Chapter 11
She can only imagine how pleasurable that demeanor of his would be in the bedroom.
Taking charge, leading her for a change.
It might be would be refreshing. Her last several sexual experiences felt overly orchestrated.
As if she and her partner were players in the live production Kinky Sex.
Sure, they were adventurous. And physically and momentarily satiating.
But passionate, not at all. Not spontaneous, not heart-stopping.
Not this reckless feeling that now has her in its clutches as she crawls into bed.
James offered her a mighty protest, but she didn’t miss how his eyes dipped to her mouth, then her chest. She thought for a moment that he was going to betray every word he’d uttered and take her against the wall. The thought makes gooseflesh erupt across her skin.
No, she chides herself. She can’t do it. Especially to the fantasy of a man who wants nothing to do with her. Sure, he finds her sexually attractive, but he simultaneously feels disgusted by her. He thinks she’s a lonely woman.
But isn’t she?
Her loneliness was the reason she finally broke down and ordered the GROW kit in the first place. She sighs as she turns over again, resolving to ignore the ache between her thighs. They have bigger problems to tackle; for example, his three-month countdown.
Getting a fake ID is a good idea, but James finding work enough to pay for his lease feels like a near impossibility.
Does he have some skill that translates to the modern world?
And will he be able to learn enough about the current time to pass as someone born in this century?
At least she can cover month four while they figure it out.
After how bewildered he’d been throughout the day, she knows his learning curve will be steep. K8 falls asleep with thoughts of her unexpected plight still swirling in her mind.
October 7, 2390, Day 81.
“Good morning!” she chirps as James emerges from the bedroom. The lines etching his face seem a little less deep. As if he is more relaxed. “How did you sleep?”
He makes his way to the kitchen, avoiding her gaze, which strikes her as odd considering the lion she encountered last night. “Fine, thanks,” he mumbles.
She follows him, finding him rifling around in the cold storage. He pulls out a pick-me-UP nourishment packet and downs it in one quick gulp. Perhaps he is learning more quickly than she anticipated.
Her stomach flutters, but she spent all morning gearing herself up for setting her boundary.
She clears her throat. “About last night.” His shoulders stiffen, but she bravely presses forward, determined to tackle the issue head-on.
“I appreciate that what you’re going through is overwhelming, but you must learn to control your temper.
Speaking to me that way is inappropriate. ” Zephyr, she hates confrontation.
“You’re right. I was rude, so I apologize. I’ll do better.” His words surprise her. Again, without eye contact, he brushes past her, out of the room.
She didn’t expect his acquiescence so quickly. So again, she follows him, now more confused than ever. “That’s it?”
He glances up, letting his gaze dart over her outfit before meeting her stare with a pained expression.
“Yes. I was wrong. While I meant what I said, I shouldn’t have approached the situation in anger.
I apologize. I won’t speak to you that way again.
There is nothing more to say. Unless there is something else bothering you? ”
She twirls a lock of hair as she considers his apology, determining that she is satisfied with it and more than a little happy her confrontation was successful, and she can move onto more pleasant things. “Nothing else.”
“Good.” He rummages around her desk, looking for what, she doesn’t know. “Do you have any paper? Like a notebook or something. Or maybe the tablet you mentioned. I’d like to do some research,” he says, still not looking at her.
Maybe he feels shame for the way he spoke to her?
Well, that’s understandable. “Sure. Let me go get it.” She collects a spare tablet from her bedroom, handing it to him.
“No paper, but”—she points to the stylus—“you can use that, and there’s an app called Scrawl you can take notes in.
” She picks up the crystal VR headset from her desk.
“You can link these to the tablet if you want. I have some work to do.”
He takes the items offered to him. Despite the fact that he can hardly make eye contact with her, she thinks the morning is going rather well.
She sits down at her desk and logs on to her system.
Out of the corner of her eye, she sees James go to the kitchen and come back with a bottle of water.
He arranges himself in the corner of the couch.
Once the tablet’s retina scanner recognizes his GROW DNA signature that she programmed that morning, it unlocks.
About fifteen minutes later, the glow from the particle panes transforms from a serene pink sunrise to a lush green. She glances up from her work to see James operating the remote with the tablet perched on his knee. An image of a dense jungle surrounds them.
He taps the remote again and the scene changes to a busy skyline.
A clear night sky frames clunky, block-shaped buildings.
The white and yellow lights that illuminate their windows are clearly visible from the vantage point of the photographer lending a glittery feel to the scene.
There’s no air pollution. No SATs or MagTrack lines. A boyish grin creeps across his face.
“Is that from your time?” she calls across the room.
He sets the remote down as he surveys the image, clearly pleased with himself.
“New York City. Home.” After an extended pause, he continues.
“Well, it used to be, I guess.” Then he shakes his head like he’s throwing off a memory.
It’s clear to her that he really loved his world—or maybe the place he’d made for himself in it.
She can’t help but ask, “What do you see when you look at it?”
His brows furrow—something she’ll have to book an appointment for—and he turns to her. “I suppose I see progress. Forward momentum and limitless possibilities. I think that’s what New York City has always represented to people. I guess not anymore.”
“No, not anymore,” she agrees.
“Well, we’re making the most of it, aren’t we?” He looks away. “No use dwelling on the past and things we can’t change.”
Her stomach lurches in the same funny way it did the night before, even as something in her chest expands.
Pride? Or something more nefarious, like a craving?
It almost hurts. Seeing James figure out what she thinks is an irritating bit of technology so quickly gives her hope.
That’s what it is. This man elicits so many confusing emotions in her.
His hope about the future gives her an unexpected affinity for him.
As if his inexperience in her world and his willingness to meet it head-on is drawing her to him.
She’s intensely curious to know more about him, yet she’s wary to push.
Curiosity. Well, that’s harmless. Probably.
As she carries on with her daily routine, she resolves to respect his boundaries.
The truth is, he guessed correctly about hoping he might be the answer to her loneliness problem, and that’s why it stung so much.
Or maybe he didn’t guess. He saw her like no one from her time has.
It’s beyond her how modern society became so disconnected.
Every time she even tries to scratch the surface and discuss something deeper than the latest cosmetic treatment or exercise simulation with her FRIENDS, their eyes glaze over.
Or they become overly cynical about it, like her conversation with Jett the other day.
At least he didn’t shut her down outright.
It’s only that the same question continues to gnaw at her.
How has she not met anyone with similar desires?
It’s as if true vulnerability is the plague of her time.
Since James has positioned himself as off-limits, a lottery win from the Birthing Agency is still her only hope.
It was stupid to think he might be an opportunity.
Surely having a baby with someone from her time would foster some sort of connection.
There would be companionship as they brought the child through its early years together.
And that is if she could find someone willing to give it a chance with her.
The lottery win would give her the leverage she needs. Something valuable to offer.
Instead, the universe has gifted her with this man.
A man who has no interest in her—not a gift so much as a taunt.
I’m not your friend, he said. And they didn’t have manupartners during his time.
Marriages, partners, and what they called “friends with benefits” were commonplace.
Why couldn’t they be that? She woke up early that morning and did her research in an effort to better understand him.
What she learned only confounds her more. He still doesn’t want her.
That only reinforces the notion that there is something wrong with her.
She’s been clinging to this overripe longing for so many years that it’s started to taste stale.
The scientist in her refuses to review the evidence.
Time passes by with no hope of change. No matter what she does, she still comes up wanting.
Does that make her a fool? She can feel the sob welling up inside her throat at the gut-wrenching thought.
No, she can’t do this. If she breaks down in front of him, he will think she’s even more pitiable than he already does.