Chapter 8 Stan #2
He lets out a small laugh. It’s barely a sound, but it boils my bloodstream.
Nil yawns again and rubs the back of his neck. The collar of his shirt drops a little, and I catch a peek at the inside of his collarbone and almost walk straight into a wall. “Guess I didn’t sleep enough,” he mutters.
“Do you ever?” I ask. “You toss around a lot. Like, a lot. At one point I thought you were gonna roll off the bunk, and I’d have to catch you.”
Nil’s brows pull together.
“Yeah,” I say. “You move the whole bunk.”
“You watch me sleep?”
“Well, I did when you were in a coma,” I say, because why lie. “What’s the difference if I keep doing it now?”
Nil’s mouth opens like he’s gonna say something, but nothing comes out. His cheeks get pink. Great. Perfect. I’ve broken him before breakfast. Oh, shit, we skipped breakfast.
My thumb rubs at my temple. Kys is really messing with my head. Either that or I’m just catastrophically horny for my roommate. Either way, I’m not even hungry. Well, I am, but not for food.
We’re too far from the mess hall now, and the MedBay doors are getting closer.
So close that I can see the glow around the frame and feel all the words I probably shouldn’t say jumping out of my throat.
“So,” I say, as casual as a heart attack, “do you remember that kiss I offered you the other night?”
Nil stops breathing. I hear it. Or maybe I feel it. He goes bright red, like someone dipped him in cherry syrup. He tries to speak. “Stan—”
“Because,” I continue before my dignity can stop me, “just letting you know it’s still on the table.”
His face goes even redder, which I honestly didn’t think was physically possible. He looks like the world’s hottest cherry. A cherry I would absolutely pop if given the chance.
His eyes dart down to my mouth, and that’s when I realize I need to run for my goddamn life before I pin him against this wall and grind him until the friction makes me come—
“Anyway!” I say way too loud. “MedBay time.”
Before Nil can get a single syllable out, I dodge sideways and sprint through the sliding doors.
Inside, Idris is standing by Em and her tablet. They’re going over scans or something—I don’t know, nerdy doctor stuff—all serious and focused while I’m over here trying not to collapse from the confession I gave the dreamy man I share a room with.
Fuck! What was I thinking?
I plaster on a smile. “Morning, sexy geniuses,” I announce. “Your favorite patient has arrived.”
Em doesn’t even look up. “We don’t have a favorite.”
“That’s denial talking, doc,” I say, gripping the nearest counter so I don’t pass out.
Idris glances up, raises his brow, and goes right back to the scan like he knows I’m being weird but decides not to expose me. Bless his sweet soul.
Behind me, I hear the MedBay doors slide shut when Nil walks in.
My heart slams against my ribs. I tell myself it’s acid reflux from skipping breakfast.
I take my usual seat and look up at him. He’s still red. The sort of red that makes my brain short out because I did that to him. His eyes flick to me for half a sec before he looks anywhere else in the room.
Oh, wonderful, I made things awkward between us.
Way to go, Stan.
Em glances up from the scan she’s adjusting. Her gaze goes to Nil’s face, then mine, then the space between us like she’s collecting data points. She doesn’t say a word about it, but she narrows her eyes at the scan again and then tweaks something on the machine thing that goes on our heads.
Em steps over without looking at me, grabs the machine, and places it over my head.
I eye her, and she pulls her brows together. “Stan, please stop tapping your foot.”
“Physically impossible,” I mutter, trying for that anyway.
It fails when I feel Nil move beside me. His elbow pokes my forearm. Em looks over at her tablet. Idris exchanges concerned glances with her.
Em frowns at her tablet. “Stan, your readings spiked.”
“Oh.” My frown mirrors hers. “Maybe it’s your machine.”
Em takes the head thing off me. “I need to determine whether this is Kys interference or environmental distraction.”
“Maybe I’m just excited to be here,” I say. “Huge fan of medical furniture.”
Nobody laughs. Instead, they look hella worried.
“Tough crowd,” I mumble, pouting.
Idris looks at the tablet too. They don’t say anything out loud, but some sort of silent doctor conversation is definitely happening.
“Stan,” Idris says after a second, voice even. “Come with me for a moment, please.”
“Oh, sure,” I shoot back. “Because that’s not terrifying at all.”
He throws a thumb toward the far corner with curtains.
I peel myself off the chair and give Nil a quick, totally not panicked glance.
He’s less red now, but he looks worried too, which does nothing helpful to my heart rate.
I follow Idris behind the curtain. The second we’re inside, I see a few infirmary beds. I climb onto one and hang my head in my hands.
Idris waits until the curtain falls shut behind us. “I’m going to ask this plainly so it doesn’t sound scary,” he whispers. “Are you feeling any unusual side effects from the new Kys?”
