Designer Genes - The Boyfriend Cut (2 page)

I opened the front door and paused. "So we're clear? We look at the pod then reseal it. Dad never knows and you two take this secret to your graves."

Upstairs in my bedroom, Alex sprawled across my bed, head propped on a pillow against the footboard. Brittany perched on the edge of the desk, close to the computer. I passed them each a candy straw from my junk food stash and folded one knee on the chair, keeping a foot on the floor. Half of me grounded, the other half uncertain and frightened. I inserted the pod, no longer feeling a breath exit my lungs or a heartbeat in my chest.

A bead of moisture prickled my upper lip. Dad would have a meltdown of epic proportion if he knew what we were doing. At this moment though, I only cared about Candidate 2255—my supposed assigned "link." I rolled the cinnamon candy stick between my lips and shoved the image of my father's enraged face to the back of my mind.

A tall, well-built boy walked into view and perched on a stool against a white screen.

"Oh. My. God," Alex whispered.

Brit's chin dropped and she braced her arm on the desktop to lean closer. I slumped onto the chair, mouth bone dry, the candy straw stuck to my tongue.

"Hi."

The tone of the voice on the video feed sounded gentle, kind. The single word—a friendly greeting, felt intimate, and an unexpected blush tingled across my cheeks.

"I'm Candidate 2255."

A shiny bronze curtain of waves followed his jaw line and hid his face when he lowered his head. He scraped at the corner of a fingernail before smoothing his hands down his thighs. Shifting a hip on the stool, he flipped his head, sending his wayward locks swinging neatly back in place. His mouth pinched, a deep breath drawn and held as if weighing a decision.

"I know it's against protocol, but I hate being referred to as a number. My name is Jordan Mason and…I'm really nervous."

Mesmerized, I watched him push the sleeves of his light blue sweater to just below his elbow as if the simple gesture was the most incredible thing I'd ever witnessed. The corner of his bottom lip tucked into his top teeth for a second before slowly slipping back into a heart-shaped mouth. A
kissable
mouth. When his fingers slid through his thick hair, a nervous flutter wiggled in my stomach. I pulled my legs tight to my chest and dangled my toes off the edge of the chair.

"Okay—" he continued on a rush of air, "—about me. I attend Cornell University. I'm in the second year of their accelerated medical program." He rubbed the back of his neck and a sheepish grin scrunched his mouth. "I, uh, graduated high school early."

An immediate grimace twisted my face and I dropped my gaze to the pink bracelet adorning my wrist.
Four diamonds and a whopping seventeen years old.
My unimpressive portfolio didn't even include a high school diploma yet.

A light chuckle rumbled over the speaker and the voice, smooth as warm caramel, continued. "Wow, I sound pretentious. Something I hate, by the way. So what do I like? That's easy. For one, I love animals. Dogs, especially. They're happy if you simply scratch behind their ears."

I snapped to attention. On my twelfth birthday, a robin hit the living room window, breaking a wing. Dad and I nursed the bird until it took flight one morning. Ever since, I wanted to follow in his footsteps and become a veterinarian.

Could I possibly be assigned to someone who'd allow
my
dream to come true?

A slight curve pulled Jordan Mason's mouth and dimples bracketed the corners. "Next would be water, whether sailing, encased inside a huge wave, or sitting nearby on a beach, I love it." His eyes twinkled, his expression animated as he wandered in his thoughts. "Surfing is one of my passions. In fact, I'm a fan of the old-fashioned long board—had one custom made. It catches a wave perfect every time."

Hmm. Water sports. An embarrassing memory flickered. I tried surfing a couple of times with my brother and his friends when we lived in California, but rather than "catch a wave," I spent most of the time under one.

Jordan laughed, the sound wrapping and holding me in a dizzying vice. His eyes glittered with excitement. "Cars are another obsession. I love them fast and flashy. My Porsche,
Sweet Sally,
is my best friend. She's taken me on lots of road trips. I know, not 'environmentally acceptable,'" he air-quoted. "I love the open road almost as much as I love flying. Another favorite hobby. I'm a licensed pilot—personal aircraft and helicopters."

Alex sneered. "Of course you are."

Brit reached over and smacked the top of her head.

"SHHH!" I hissed.

This time, two hands scrubbed roughly over his scalp and another sigh ruffled his mouth. A weird feeling rushed through me like hot and cold water running side-by-side. I pushed my fists into my eye sockets to stop watching.

"There I go again, bragging. Sorry," he said, the lilt unnerving. "What I really mean to say, is I love doing anything that makes me feel free
.
"

Freedom
. Not a lot of that in The Program and I sensed a connection to Jordan Mason right then. Like me, he always fidgeted with his bracelet. His body language, the harsh angles his expression suddenly took, revealed being a candidate and required to jump whenever the government asked, might be something he didn't like either.

I stared as he fingered the blue band around his arm, unaware I touched my own. When the light above sparked the diamonds on his bracelet, I gasped.
Five
diamonds
.
Crap! The cinnamon stick dropped off my lip to the floor.

At age thirteen, the government issued colored bands representing your life status. Outside of The Program, yellow, orange, and green were the three major colors. If my dad had his way, yellow would still surround my wrist, but the pink ring I wore served as a constant reminder he'd lost…and so had I.

The special blue and pink bands issued to candidates had diamonds representing status, and five diamonds symbolized the highest—the elite. Four diamonds sparkled on my wrist, but the fifth one on Mr. Mason's band made him the equivalent of royalty in The Program. He out ranked me.

"Stop!"

The computer paused at my voice command. I shoved away from the desk and paced, twisting my hair tight enough to break it off at the roots. "There's been a mistake. His band has five diamonds, not four!"

Alex's forehead twisted. "I don't get it. That's a good thing…isn't it?"

