Chapter 21
21
The third bar Freddie, the twins, and I stumbled into—after sipping martinis while watching Old Earth twentieth-century flappers dance at the jazz club on deck five, then sampling the objectively bizarre but surprisingly delicious cocktails at the Blurvan tavern on eighteen—was one of my favorites on the ship. It was a dimly lit Venusian pub with dark wood tables and chairs surrounded by rich leather booths, one of which we piled into while a fiddler serenaded us from a small stage in the corner.
It had taken far too many drinks, but the twins were finally loose and laughing. And no longer eyeing every other guest with deep—and honestly kind of menacing—suspicion. Mission accomplished, even if my sobriety was collateral damage.
Sitting across from me, Freddie ran two fingers over the reddish-brown leather of our booth. “I like this place. It reminds me of home.”
I nodded, my head swimming, while Morgath dropped his forehead onto my shoulder and confessed, “I think I’m drunk. ”
Rax snorted, muttered, “Lightweight,” then hiccupped.
Nestling my cheek into Morgath’s green hair, I said, “Never admit to being drunk, darling. We deny it until our faces are deep in the toilet.”
“What in the worlds is going on here?” said a terribly sober voice.
“Chandler!” Freddie almost shouted, scrambling to straighten his hair, his tie, trying his level best to appear sober while I considered hiding under the table. “Sunny and I were only trying to set the twins’ minds at ease regarding the FFKs and that other business with”—he looked around, then mouthed dramatically—“ the senator .” While Chan raised a brow, Freddie explained, “We thought, you know, whiskey ought to do the trick.”
“Did it?” Chan asked. Even his hoverchair seemed dubious, humming reprovingly at us as the fiddler finished one song and started in on another.
“Yep,” I chirped, then asked, “What are you doing here?” shifting the focus away from our drunkenness and aiming it toward the fact that Chan rarely went out to any of the bars on the ship. Certainly never by himself.
Running a hand over his head, he said, “There was an incident at the bowling alley on deck nine. A Vorpol was ‘accidentally’”—he drew quotes in the air—“tripped by a Gorbie during his hopping approach to the line. And in the ensuing scuffle, a bowling ball found its way first through one of the light fixtures, then halfway through the floor on its way back down.”
That wasn’t good. Aside from stepping on their foot, tripping a Vorpol was as disrespectful as getting a Gorbie’s hair wet. Wars had been started for less.
“Did you say the ball found its way ?” Freddie asked, his head tilting, his lips fixed in a pensive pout .
Chan sighed. “Unfortunately. Who threw the ball was a mystery I couldn’t solve. And in the name of keeping interspecies peace, I abandoned the investigation in favor of providing unlimited free bowling for both parties. After that mess, with no help from any of you, by the way, I wanted a drink.”
“Alone?” I asked, my suspicion mounting, my cupid senses tingling. “You’re at a bar by yourself?”
“Well, not exactly,” he replied. His chin ducked. His ears turned pink. Gotcha.
Scooting to the edge of my seat, I peered around our booth, trying—and failing—to be inconspicuous. Failing even harder when I spotted Makenna at a two-top table in the corner of the bar and gasped, “ Chan . Are you on a date?”
“Chandler,” Morgath said knowingly, extending his fist for a bump. “My man.”
“Keep your voices down,” Chan hissed, pushing Morgath’s fist out of the way. “It’s not a date. It’s a friendly get-together. That’s all.”
“Doesn’t look like it’s only a friendly get-together to me,” Freddie said, angling his head to sneak a peek at Makenna. “She’s staring at you. She’s also smiling at you. She’s stare-smiling. Smile-staring? Smaring?” He snorted. “I made up a word.”
“Bravo, Chan,” I cheered, beaming with unrestrained pride. “But why are you here talking to us when you should be over there telling Makenna that her skin is more luminous than the glow of Ulaperia’s moons over the Senasar Sea?”
“Sunny.” His eyes flared. “Could… Can I steal that?”
“Take it and run,” I said. My words were thick and slow, but I didn’t care anymore. I was too busy propping my elbow on the edge of my table, watching Chan cruise back to Makenna, trying to read their lips. Which, in my current state, was surprisingly difficult.
“Shit.” Rax shook his head. “I think I’m drunk too. Come on, Morg. We gotta go.”
