Page 27 of The Last Love Story

Before I know it, I’m running. I can’t lose sight of him, not this time.

He goes over the wall, and I jump the fence and sprint across the yard, following closely, making sure to steer clear of the ancient pool that is now caked with algae and God knows what else.

I jump that fence, too, and manage to catch sight of Hux just before he turns down a narrow alley behind another row of houses to the south.

Another thought bubbles to the front of my brain, hand in hand with the memory of his breath on my face and the feel of his nose bumping against mine: Hux turns eighteen in two months. Maybe thenhecan join Lyceum. Maybe Banks joined Lyceum too. Maybe there’s hope for us all. We’ll spend nights writing to inspire people to vote, and we’ll race thenight to deliver hope before the sun rises, side by side. Maybe we can’t be friends. But we don’t have to be enemies. We can go back to something else, something like allies.

Which is why I’m chasing him now, as the first fingers of dawn tickle the sickly sky.

He’sfast.Within minutes, we’re at the end of the windy road that leads up to the houses, which spills out into a three-way intersection. Hux doesn’t even hesitate as he crosses the street, slowing his pace down just a little to look more nonchalant. He tucks his hands in his pockets and saunters like he has all the time in the world.

I linger across the street, holding a stitch in my side. Why couldn’t he havesaunteredall the way here?

Just opposite where I’m standing, there’s the shell of a burned-out gas station. And looming above it are the raised, bridge-like tracks of the concrete overpass, its sharp angle the last of the roadway before the hovercars cut into the sky above downtown Post Angeles. Fluorescent lights are mounted along the bottom, casting the whole area in a weird bluish-white glow.

Hux looks both ways when he gets to the gas station—but not before crossing the street; how is this boy still alive—and then continues on. Realization dawns, a pit in my stomach.

“Huxley Finn, no fucking way,” I gasp.

But with one leap, he’s up on the leg of the overpass, managing to grab the bottom of a maintenance ladder with one hand. He yanks it down, tuns his face up toward thebridge above him, and then climbs. Overhead, the superhighway whizzes with light and sound, rush hour coming with the day. Hovercars rocket into the sky, engines roaring with the extra effort.

I press my lips together, looking over my shoulder. I know it’s now or never—if I’m going to follow him, I have to move.

After checking both ways—because I, unlike some people, have survival instincts—I sprint across the intersection, muttering insults under my breath the whole time.

By the time I reach the ladder, I’ve run out of curse words. I crane my neck upward. It’s so much higher than it looks from across the street. I make myself stare forward as I climb, wincing once I leave the blue light and enter the shadowed side. Up here, hovercars blow my hair back, the scent of exhaust managing to slip past my mask. At the top, the ladder bends, ending in two handles and one step that leads directly to the roadway. A roadway that cuts off abruptly in a few yards, disappearing into air. Along the seam of that drop-off, I barely catch Hux’s figure.

I could yell after him. What would I say? Tell him to stop, tell him not to—

But he’s running toward the edge.

“Huxley!” His name rips out of me in surprise, because I blink and he’s gone, the hovercars around him taking off into the sky. The roar of engines steals my cry, but I scan the street frantically until I spot him, in the sky, clinging to aself-driving delivery hovercar, positioned expertly between the rear and side cameras. They zoom off toward downtown, a blur of fiberglass and the boy I just kissed.

I don’t have a second to stop and think this through. If I did, I’d probably decide against what I do next, which is take off in a sprint.

I speed up, sprinting as hard as I can toward the end of the road.

Ten feet.

Seven.

I have no idea how to time this. The automated hovercars whip around the corner, speeding up as they near the ramp. I have to run faster, something tells me. My lungs scream in protest as I fight like hell to close the gap—

Five feet.

Three. Two.

It’s now or never.

I jump. My arms pinwheel wildly, and I kick my feet. I land hard on the back bumper, letting out a very unladylike groan as my face hits the black matte finish.

I freeze, hoping that my landing wasn’t jarring enough to raise any red flags. This is a delivery vehicle, so there’s no one to hear me, but these have cameras and sensors, right?

I get my answer as the hovercar rockets on and up, leaving me scrambling to find my grip as we take off into the night sky.

Clinging painfully by my fingers to the seam of the fender, I pull myself up. A handful of cars ahead, Hux is perched on his ride, the wind lifting his hair as he holds on to a bar mounted on the side of the vehicle.

I peer around on mine, finding that same bar but keeping my body toward the back, just in case Hux decides to look over his shoulder.