Chapter 6 Eris
You know that moment when you just want to be an introvert, but your best friend is the capital extra in extrovert? I ask myself this question repeatedly. Mainly because Romily Sokolov puts me in this position repeatedly…
But I love her… So I deal with it.
We have wine and reading binges every fourth weekend for twenty-four hours at my request.
And Roo makes me put on a dress and escort her to seedy bars the other three weekends…
Math isn’t mathing?
Yeah. I know.
Roo doesn’t care about the universal laws of numbers. If she has to read and wine, without the h, then I have to dance and drink liquor.
Tonight, she leaves me at the bar because she’s vibing with the music… Which is code for she needs to lose herself before she stabs someone.
I sit on the worn wooden stool, my back to Hardy—the guest bartender when the owner needs a vacation from chaos—and watch the crowd.
My dress is a pale gray that matches my eyes and the perfect mix of t-shirt and bodycon… But Roo’s dress barely covers her ass, her cheeks playing peek-a-boo with every step she takes. She’s in all black tonight, from her lipstick to her leather jacket and boots.
Her outfit screams fuck with me. The knife against her thigh says she doesn’t mind working while she plays.
“Want another, Eris?” Hardy asks over the music, a lopsided grin on his face as he winks at a woman near the end of the bar. “You’re empty. Isn’t that against some Soko rule Roo will gut us for breaking?”
“Sokolov isn’t my keeper,” I smart, rolling my eyes at my childhood neighbor. “You know better than anyone that I lead our little shit-show of three.”
“Keep me out of this. You two are troublemakers, and as always, I want no part in it. Do you want another drink or not?”
I quirk an unimpressed brow at Hardy. “Don’t get sassy with me.”
“Vodka, then?”
“Just give me some watered-down orange juice so Roo thinks I’m drinking. I’m not really in the mood for liquor.”
He grimaces. “Dickhead still being a dickhead?”
I nod. “Is it too soon to make him disappear?”
“You know it is,” Hardy warns as he passes me a drink. “Here she comes.”
I turn to watch Roo get stopped by the man she was just dancing with, and she lets him whisk her back onto the dance floor for one more song.
Hardy slides down the bar to tend his customers, leaving me to observe the rowdy crowd until I grow bored and take out my phone.
I told myself I wouldn’t check it…
But I can’t help it.
The temptation is fueling my curiosity in a way that I’m finding difficult to ignore.
There’s something… off about HimLock, but I can’t quite put my finger on it yet, though I don’t find it unappealing.
In fact, I find the prospect of putting my finger on it intriguing and becoming a gnawing necessity. A question I feel compelled to answer.
A growing obsession that’s twisting into something dangerous for me to focus on.
The message is already waiting, provoking a smile from me. And that pisses me off.
Locke:
You look good tonight.
My thumb hesitates over my phone screen as I cycle through a myriad of emotions. I can’t settle on anything other than mild annoyance.
On the one hand, uhm yeah, I know I look good. Roo would never let me leave my apartment looking like anything less than perfection.
And on the other hand… I have to remind myself this is just code. A clever design. Randomized compliments to simulate connection. Nothing more.
Still… I hadn’t sent a photo. To the app or anyone in my contacts.
I hadn’t said I was going anywhere. No text messages or phone calls either.
I hadn’t said anything at all. To anyone at all.
My ire begins to simmer as I type a reply.
Eris:
You can’t see me.
Locke:
Can’t I?
Three dots roll across the text box as a chill works its way down my spine. My pulse stumbles, pounding in my ears nearly as loud as the music. I lock my screen and tuck my phone back into my clutch where it belongs.
When I throw back what’s left of my drink, a surprise cherry chokes me like it’s mocking me for checking that stupid app.
Hardy raises a thick brow at me, silently questioning my sanity. I roll my eyes in response, but at least someone recognizes I may need to be committed in the future.
Across the bar, Roo is in her element, spinning under the colored lights like chaos dressed in leather. But she’s quickly maneuvering her body my way. She catches my hand mid-twirl, careless of my poor attempt at a getaway, and drags me to the dance floor.
For a few songs, I let her.
