Chapter 24
24
“Bloody hell,” Freddie gasped after his door slid open.
Raising my black cat mask from my eyes, still a little shaken from my conversation with Garran, I purred, “Well, hello to you too.”
As his gaze traveled down my body and back up again, leaving a trail of sparks in its wake, he took a breath and said, slowly, carefully, “You’re wearing the dress. The dress. Do you know that you’re wearing the dress? I mean”—he cleared his throat, sliding his hands into his pockets—“this time, tonight, did you…mean to wear it?”
I nodded, my breath catching in my throat as he took a step toward me, the fire in his eyes close to singeing the dress straight off my body. “Are you sure you want to work tonight?” he asked. “The ship is passing the Spiral star cluster. We could go to the observatory.”
“Is that a pretty one?” I asked, feeling him move into my space, heating it up like morning shifting into afternoon.
He leaned in close, his lips brushing over my ear as he whispered, “Gorgeous.”
“Garran would never forgive us,” I protested weakly, my conviction teetering, my hands fisting at my sides when he pressed a kiss onto my neck. “Besides, after yesterday?—”
“Mm-hmm.” His voice was a seductive rumble, his breath a soft caress on my skin. “I remember yesterday. I can still feel yesterday.”
“Stop,” I gasped when his fingertips slid over my hip.
“Stop what?”
“Stop Joshua ing me.” Summoning all the willpower I possessed in my entire body, I placed my hand on his firm chest and pushed him back a step. “We need to focus. We’ve got a job to do, and it doesn’t involve making out like teenagers in this hallway.”
He feigned a silent gasp. “Making out? I was only suggesting we spend the night looking at some stars. Ahem , eyes up here, sweetheart.”
My gaze snapped up from his pants. “Stars above. I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”
“I do,” he said with a raised brow and flawless timing.
I snorted, almost a guffaw. This was terrible. “Can we go now? Please?”
“One moment.” He disappeared into his pod, returning with his mask in hand. He looked good tonight. Dark-gray suit, black shoes, black tie, hair expertly coiffed. He was very well put together, and all I wanted to do was take him apart. But not tonight. Tonight, we were working.
Falling into an easy, comfortable silence, we made our way to the Argosian restaurant on deck fourteen where Garran had planned to take Kasa.
“Uh-oh,” Freddie said, pointing his chin at the pair. They sat on opposite sides of a square table, not speaking, barely making eye contact. “That’s not good.”
As we slid into a booth at the far end of the restaurant, I frowned. “Agreed. Let’s patch in. ”
Garran, I commed. Don’t be obvious. Don’t look?—
Despite my warning, the big man’s head whipped around while he knocked over the saltshaker, spilling his glass of water when he tried to right it. Unimpressed, Kasa scowled at him.
You startled me, he commed back, wiping his suit pants down with a napkin. But thank the Tilth you are here. I am floundering. We have already talked about the weather three times. And the weather is always the same on this ship.
Having joined in on the comm, Freddie muffled his laughter with a hand over his mouth.
Tell me what to say, Garran pleaded.
My brow ticked up. “This sounds like a job for you, Mr. Charming.”
Interlacing his fingers to crack his knuckles, Freddie gave me a wink and said, “I do love a challenge.”
While I wondered if I was the challenge he was referring to, Freddie said over the comm, Kasa looks lovely, Garran. Have you told her that?
Through our shared channel, we heard Garran say, “Kasa, you look beautiful tonight.”
That’s good. You could also add something specific. Something that applies only to her. Looking directly at me, Freddie said, Something like, I love what you’ve done with your hair.
Reaching up, I brushed my fingers over the small black clasp holding my bangs back. Yes, Garran, I commed, staring back at Freddie. That’s very good advice.
There wasn’t much to Kasa’s hairdo, a simple braid pulled tight and trailing down her back. But her smile after Garran’s compliment was luminous.
Have you asked her about her day? Freddie commed .
Garran’s shoulders deflated. No. What is wrong with me? I am terrible at this.
We all have to start somewhere, Freddie said. But when you do ask her, really listen. Give her your undivided attention. Don’t just think about what you want to say next.
That will not be a problem, Garran grumbled. I do not have anything to say next.
Then let her do the talking for a while, Freddie said. Try not to contradict or interrupt her. Say yes more than no. And don’t be afraid of a little silence. Be genuine, be kind, be curious. You’ve got this.
I couldn’t have torn my eyes from Freddie’s even if berserkers chose that exact moment to raid the ship. “That was fine advice,” I told him, my voice quiet, my heartbeat loud. “It was wonderful, really.”
His foot slid forward until his calf rested warmly against mine. And with a wry tilt to his lips and a sparkle in his eye, he said, “Sunastara, tell me about your day.”
If we’d been alone, if the restaurant had been empty, if we hadn’t been working, I might have joined him on his side of the booth. I might have taken his face between my hands. I might have kissed him, just a press of my lips against his. I might have wanted more, sliding into his lap, kissing his upper lip, his lower lip, slipping my tongue between them?—
“Sunny?” he asked. “Are you still with me?”
“Yes,” I said, my gaze locked on his lips, tracing the path of their upward curve. “One hundred percent.”
Dinner went off without a hitch. With Freddie’s expert guidance, the conversation between Garran and Kasa flowed like the Tranquisian auroras. As an unexpected but not unpleasant side effect, Freddie and I had time to talk. As coworkers, as friends, as something I couldn’t—or wouldn’t—define. Even if I didn’t know exactly what we were doing, I knew that it was nice.