“So soon?” I asked, then bit back a squeak when Freddie dove beneath the table to pick up the napkin he’d dropped—and so he could run his fingers up the back of my leg.
“Sorry, Sunny.” Sliding out of the booth, Rax nodded toward his brother and said, “Let’s go, dingus. We’re hitting the training room at zero five hundred.”
“Seriously?” Morgath tripped over his own feet when he tried to stand. “We can’t take one day off?”
Shoving Morgath toward the door, Rax scoffed. “Asks the king of skipping leg day.”
“Bye, Morgath. Bye, Rax,” Freddie shouted after them once he popped back up into his seat. With an elated grin, he said, “I think they’re starting to like me.”
“Well, of course they are, darling. Who wouldn’t like you?” The change in the air was sudden, like a drop in barometric pressure, a realization that it was only me, only him, only a table separating us. We stared at each other, the space between us charged and sparking. “Should we go?”
He nodded, and we climbed out of our booth. I made it down the hall, past the atrium, all the way to the elevator banks before I slid my hand into his, squeezing, brushing my thumb over his skin, the same way he’d done to mine once upon a time. But as soon as the elevator doors slid open, I yanked him inside, pushed him to the back of the car, and said, “Hello, Joshua.”
With a needy growl, he slid his hand up my back to cup my neck, wrapping his other arm around my waist, pulling me close, kissing me deeply. The way his lips fit so perfectly over mine, the soft glide of his tongue, the liquid press of our bodies, it was hard to tell where I ended and he began. Until the elevator dinged, pulling us apart, and I asked, “Walk me home?”
With a quick nod, he followed me out into the hallway, and after checking that the coast was clear, we practically sprinted to my pod. Which, in retrospect, probably wasn’t the best idea. Because by the time we arrived, my head was spinning, and not in a good way. But it would be fine. I’d rally. I’d make it work.
Slamming my hand over the security lock before yanking him inside, I kissed his neck, his mouth, loosening his tie. And he let me, his hands closing over my hips, but something was off. He was hesitant, holding back.
“What’s the matter?” I asked between his lips while I slid his tie free and tossed it to the side. “Don’t you want me?”
Grabbing my ass in both hands, he urged me close, the hardness of him answering my question. “More than anything, but I’m not sure it’s the right time.”
“No time like the present,” I said.
“That’s…true,” he stammered when I took his earlobe between my teeth. “But I think you might be a bit drunk.”
“What?” I pulled back. “Do you have any idea how much alcohol this liver can process? I am a professional.”
“I have no doubt.” Assessing me with a furrowed brow, he said, “But it’s not your liver I’m worried about.”
Closing an eye to keep him from separating into two, I said, “What do you mean?”
“Well,”—he brushed my hair from my forehead—“you’re not normally this green.”
Those were evidently magic words, because once he’d uttered them, nausea roiled through me. Grasping my belly, I stumbled to my bathroom, dropped to my knees, and leaned over the toilet in the nick of time .
Somewhere behind me, he turned on the water.
“Maybe I am drunk,” I admitted while he took a knee beside me on the tile.
“Happens to the best of us,” he said softy, running his hand up and down my back in long, soothing strokes.
I heaved again, amazed there was anything left inside me. When I was done, he flushed the toilet and handed me a damp washcloth.
“This is so embarrassing,” I said, hiding my face behind the washcloth.
“You should be proud.” He tucked my hair behind my ear. “I’ve seen volcanic eruptions that were less productive.”
I laughed, then groaned as he helped me to my feet.
“Drink this,” he said, pressing a glass of cold water into my hand.
I did as ordered, and when he handed me two anti-nox tabs, I took those too.
He led me to my bed, unzipping my dress, kneeling so I could lean on his shoulder while I stepped out of it while he slipped my shoes from my feet one at a time. Then he stood, draped my dress on my dresser, and reached around me to unclasp my bra.
“Hmm,” I murmured, taking one of his hands and placing it over my breast. “That’s more like it.”
He huffed a laugh, but while he used his free hand to reach inside my dresser drawer for something for me to wear, he humored me, his thumb rolling over my nipple, pressing down, almost making me forget how dizzy I was. Until I closed my eyes and the room spun.
“Arms up,” he instructed.