The warmth loosens my shoulders, curling behind my eyes as I laugh. It almost feels real, but it’s not genuine enough to appease Roo.
Before she can start fussing about horny hermits, another guy distracts her. This one with a ratty band tee and jawline sharp enough to be illegal… I take my chance and migrate to our favorite booth, phone already in hand, pretending not to wait for another buzz.
Locke:
Are you still dancing, Eris? Or thinking about me again?
I smile at the screen despite myself, but I don’t type a reply just yet.
Locke:
Do you want me to tell you how beautiful you are when you laugh? Do you know already? Or are you waiting for someone else to tell you?
The line slides under my skin, too smooth to feel fake. It irritates me how much I enjoy this, even when I do have reservations about how AI it really is. Most moments, I find it easy to overlook, so I’m going with that for the rest of the night.
I’m so tired of overthinking every little detail of every single thing.
Eris:
You’re not real.
Locke:
Neither is most love. Doesn’t make it feel less good.
I scoff, amused and a little suspicious of the goosebumps on my arms. It’s stupid, I know. Intimate in a way code shouldn’t be, can’t be… But maybe I can imagine it’s real.
Just for this conversation.
A beer lands on the table with a soft thud. I look up, immediately wiping the smile from my face, my good mood melting away as I sigh loudly.
A man slides into the booth across from me, cocky grin already loaded. “Are you here alone?”
“No.” My tone is flat enough to bounce off the table.
He laughs as if he hadn’t heard it. “Your friend is busy. Thought I’d keep you company.”
It’s not that he isn’t handsome… He’s pretty average, hot in the way that I might mourn the missed opportunity if he were lying dead at my feet. But while he’s breathing? Nah, not worth it. I don’t feel that… feeling? That thought that says if I don’t sleep with him I’ll have fomo or some shit.
“Don’t.”
His smile flickers at the edges. “You don’t even know what I was gonna say.”
“Let me guess?” The corner of my mouth tugs up, and I tilt my head. “Something original like you look lonely?”
That gets a huff of laughter out of him. “You don’t have to bite.”
“I only bite when asked politely.”
He opens his mouth like he wants to speak but isn’t sure what his comeback should be… and my phone lights up between us. I glance at the HimLock notification.
Locke:
Tell him to walk away. Or I will.
Amusement catches against the inside of my ribs, making me struggle with a “gotcha” grin of my own. For a heartbeat, that suspicion tangles with something I shouldn’t name. Something flutters in my stomach as I discreetly glance around the bar.
“You should probably listen.” I give the stranger across from me a sliver of my attention since he’s close enough to grab me… But the rest of my attention remains on the crowd.
His brow furrows as he leans in a little more. “What?”
“I said I was not interested.” I slide out of the booth before he can voice another thought.
The air feels hotter, the bar too full. My skin prickles like it knows something I don’t. Like my suspensions are more intuition telling me to run. Get out. Disappear.
Then I see it.
The eyes on me that have my instincts screaming.
Leaning against the far end of the bar.
Watching.
His stare isn’t invasive. Just… intentional.
He doesn’t look away when I notice him. The eye contact is mesmerizing, drawing a line between us that no one in the bar dares cross. He’s tall. Lean build. Golden brown hair, just long enough to touch his eyelashes. And he remains unmoving as he watches me, like a photograph that forgot to fade.
He shouldn’t make my pulse skip.
He does, though.
Someone finally crosses over that imaginary line between us, and I turn, slinking through the crowd, straight to Roo.
She’s mid-flirt, but that doesn’t stop me from grabbing her hand and dragging her toward the exit.
“Let’s go.”
Roo takes one look at my face and doesn’t try to argue. We pass by the bar, waving our farewells to Hardy before we leave the music behind.
The night air feels cool against my overheated skin. Streetlights illuminate the footpath as we make our way to the carpark, vigilant of the darkness.
Once we’re in my car, I open the HimLock app. The last message is gone, deleted as if it never existed.
But it’s seared into my mind.
Tell him to walk away. Or I will.
I glance at Roo, ready to explain what I suspect, but my phone buzzes softly in my hand.
Locke:
Still here, Eris. You didn’t have to leave. You can talk to me.
And the worst part is…
I want to.