Newt

The Glade grew quiet in the evenings. Leah sat by the fire and looked at Newt. She remembered how she'd grabbed his hand on that first day. "Hold on." Ever since then, she'd wanted to confess, but she was afraid of ruining their friendship.

Teresa, the second girl in the Glade, showed up. A party was thrown in her honor. Gally served the tincture.

• It's falling faster than a labyrinth, and for you, Leah, a little drop, otherwise you'll be kissing trees again.

Last time she did just that. She kissed the oak tree when she got drunk.

Leah disobeyed and drank too much. The liquor didn't cloud her mind, but it did take her mind off things. She danced, laughed, tripped over a log, and fell backward. Newt ran over and helped her up.

"Alive?" he breathed out.

Leah raised her head. Everything inside her screamed, "Say thank you. Smile. Move away. Pretend nothing happened. Just like you always did."

But her mouth opened on its own.

• I love you.

Newt chuckled.

• Good joke..

She stood on her tiptoes; he was half a head taller than her, and pressed her lips to his. He tensed for a second, then tightened his grip on her waist.

She pulled away. He looked at her, scratching the bridge of his nose.

"Tomorrow. Let's talk sober," he said quietly, and added, leaning over, "About your love... too."

He left. Leah stood there with her heart ablaze and, for the first time, unafraid. Tomorrow she would say it again.