17. Bambi
BAMBI
“Oomph!”
A chuckle rumbles deep in his chest, and I feel it before I hear it. “Good rising, little one. Are you alright?”
Lurching away from him like the contact burns is probably not the best reaction in the world, but what else am I supposed to do when I feel… movement where my front pressed against him.
Smooth move, Bambi.
Heat blooms across my face, and I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, offering him a clumsy greeting. “Erhm… good morning. Yes, I’m fine. Sorry about that.”
Smiling down at me, he shrugs my apology away. “There is no need to apologize. Would you like to have the fast-breaking meal with me?”
Bashful longing is written across his face, and I don’t have the heart to tell him no.
I’m hungry; it should still be morning, and it’s not like there’s that much room on this ship.
I also think I actually want to have breakfast with him.
It’s surprising, but I’m nothing if not honest with myself.
Bikar showed me there’s a whole lot more to him than I thought, and I’m hesitantly optimistic about getting to know him better.
I wonder what Heather’s going to say when she finds out I kissed him last night?
Bikar steps back out of the way, lifts his arm, and gestures for me to precede him down the hall. An awkward silence settles between us as we walk, and I rack my brain for something to say. He must be as uncertain as I am, because we start talking at the same time.
“Did you sleep well, little doe?”
“How’d you sleep?”
Both of us pause for a second before bursting into laughter, effectively breaking the ice between us.
Deciding to acknowledge the elephant in the room, I word-vomit all over him with a wince.
“Yeah, so I’m not exactly sure what to say or do.
I’ve never had a ‘morning after’ with a guy before, so I’m at a loss.
Not that this is a walk of shame situation, and not that there’s anything to be ashamed of.
Even if we had… gone all the way. Slut shaming isn’t a thing we do here.
Then I literally ran into you and you… uh… had a reaction…”
I’m not sure my face could be any redder, so I might as well go for broke and be as forthright as possible. Shrugging my shoulders, I try to play off how uncomfortable I am.
“I had a surprisingly good time with you last night. You showed me a side of yourself that I didn’t know existed. But that doesn’t mean I’m ready to have sex with you.”
Bikar’s eyes widen at my blunt honesty before a smug smirk forms on his lips.
“If you’re about to say something sexually suggestive, just don’t,” I bark out, beating him to the punch.
“I haven’t been awake long enough to listen to your bullshit, and we both know that’s roughly ninety percent of what comes out of your mouth. So, shut it.”
Twinkling gold eyes full of mirth peer down at me as he tries to smother his satisfied male chuckle.
“Whatever do you mean? I would never say anything of that nature. Especially when my mate has asked me so nicely.”
Taking an enormous step to the side, I gape at him. “I’m just gonna move on over here before the good Lord strikes you down for lying like a rug on the floor. I don’t wanna get hit in the crossfire.”
By this time, Bikar is roaring with laughter, and I have a small smile on my face. That’s exactly what everyone in the dining hall sees when we walk through the door, and the room falls eerily silent.
Since I followed Bikar through the threshold, I didn’t get to see what everyone’s face looked like at first, but the silence is deafening. Stepping around the broad mass of his body, my gaze bounces off several Ruks with knowing expressions on their faces, before settling on Heather.
Rolling my eyes, I ignore the satisfied grin she’s wearing— and what she’s silently telling me—as I wind through the tables. Bikar follows along behind me as I approach her, disregarding the other Ruks with a half-hearted wave or nod of greeting.
“Heather Feather, don’t start with me this morning. It’s early, and I haven’t even had my pretend coffee yet.” Sliding into the chair across from her, I ignore Heather’s snickering as Bikar settles into the seat beside me.
Does he really have to sit that close?
Surreptitiously, I try to scoot away from him so I have little breathing room—he’s so damned big it’s a bit overwhelming—but the chair is freaking heavy, and I look like I’m performing calisthenics instead of sneakily moving away.
Bikar peers at me curiously. “Is something amiss, little Starshine?”
Muttering a response, I resign myself to his imposing bulk being in my bubble. “No, Bikar. Nothing’s wrong.”
