Chapter 12
Tavryn
Banjo’s kiss still tingles on my lips as I watch him walk away.
My fingers twitch of their own volition, wanting to reach for him, but I stop myself.
This is ridiculous. I’ve never been clingy during sex, mostly because my recent sexual encounters have been nameless one-night stands.
I don’t just know Banjo’s name though, I know him, and it’s making everything intensely intimate.
Plus, it’s not like I can walk away from him. I’ll see Banjo every day whether I like it or not, at least for the next several months. Unless, of course, I drop him off somewhere. Fantasizing about that isn’t quite as fulfilling as it was when we first met.
I cover my face with my hands, groaning at the thought. Did I only make it a week before falling into bed with him? It had obviously been far too long, if I was that desperate.
I lay in bed for a few more minutes, listening as Banjo sings while he cooks, his clear voice carrying over all the clanging.
A pang of something that feels suspiciously like longing shoots through my chest. For…
Banjo? No, that can’t be. Banjo is merely an acquaintance that’s decent in bed.
I don’t have any feelings about or for him other than that.
I only feel off because of the long day.
I close my eyes, immediately seeing a flash of Ovyrblyn’s pleading eye right before I launched that final dagger into his heart.
I roll over with a groan and bury my face in the pillow, all of the pleasant, sated feelings from my releases quickly replaced by guilt.
No wonder I’m so eager to have Banjo in bed with me.
He’s a distraction, and I’m in desperate need of a good distraction.
Eventually, the gross, crusty feeling of my shirt outweighs my need to continue wallowing in self-loathing.
I force myself out of bed and across the hall to my own room.
Banjo is too distracted by cooking to notice me, thankfully.
I doubt I’m in any sort of state to be seen outside of the dim light of the bedroom.
I carefully peel off my shirt, tossing it to the floor before starting the water in the shower.
I stare longingly at the tub as I wait for the water to heat up. My back is already complaining from the physical activity, and a long soak would soothe some of the ache. Unfortunately, I don’t have that kind of time. The last thing I want is for Banjo to come looking for me.
It’s better to be quick tonight, which means I’ll have to forgo washing my hair. Really, I should cut it off. It’s becoming too much of a hassle, but I haven’t been able to make the leap. Like my carefully curated outfits, my hair is part of the persona I want others to see. My armor.
I’m feeling more like myself when I’m out of the shower and wrapped in my favorite short-sleeved, sage green robe. The warm water washed away my messy thoughts along with the literal mess on my stomach.
As I walk into the kitchen, my eyes immediately water from the overpowering spicy smell. Banjo has some kind of fan running and is yelling at Stells.
“You sure the recipe said a tablespoon?” he asks, covering his face with his arm as the pan’s contents turn darker and darker. “I’m thinkin’ it meant a pinch, not a big heapin’ one like you said.”
“I’m only relaying the information in the recipe Oliver sent,” Stells replies, managing to sound pretty offended for an AI.
“Questions regarding the appropriateness of the recipe should be directed at him. I am merely the messenger. Are you certain you used the right kind of pepper?” By the way Banjo frowns down at the spice bottles, it’s safe to assume the answer is no.
I walk over to the stove and turn the burner off before things get worse. This close, my eyes, nose, and throat feel like they’re on fire.
“Stells, set the climate controls to vent on high.” A moment later, the larger ventilation system kicks on.
I lead Banjo away from whatever diabolical concoction he’s been cooking, bringing him on board my ship.
The climate control should keep out the smell just fine.
He looks quite flustered, with his face and chest all red, though that might be from the heat.
“What…” I begin. Banjo’s whole face falls as he expects me to reprimand him. It’s enough to make me pause and take a breath. “What were you attempting to make?”
“Oliver told me it’s a curry?” Banjo says, a bit of life returning to his expression when he realizes I’m not yelling. “I, uh, think I might’ve gotten some of the spices mixed up. They weren’t in English, and the translator thing ain’t good at helpin’ me read better.”
I let out a little snort of laughter. He’s not wrong. The translator chip doesn’t impact visual comprehension of languages at all.
“I’m sorry, Tav. I was hopin’ to make somethin’ special for you. You know, after we…” His face grows even redder as he looks away from me, unable to hold my gaze. I hate how endearing it is. How endearing he is.