“No.”
He waits. I blow out a breath.
“Okay, physically no,” I offer. “But mentally? I’m a mess, doc.”
I lift my head, seeing Idris’ understanding gaze. They’re a light blue like the open sky. I know he won’t judge me. He doesn’t seem the type, but it’s tough to admit any of this out loud.
Taking a deep breath, I shove that insecurity away. For once, someone’s checking in on me like this. Why not seize the chance? This is exactly why I came on board in the first place. I know I need help.
My knee bounces, but I say it. “Does wanting to slam your mouth into your roommate’s mouth count as a side effect?”
Idris is looking at me like I didn’t just confess something insane.
I smile in relief. “So I’m pretty sure I’m harboring more than a crush on my roomie.”
Idris returns my smile. “I see.”
“And I’m handling it terribly,” I whisper. “Remixed Kys isn’t helping. Being trapped in a box with him every night is definitely not helping. Maybe breakfast would’ve helped, but I missed it.”
“What do you mean by you’re handling it terribly?” Idris sits beside me. “You’re doing well, given all you’ve had to face. There’s nothing terrible about feeling strongly about someone.”
“Tell that to her tablet,” I say, jerking my chin toward where the equipment is probably still tattling on me through the curtain.
“It’s just doing its job,” Idris says. “Telling the truth.”
I groan and flop on the infirmary bed. “Great. So even machines know I like him.”
“The good news is that isn’t an issue,” Idris says.
“Feels like one,” I mumble.
“Mind if I ask how long these feelings have been around?”
“Before this ship. Before his fall. Long enough that it’s definitely not a phase.”
“And does Nil know?”
“Probably. He looks upset.” I lean on my elbows. “He barely survived me suggesting a kiss. If I said worse, you and Em might need to sedate him.”
Idris’ smile stretches. “For what it’s worth, Nil doesn’t seem upset.”
“He looked like a cherry,” I say. “Which is my fault.”
“You’re not doing anything wrong to him,” Idris says. “He just seemed surprised.”
“So…?’
“So that means nothing bad’s happening.”
“Tell that to my heart,” I whisper, not too dramatic. Okay, fine, I’m being dramatic. Sue me.
Idris’ smile dims a bit. “Stan, you’ve been through a lot. More than most people. Caring about someone isn’t a flaw in your system.”
I sit up a little. “But I don’t know what to do, Idris,” I say quietly. “He matters a lot to me. I can’t keep being a screw-up.”
“You want honest advice?”
“Sure,” I say. “Hit me with some medical wisdom.”
“This isn’t medical,” he whispers with a tiny laugh. “Stan, life is short, and second chances rarely take place. I think you know that better than anyone.”
I look away. My chest is all wound up again.
“But something scaring you into thinking you might make a mistake…” He nods at the curtain. “That doesn’t mean you will make a mistake.”
I breathe out slow. “Right.”
“Don’t talk yourself out of something that could help you heal,” Idris adds.
“No promises,” I say, sliding off the bed.
He stands, patting my shoulder. “Not asking for any promises. Keep being yourself. You can make my brother talk. You can break Em’s readings. Pretty sure you can do anything.”
Huffing out a laugh, I feel myself warming up to that belief. “You sure you don’t moonlight as a therapist?”
“I’m sure about that.” Idris chuckles. “I’m not confident I’d make a good therapist, but I’m confident in being your friend.”
“…with benefits?”
He levels me with a look.
“Okay, okay,” I admit. “Bad joke. Ignore me.”
Idris shakes his head, still smiling. “Stan, you’re alright, really. You’re doing better than you think.”
“You think I can actually do this, huh?”
“I think you’ve already started,” he says, stepping toward the curtain. “Let’s get you back out there before both of them assume you flatlined.”
“Honestly, they wouldn’t be wrong,” I mutter, following him out. “I think my heart gave out for a minute.”
He laughs under his breath while we go back out there, and I find Nil’s eyes on me. Instead of listening to my heartbeat going crazy, I smile at him, showing him I’m okay. At least, for now.
***
Most of the day’s passed, and the gym’s the last place I should be right now. But I’m here.
I hate this place. There’s mirrors everywhere like the ship designer had a personal vendetta against me. Like they saw Ma’s haunted home office, where she forced me to do unthinkable things, and said, “Yeah, let’s stick with this. Retraumatize Stan. That’ll do him some good.”
Groaning, I keep trying to look anywhere else, but every surface keeps throwing my own face back at me like a handsome jump scare.
But the thing is, no one comes in here. Why would they? The actual food’s in the mess hall and nobody wants to work out a sweat when there’s a free buffet and better Kys being handed out.