Maybe I actually like him sitting so close to me… not that I’m going to tell him that.
Yet.
My bestie is not being quiet, and I do my best to act as unaffected as possible, only partially succeeding until she starts ribbing me.
“Girl, you should see your face right now. There are tomatoes less red than you. Makes me wonder what you and the winged wanker were talking about in the hallway.”
Choking on spit is a horrible way to start the morning, but here I am—coughing, clearing my throat, and trying to breathe while Heather sits there, judging me.
Trying and failing to get the words burning a hole in my tongue out, I struggle through another coughing fit, tears welling in my eyes.
Bikar’s arms are partially extended as if he intends to help, but has absolutely no idea what to do, or if his touch would be permitted.
He looks terrified, and it’s enough that even Heather has a little sympathy for him. “Don’t worry, Winged Wanker. She just sucked some spit down the wrong pipe. She’ll be fine in a minute.”
Her utterance of Bikar’s new nickname sends me into another fit of choked laughter, and I watch him sit there helplessly through watering eyes. Eventually, I calm down enough to articulate. “Winged Wanker? Seriously, Heather? Where the hell do you come up with this stuff?”
Sassily flipping her long hair over one shoulder, she laughs at me while buffing her nails and examining them nonchalantly. “It’s just one of my many talents.”
Taking a deep breath in, I try to slow my breathing and racing heart. “Shoebuddy, with entertainment like this, who needs pretend coffee?”
Bikar’s attention wavers for a second with my comment, and I realize he’s researching something. Heather—not one slow on the uptake—notices his inattention as well, and looks over at me with a quirked eyebrow.
Answering her wordless question, I reply.
“From what I’ve been able to figure out, he’s part computer, and that data block thingie he went to all the trouble of getting contained everything about humanity on it.
And I do mean everything. When he gets that faraway look, he’s researching something I’ve said or looking for contextual clues. ”
Heather’s mouth drops open in shock for a moment before she snaps it closed, looking back and forth between Bikar and me with narrowed eyes. “You’re telling me this moron is actually smart?”
Snickering at her quip, I lean forward and conspiratorially whisper, “Heather Feather, he made me ice cream in the replicator last night.”
“He WHAT?” Shooting out of her chair, she steps around the table and pokes Bikar in the middle of his broad chest over and over until she gets his attention.
Jerking his head to the side, black vertical pupils flare when he sees Heather glaring up at him.
Gold eyes flit over to me, caution deep within them, before peering back at the intense woman hovering over him, both hands perched sassily on her hips.
Without anywhere to go, he leans back in his chair, trying to distance himself from her the best he can. “Good rising, Heather. Is there something I can be of assistance with?”
The fact that his voice cracked when he spoke makes me snicker at his expense.
Heather stomps a pseudo-designer-clad foot.
“My bestest best friend in the whole wide galaxy just told me you made her ice cream last night, and that you somehow have every piece of info about humans at your disposal up there in your big head. Is that true?”
Wariness enters his eyes, and his answer is hesitant yet decisive. “Yes, that is all factual information.”
“Well, chop chop. Time is of the essence. Bitches need real coffee.” She pauses with a playful smirk before continuing.
“It’s me. I’m bitches. We won’t be drinking this pretend sludge we’ve all been making do with anymore.
Get to googling, or whatever it is that you do, a place called Starbucks and put their entire menu in that replicator, or so help me God… .”
Bikar is rubbing his nose like he’s trying to keep himself from laughing at how over-the-top dramatic Heather is being.
By the time she’s done talking, I’m laughing so hard I’m crying and can’t breathe again.
Bikar looks over at me with a bemused expression like he can’t believe that just happened.
Shaking my head, I finally calm down enough to talk.
“Don’t look at me. You heard the woman. She takes her coffee very seriously. ”
His exaggerated sigh of resignation sends me into another round of giggles, and I watch Heather follow him to the replicator, listing restaurant after restaurant menu to him as they go.
Well, at least I don’t have to worry about my bestie and my… whatever he is getting along.