I complied, wobbling on my feet while he slipped my constellation nightshirt over my head. He’d picked that one specifically, like he’d known it was my favorite .
“Now,” he said, turning me around and giving my ass a surprisingly firm swat, “into bed with you.”
When my eyes cracked open, it was late, past midnight. My head pounded and my throat burned. I vowed never to go drinking with Rax and Morgath again. But despite it all, I smiled.
Are you awake? I commed him.
Are you alive? he commed back.
Barely, but yes. Thanks to you. You are very chivalrous, although part of me wishes you weren’t.
After a moment, he said, I have regrets.
I laughed. Did I wake you?
No. Couldn’t sleep. I’ve just been working on my puzzle.
Pulling my covers up to my grinning lips, I asked, Are you a real person?
Aye. I’ve got the parents to prove it and everything.
They looked lovely in your digpics.
Thank you. They are lovely.
I rolled onto my belly, immediately regretting the motion as the dull throbbing behind my temples sharpened. What are their names?
Madelyn and Ethan.
Your mother is beautiful.
That she is. What are…your parents’ names?
He’d hesitated, sounded nervous. And I realized it might have been the first personal question he’d ever asked me. Because he was being careful with me, cautious, respecting my barriers even though he didn’t know why they were there. Which had the effect of making the walls surrounding me softer, thinner, becoming so transparent I could almost see what life might be like on the other side.
Charity and Cosmo. It felt heavy, saying their names, thinking of them. Because I loved them, but I’d hardly spoken to them since the accident. The accident whose anniversary loomed. The walls hardened, closing in again.
Until he said, Well, that explains a lot.
Hey. I rolled onto my back again, grinning up at the ceiling. What’s that supposed to mean?
His laughter was a warm breath between my ears. Just that Sunastara is a… unique name.
Ah, yes. Charity and Cosmo are card-carrying starbies—I think you call them ‘hippies’ on your side of the wormhole.
Does it mean something? Your name?
Reaching blindly for the cup of water he’d left by my bed, I took a tentative sip. Not really. My mother wanted to name me Sun, my father Star. They compromised.
I love your name. It’s beautiful. After a pause, he said, You are beautiful.
After an even lengthier pause—one in which the soft brush of his words tried to prickle my skin and curl my toes—my smile fell, and I sighed.
He was Freddie right now, not Joshua. I was Sunny, not Phoebe. And Freddie and Sunny shouldn’t do this sort of thing. They shouldn’t have late-night VC conversations while lying in bed, no matter how good they felt. No matter how many more questions I wanted to ask him, how much of his life I wanted to know. Because he’d want to know more of my life too, and I’d end up pulling back or shutting down. Or worse, lying to him. Not wanting to do any of those things, I commed, I should get some more sleep.
Should you drink some water first?
Already have. Luckily, someone left me a full glass on my nightstand.
Whoever did that must be very thoughtful.
Extremely. Maybe the most thoughtful being I had ever met.
In the ensuing silence, I wondered if he’d clicked off. But then he said, You take care of everyone aboard this ship. You deserve to be taken care of too. Thank you for letting me. Have sweet dreams, Sunastara Nex.
My heart fluttered against my ribs, delicate and light like butterfly wings. How did he always say these things I didn’t even know I needed to hear? It was unfair. It was lovely. It was tempting. It was time to click off. You too, Freddie… Wait, what’s your last name?
It’s Caruthers.
Really?
Unfortunately.
Fredrick Caruthers? I snorted. Stars , even your name is old-fashioned.
Now you know why I had little choice in how I turned out. Nobody’s asking Freddie Caruthers to the hip hangouts, are they?
Certainly not if he called them ‘hip hangouts.’
Ouch, he commed with laughter in his voice.
Well, good night, Fredrick Caruthers. Is that like the third or fourth? That has to be a family name, right? Handed down from your great-great-great-grandfather?
Haha. You’re very funny.
You didn’t answer the question.
The third, he admitted. I am Fredrick Caruthers the Third.
Amazing, I said, adding, Freddie? before he clicked off .
Yes?
I wanted to thank him for helping me, for being kind, for being…him. But as much as I wanted to be, I wasn’t brave. Have fun with your puzzle.
I couldn’t see his wry grin, but I knew it was there when he said, I always do.