Chapter 41
Electra
Between planning for the first official Dear Electra meet and greet, which sold out within an hour, and the convoluted process of getting her ID, she’s fallen behind on the column itself.
The thought of dishing out advice like she knows what she’s talking about has become draining.
She stares blankly at her full FrogBlog inbox.
Are you even qualified to give out advice?
He said you could come home, and you just sat there.
Technically, she offered to have lunch—as friends.
Oh God, did she mess up the one chance she had?
When he pulled her chair nearer like a Neanderthal, her heart stupidly tried to leap out of her chest. He’s choosing me!
she thought. Then he rejected her lunch invitation twenty minutes later.
How pathetic can she possibly be? This isn’t impostor syndrome.
It’s simply that she isn’t capable of running her own life, much less advising people on how to run theirs.
Why does this always happen—nope. She mentally grabs the other shoe and tosses it over her shoulder.
At least she’s getting better at catching herself now.
She can’t think that way. It doesn’t matter if some man chooses her.
She needs to choose herself. The people of MSP clearly have.
Her fans need her, and she refuses to give her writer’s block—regardless of the form it takes—fertile soil to take root.
For every advice request in her inbox, there’s another reader writing to tell her how her words made them consider unexpected possibilities, or gave them hope.
Janet would be proud of the work she’s doing.
With renewed vigor, she scrolls through her inbox until a message catches her eye.
HELP! I’m in love with a human woman.
Intrigued, she clicks on the message.
Dear Electra,
I’m a 120 y/o man, hopelessly in love with a 29 y/o human woman.
Electra’s heart catches in her throat. Username: @unknownerror2271. In case her memory is playing tricks on her, she finds the previous ID message from days ago to confirm. It’s him. Her pulse races as she returns to the message.
I think I might have fallen in love with her the moment she opened her eyes in my lab and I saw that spark that is distinctly hers.
The draw I felt toward her scared the shit out of me.
I’m such a coward that I’ve been fighting it ever since.
My fear led me to hold back truths from her I wasn’t ready to admit to myself.
She saw me though, and by seeing me, forced me to confront the parts of myself I felt ashamed of.
I lashed out, and for that I’m deeply sorry.
I insinuated I would trade her for someone else who’s lost to me, but I realize he’s gone.
I’ve known it since that miserable day nearly a hundred years ago.
The truth is, I would trade almost anything and anyone to get him back.
He’s my twin—someone who feels like a missing half of my brain.
But I’ve discovered that she’s the other half of my heart.
She brings a lightness to my life each day. She makes me laugh and keeps me guessing. When I’m with her, I feel alive in a way I haven’t felt for the longest time. Since Jerme.
I’m not sure I’ll ever be whole, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes to show her I can be a better person. Someone who is worthy of her trust and affection. Maybe even her love.
For so long, I wasn’t willing to open up—to risk losing someone again. But she’s worth it. So please, Electra, tell me what I need to do to win her back.
To win you back, because I miss you desperately.
Please know that I’m eternally yours,
Res6
Electra wipes the tears away with the back of her hand, rereading his heartfelt words. What did it cost him to write this? She glances at the time stamp from two days ago. He must have known it would sit in her inbox and been prepared to wait.
Knowing him, he’d probably bide his time indefinitely, waiting for her to work through her own issues.
For years, she imagined herself patiently building something.
She thought she had been chasing success to give her a solid foundation.
She even convinced herself that she’d find love when everything was perfect.
Secure. Then she’d get a real boyfriend and have her own happily ever after.
If Dear Electra were to take her own advice, she would accept that life can be chaotic and that to create the rich connection she desires, she has to take risks.
She must trust in the future and revel in the messiness of the human condition in the same way she dances with the muses when she writes her stories.
Maybe Dear Electra would say something like “Finding true love is like looking through both sides of a two-way mirror at once. You must see the other person for who they truly are and accept them despite their imperfections. The challenge is to see the spots in your own reflection and offer yourself the same grace.”
Is that what Janet was always trying to tell her? That she is worthy of love and good things as she is? How could she expect him to choose her if she couldn’t even make peace with herself, though?
She chuckles at the ridiculousness of it all.
