind me.
Abel: You left the donor table. Malcolm noticed.
Abel. Tweed, no tie. His eyes go straight to my hands, and my hands are shaking.
I nudge my bag behind the filter housing with my foot, and the zip gives.
Papers fan out across the wet floor.
He's faster than me. He's always faster than me.
Abel: Kira.
He says my name like a door closing.
Abel: That's my signature on this. Or it's meant to be.
Abel: This is a fucking fake.
Kira: Give it back.
Abel: Say it again. Look at me and say it again.
Abel: You forged my name for my own course. That's not desperate. That's insulting.
My face is on fire. My throat is shut so tight I could choke on it.
Kira: Please. Don't tell Malcolm.
Abel: Anything. You're already saying anything, and I haven't asked for anything yet.
Abel: Who printed it?
Kira: A place in town. I paid cash.
Abel: Christ.
He folds the paper once, slow. He puts it inside his jacket.
Abel: Here's how this works now.
Abel: You report to me. Every week. Where you go, who you're with, what you've told anyone.
Kira: Report to you? Like a child?
Abel: Like a student on probation. Say yes, sir, and we both go back to the party.
Kira: And if I don't?
Abel: Then Malcolm gets a call tonight, and the trust hears its apprentice is a liar.
My eyes sting. I hate that they sting.
Kira: Yes. I'll report to you.
Abel: That was too easy. You're not going to fight me?
Kira: Would it work?
He looks at my mouth for one long second.
Then his mouth is on mine.
It's not soft. It's hard and closed and still angry.
My hands grab his shirt and hold on.
I kiss him back. I don't decide to. My body just does it.
His fingers tighten on my neck, and I make a sound into his mouth.
Abel: Don't do that again.
Kira: You kissed me.
Abel: Don't remind me.
Abel: Monday. My office. Bring the real paperwork.
The door shuts behind him. The pumps hum like nothing happened.
My mouth is still warm. My hands are shaking for a brand new reason.
He owns a piece of me now, and he didn't even have to pay for it.
I pick up my tray. I fix my face.
Justine: There she is. Took you long enough, apprentice.
Across the pool, Abel is watching me over his glass.
His hand sits flat on his jacket, right where my paper is.
Monday is coming. So is Malcolm.