“I suppose you’ll just have to speak with Oliver and find out where you went wrong so you can try again,” I tell him as I head into the ship’s kitchen. “Until then, make me this.” I toss him a blue box of mac 'n' cheese from one of the cupboards. He catches it with a grin.
“You got more Doritos?” he asks. I roll my eyes.
“Of course, I have more Doritos.” I have enough to keep me stocked for a year, just in case.
The only problem is, I’m not wearing my boots, and the chips are stored on one of the higher shelves—my attempt at keeping myself from snacking on them in the middle of the night.
I chew lightly on my lower lip and glance up at the shelf, wishing I had my boots on.
“Somethin’ wrong?” Banjo asks, coming to stand at my side. He looks up at the Doritos, then down at me. He blinks once. Twice. By the third time, it clicks. “Oh! You’re short!”
I glare up at him with a heat that could rival Banjo’s failed cooking attempt. “I am not short,” I say with a huff. “You are just obnoxiously tall.” Banjo is studying me closely now, his mind clearly working overtime.
“You’re normally as tall as me though,” he points out, as if I were unaware. He’s lucky he’s so pretty and does my chores, or I’d seriously be rethinking the whole “keeping him around” thing.
“Yes.” I hesitate, not wanting to explain. It’s stupid. Banjo is looking at me right now, barefoot. He’s going to put two and two together eventually. “My boots have lifts in them.” Heels is more accurate, considering they’re several inches tall, but “lifts” sounds less embarrassing.
“Oh.” Banjo’s eyes widen in understanding. “That explains why your butt looks so good all the time.” He grins widely at me, and I let out an unexpected laugh, tail flicking happily behind me.
This flirty dynamic between us isn’t new, but now that we’ve acted on our obvious attraction, it feels different.
Banjo might kiss me. Or, even worse, I might be inclined to kiss him.
I should step back while I still have a chance.
My legs seem to have a different opinion since they stay right where they are.
He’s close enough that I have to tilt my head back a little to look up at him. “Are you implying it doesn’t look good now?” I ask.
“Your butt looks great now.” Banjo answers me immediately, proving to me that he does, in fact, contain some modicum of intelligence. “But I could probably use another look at it. You know. Just to make sure.” He has the nerve to wink at me, and I nearly swoon.
Pull yourself together, Tavryn!
“Cook dinner to my liking, and I’ll consider it,” I tell him dismissively.
I back over to the kitchen table and sit on the stool facing Banjo.
It’s definitely to supervise him, since he’s already proven himself incompetent today, and not just because he’s wearing those tight, skimpy shorts again.
“And try to be quick about it. I’m starving. ”
Banjo doesn’t look over at me, but I can tell he’s smiling. And no matter how hard I try not to, I find myself smiling too.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m shoveling warm, cheesy goodness into my mouth.
Banjo sits across the table, seemingly more interested in me than the food.
It’s enough to have a blush creeping across my cheeks.
Maybe I should have gotten dressed instead of lounging around in my robe.
I haven’t even bothered to take my hair down from the messy bun I put it in before the shower.
Eventually, the blatant staring becomes too much. “Can I help you?” The words are harsher than I intend, but they get Banjo’s attention.
“Huh?” Banjo’s body jerks up, like he had no idea he’d been ogling me for several minutes. “No. No. I just…” He trails off, looking down as he pushes the noodles around in his bowl. I watch him hungrily. Is he not going to eat that?
Before I can ask, he continues. “I meant what I said, Tav. You’re the prettiest thing I've ever seen.” His cheeks are getting pinker as he talks.
“And I know I gotta go back to Earth once we get Remington, but until then…well, I was kinda hopin’ you might wanna fool around with me again.
” He finally meets my gaze, and there’s so much hope in his eyes.
“I know I might not be what you’d normally want, but I promise I’ll do my best to make you real happy. ”
I stare at this beautiful, sweet human across from me. He’s right. He’s not what I would normally want. I never in a million years would have imagined degrading myself enough to sleep with a human, but Banjo is obviously no ordinary human.
I lick a bit of sauce off my spoon to buy myself another moment. Banjo’s eyes flick down to watch the movement, his own tongue swiping over his bowed upper lip. I want to agree with him. I’m going to agree with him. But he doesn’t have to know yet.
“Flattery can only get you so far,” I tell him, tilting my chin up so I can look down at him as best I can.