Brittany, also a candidate, her pink band trimmed with four diamonds like mine, understood immediately. "Not really. It means he can claim Marli."

Alex kneeled in the center of the bed, waving her candy straw like a magic wand. "So? The guy's hot."

"It's not that simple. If he claims me, I don't have a say in my own future."

She pointed at the handsome face frozen mid-sentence on the screen. "Hell of a 'future.' What's your problem? Someone who's smart, obviously rich, and beyond sexy, wants you
.
"

"Exactly. Why me? His assignee should be a politician's daughter, or a wealthy heiress. Not some ordinary teenage girl from Ohio. I'm-I'm—" I leaned on my knees, breathed deep to get my lips to stop tingling. "—scared."

I backed against the wall, pressed a hand to my squirming stomach. The computer beeped, possibly alerting someone on the other side of the cyber-curtain. Before Jordan Mason's video request could open, I had to sign into The Program's database using my candidate identification number, allowing the government access to
my
computer.

Brit's brow rose when it chimed again. "Marli, do something."

"Go!"

"One last thing," Jordan said gently, "I know this whole setup is about an assigned mate
,
but you should know honesty is important to me. I need a girl in my life who's real. Someone sincere, compassionate, and funny. A sense of humor is important, if we're going to survive this."

Survive this?

"Stop!"

Alex threw her hands in the air. "Now what?"

I parked on the window seat and stared at the stilled close-up image. I knotted my T-shirt in my fist and tears choked my voice. "I can't do this. I'm only seventeen. What about college? A career?"

Alex's fell back on the bed, her head hanging off the side. Her wide eyes looked at me upside down. "Davis, you're messed up." She pointed at the computer. "Look at him!"

I had no argument. Jordan Mason could be the finest example of the male species ever, and he seemed sincere—trustworthy. The computer started the countdown beep. I checked the screen. The camera shot had closed in on Jordan's face and my heart pushed my ribs.

"Alex, you don't understand."

She rolled over and crossed her legs behind her. "I understand that you get to have sex with that hunk."

Suddenly, my brain felt like it might explode. "Sex?"

"Duh? Do the math, Marli. 'Perfect boy plus perfect girl equals perfect baby.' That's what your stupid Program wants, isn't it? Outside a petri dish, there's only one way that's happening."

I stared at my bed as if seeing it for the first time. The mattress you laid on, the pillows your head sank into, the sheets you'd slip between
naked.
The computer chimed another warning. I glanced at the monitor. His eyes watched intently as if reading my thoughts. I swear I imagined his mouth twitch.

Brittany dropped beside me and pulled my fingers away from my mouth. "Quit biting your thumb." I traded thumb for lip. "And your bottom lip."

"I can't help it. I'm freaked out." I stared into the black eyes mirroring my fear. "Brit, I don't even know him."

She smoothed my hair. "You know The Program doesn't care about the emotional stuff. It's all about fulfilling a contract."

"While doing
IT
with
that
guy!" Alex razzed.

She lost her virginity to the backseat cushions of her boyfriend's car on her sixteenth birthday, and loved sharing her ideas on how Brittany and I could release our pent-up hormones.

"Shut up, Alex," I scolded, harsher than intended. Her cocky grin faded and she moved off the bed.

"Whatever. I'm just saying you could do worse. I'm going down to the kitchen. This sanctimonious crap has bored me to starvation."

The computer dinged a final warning. I faced a crossroads and as much as I wanted my friends here at the beginning, right now I wanted to be alone.

"Brit, do you mind going after her? I need to think."

"Don't do something stupid. Remember this is your freedom we're talking about. Don't let some dreamy-looking boy take it away. You're more than someone's genetic link
.
"

As soon as the door clicked shut, I rushed to the computer. "Go," I softly commanded, noticing the skipped beat in my chest. I settled my chin on crossed arms, close to the electronic cage holding my destiny.

But I'm
his
link.

Jordan Mason's thick lashes swept against pinked cheeks and a ghost of a smile parted his lips. When his eyes lifted, his expression took on a boyish innocence. His voice dropped, soft and timid.

"Hope you accept my request."

At that instant, nothing else mattered. Something about him…that look, tugged my heart strings. A shiver slipped beneath my skin sending thousands of electrified pulses rushing through me. My stomach floated with excitement, my palms sweaty, and permanent teeth marks welted my bottom lip.

My finger hovered over the keyboard as if sensing the turmoil churning within me. For some reason I pretended it could never happen—me, "chosen." I held onto the fantasy I'd live life unscathed…unnoticed…normal
.

But now? Candidate 2255, the heartthrob on my screen, wanted
me
. The thought petrified me, yet for some inexplicable reason, I felt drawn to him. I pressed "Accept" and released the breath I held captive. Jordan Mason disappeared, replaced by a confirmation number blinking in blinding red and some form with blank spaces requiring information.

A shimmer of stars twinkled behind my tightly squeezed eyelids.
Did I really just surrender my destiny to a boy in designer jeans?
The voice of reason deep in my brain fell silent—a loud confirmation I had.

Numb, I stumbled down the stairs, slithered along the wall and grasped the handles on the refrigerator as if blind. Brittany's eyes filled her face. My friends knew how to read me and the answer, undoubtedly, radiated on my face. However, I couldn't be certain if my expression showed joy or terror.

Brit's brows knotted. "What did you do?"

"I accepted the interview."

Alex punched the air with fists and pranced around the kitchen singing the praises of my moral demise."Wahoo!" You're going to have sex with the hot guy!"

Brittany dipped her tea bag with so much force the tea sloshed over the rim of her cup. "Rick is going to kill you."

I tossed her a rag. "Probably." A smile pulled my mouth. "What's scarier? I don't care."

Or so I thought, until the next morning.

2

THE INTERVIEW