They are quite a pair. Her with the advice she dishes out but never takes.
Then there’s the juxtaposition that is Res6.
The awkward-in-private, smooth-in-public figure, the fumbling sex god, the devoted-yet-walled-off man.
The more she thinks about him, the deeper the longing burrows in her chest. She wants him, flaws and all.
Thinking of their flaws reminds her of Res6 and his DumBot dates.
She crawls off the cot in Sister Xelna’s spare room, ignoring her stiff body, because she knows what she needs to do.
A nervous energy propels her forward as she freshens up, then races out of the unit.
He’s already waited this long; she’s loath to make him wait longer.
Res6’s tower in A Quadrant is two towers over from the one she’s been living in and connected by enclosed sky bridges.
She’s panting by the time she’s power walked to their usual simulation chamber to make an appointment.
Then she heads to his private SAT garage.
When the perky blonde attendant recognizes her, frowning, she says, “Remember me?”
The woman deflates. “I had hoped he recycled you.”
“He isn’t nearly done with me yet.” The woman’s frown deepens, but Electra adds, “I make him very happy.”
“Funny, he’s seemed out of sorts the last dozen times I’ve seen him.”
A pang of guilt hits her, and for a moment, she’s at a loss for words. “That’s because I had to go in for a tune-up. But I’m back.”
Twenty minutes later, she’s in a SAT humming across MSP toward CHOICElover’s headquarters.
The pink neon lights of the logo shine through the smog, nearly blinding her as the SAT pulls up to Res6’s private garage entrance.
As soon as the airlock releases, she bolts out of the vehicle and rushes down the halls, not paying any mind to the staff who are giving her odd looks.
She finds his door. It’s closed. She debates knocking, but taking a play out of his book, she turns the handle before she can chicken out.
It’s unlocked. Butterflies dance in her stomach as she pushes the door open.
Res6 doesn’t look up from where he leans on his desk, head buried in his hands.
The blue glow from his system illuminates him in a soft light in an otherwise dark room.
She slips in and shuts the door. He glances up.
“Hi.” She lifts her hand in a shy wave.
“Electra? What are you doing here?” He jumps up, rushing around the desk to her. His assessing gaze follows his hands over her shoulders, then down her arms. “Is everything okay?”
She steps back, chuckling. “Oh God, I’m sorry. I should have realized showing up like this would make you worry. I’m fine.”
His brows furrow deeply, his panic still resonating in the small room. She reaches up and brushes his cheek. “I’m fine,” she soothes.
He cups her hand against his stubble, allowing his eyes to close. “You scared me. What are you doing here?”
“I came to see if you would go somewhere with me?” She takes in the symmetrical planes and angles of his face, his soft golden hair, and the dark blond eyelashes to match.
The gently sloping lines of his lips that she knows are smooth, yet firm under hers.
The warm tone of his skin that made her think she woke up to Adonis. He’s so beautiful and all hers.
His eyes snap open, and he stares down his perfectly sculpted nose at her incredulously. “Where?”
“A surprise outing.” She grins as his brows lift, intrigued. “Don’t worry, it’s not a date.”
He scoffs. “That’s too bad.”
She steps into his space. “If you agree to go, you can touch me.”
“I’ll go. Praise Zorg.” The tension in his body unwinds as he pulls her into his chest.
His arm wraps around her ribs, the other threading through her hair to grip the base of her neck. She slides her hands from his chest around his waist, relishing the feel of him, the firm muscle and his warmth that she could so easily melt into.
He takes a deep inhale. “You smell so good. It’s funny the things you miss when someone is gone.”
“I’m not gone,” she says. “I’m right here.”
“Where are we?” He glances around, taking in the forest clearing in the simulation chamber.
“It’s from a scene in one of my favorite books. It’s the place where the hero first sees the heroine bathing in moonlight. She’s using her power, which he doesn’t realize because he’s so smitten.”
“Is that what you’re doing?” He asks.
“Huh?” She glances back at him.
He tugs her hand, pulling her close. “Using your power on me.”
She laughs. “I wish. You would be much easier to manage.”
“If you could manage me, what would you have me do?”