The next day, we're released a few beats after 1200. Dean takes me back to his pod where I sit on the same spot on the floor I used to inhabit in our childhood. He shuts the curtains of his own private pod section. Being the son of the greenhouse genius has its perks.

He peers around to ensure we're completely alone and unveils the trunk from its hiding place. He snaps the lock and flips open the lid to reveal nearly a hundred books in various degrees of decay.

I say decay, but Dean calls it love.

He runs a long finger over one title on the top of the organized pile. He grabs it. There's a curious picture of a man with a body made of gears on the front.

"Brave New World," I read aloud. "Is it any good?"

"It's my favorite. Out of all of these books, this one has meant the most to me."

"What's it about?"

"It's about finding out who you are while ignoring the society around you."

"Sounds kind of stupid."

"You should read it." He hands it to me.

"I'm going to lose it." I try to push it back to him.

"Sure, you might, but I bet you won't." He releases it to my grasp. "This means a lot to me. When we see each other again in five years, you're going to have read it, and you're going to give it back."

"Is there going to be a quiz, Professor Freyer?" I mimic my best young, bored, antagonistic schoolgirl voice from GenEd.

If his furtive grin is any indication, he remembers that voice well.

Dean closes the trunk, pushes it to the corner near where I'm sitting, and pulls me from the floor. He kisses me with the light brush of an undulating breeze.

"I could do that forever," he states.

"Maybe you will," I retort in saccharine sweetness. "If you outlive the six thousand years it might take me to land on NOHA when ARC10's navigation system breaks down. But you'll get bored without me. I do have your favorite book."

"I told you. I'll wait."

I open the book and flip through the pages. "Are there any steamy bits in here? Anything I can use to occupy myself on those long, cold nights alone in my rusty space-bucket without you?"

"Not really. But here, let me give you something to spark your imagination. You have one of those, right?" He kisses me again.

I laugh into his teeth. He silences me by pulling me against his body, ambushing my lips with brutal longing. My glee dissolves into ravenous need as the kiss deepens.

I'll wait, Dean. From this moment forward. I'll wait.

Our playful battle touches the corners of his room. We collide with his desk, with his dresser, and with his shelf of training gear, spilling the contents around us and making his room a minefield. We trip into his cot where I straddle his waist and grin from above. I sink into him.

We ride out our affair out with purloined affection. He captures my breast in his large hand. I ensnare his lip between my teeth. In the back of my mind, I listen for the doors to woosh open and for red rods to invade, serving me my retribution. It's what I deserve.

The thought disappears when Dean grabs my hips and topples over, flipping me on my back. He looms above, beaming.

We fight, wrestling for dominance until we slide to the floor and our entanglement becomes so complex, we forget which limb belongs to whom. We collapse together, having spent all our breath panting over each other's skin.

Dean pulls the blanket from his cot. I gather his warmth and hold it inside me.

He squeezes my body closer to his, kissing the top of my head. I rest in the space between his shoulder and neck.

"Are you going to do that stupid thing where you tell me we can't do this again?" I ask, smoothing the blanket on our chests.

"No. I don't want to say it out loud."

"But it's true?"

"Probably."

I close my eyes and press myself deeper into him. "I was worried they'd find us and drag you away."

"I won't let them hurt you."

"I'm not afraid of them."

He wraps his arms tighter around my naked shoulders. "Yeah. I know. That's what I'm always worried about."