It was nice, his warm laughter across the table while I recounted my stint as a kurot wrangler. Also nice, the way my cheeks got smile-sore when he told me about how he’d publicly berated a Mercurian teenager after catching him terrorizing some poor Ulaperians by shining flashlights into their highly sensitive eyes. It was all so comfortable, so sweet, so nice. And a small, hesitant voice inside me wondered if I could have him like this, to tell stories to and laugh with and feel nice with, and not only in secret. It wondered, while I inched my hand across the table, maybe to intertwine my fingers with his, if I was ready for something real.
We are leaving, Garran commed, and I pulled my hand back into my lap. To the masquerave. Will you come?
Of course, I replied while Freddie stared at the spot on the table where my hand had been. We are all yours tonight.
I slid my mask into place, following behind Freddie into the rave. After passing through a cloud of generated mist at the door, we were suddenly surrounded by swirling lights and swallowed by a sea of bodies covered in phosphorescent glow paint as, wall to wall, beings danced with their heads thrown back, tails tilted up, frizzy hair bouncing and long arms swaying to the driving beats of the trance music.
Ravers scattered while Garran growled his way onto the dance floor. When Kasa yanked him close, taking his ass in both hands and squeezing, I commed, Bravo, big guy, and laughed when he replied, I am so happy right now.
Clicking off the comm, I staked a claim to a table along the wall and scanned the crowd for Freddie. He’d split off to the bar to stand in an absurdly long line. Spotting him walking back toward me twenty minutes later, I frowned at his crooked black mask, the uncharacteristic stumble in his step.
“Here you go,” he shouted, passing me some sparkling martini-type beverage, red bubbles rising from its stem. He raised his into the air, half-empty. “They are delicious!”
I focused on his mussed hair, his lopsided grin, his tree-like sway. Then I looked down at my drink, at the tiny red pill dissolving rapidly at the bottom. “Oh no.”
“Not oh no ,” he said with a wobbly shake of his head. “Oh yes .”
When he tried to take another sip, I stood, taking his drink from his hand and looking inside. If there had been a tiny red pill in the bottom of his glass, it wasn’t there anymore. “Do you remember what this drink was called?”
“Hmm.” His lips twisted. “I think it was called follow your…something.”
“Bliss?” I guessed.
Freddie snapped his fingers. “That’s it.”
I groaned. That little red pill in my glass, the one that had been in his, was a party drug called Bliss. Apparently, they were serving fast-acting and extremely potent designer euphoria enhancers at the bar tonight. “I think you just took drugs.”
“Drugs?” His smile was practically incandescent. “I’ve never taken drugs before.”
I had to bite back my own smile when he tried to straighten his mask, leaving it even more crooked. “Oh, darling. You’ll be face-first in the punchbowl in half an hour.”
“I will?” He stepped toward me, brushing his fingertips down my arm. “But everything feels so good.”
“I’m sure it does,” I said, trying my hardest not to laugh. I failed when he dropped his head back, swaying in time with the kaleidoscopic fractal lights swirling into one another above us.
“I can feel the music,” he said to the ceiling. “It’s moving through me. It’s part of me.”
I was going to murder catering services in the morning.
His eyes found mine, slender blue-gray rings orbiting pitch-black pupils. “Drink yours. You need to feel this with me. It’s phenomenal.”
Not that I was averse to such things, but after ingesting a mind-altering drug he’d never taken before, he was going to need a babysitter. “Not tonight.”
He pouted, and it was so cute I almost changed my mind. Under more appropriate circumstances, taking Bliss with him might have been lovely. But I didn’t think he’d want this, to be altered like this when it hadn’t been his decision. To be out of control like this in public, where the guests might see him, where he might look unprofessional.
Garran? I commed. How’s it going?
Good. But Kasa says she wants to leave soon. What do I do?
That’s wonderful, big guy, Freddie chimed in brightly. Do you want to know what I think you should do? I think you should take her back to your pod, run a steamy shower, and?—
I muted Freddie from the conversation.
What has gotten into him? Garran asked .
About twenty credits’ worth of Bliss . I think he’s coming down with a cold. I need to take him home. What I needed to do was get him back to his pod before he started licking everyone in the ballroom.
You are leaving? There was a hint of panic in Garran’s voice.
I think we’d better, I said while Freddie reached into the air, playing with shapes that didn’t exist. Listen, you are crushing it. Have fun, be safe, and no matter what, make sure she comes first.
When I clicked off the comm and looked at Freddie again, I snorted. He was gone, his gaze swooping around the room, his mouth hanging open in utter awe.
“It’s all so beautiful,” he whispered, placing a hand over his heart. “So achingly beautiful. I love every single one of these beings. I feel like I know them, like I’ve always known them. Ever since I was a tiny baby. Maybe even before, when I was only stardust, I knew them. And I loved them.”
All right. Time to shut this down. Holding my hand up in front of his face, I asked, “Do you see this?”
“Yes,” he said. “It’s magnificent.”
I kept my hand raised, letting him run his fingers over the lines of my palm, up and down the peaks and valleys of my fingers. I remembered enjoying this sort of thing when I’d been in his condition.
Sliding his fingers between mine, he drew me to him. “Dance with me, Sunny.”
My heart stuttered.
Sunny.
In all the times we’d been close like this, touching like this, he’d never once used my real name. Because we didn’t do that. Because that was the line we’d drawn. So why was I melting at the hushed sound of it now? Why did I want him to say it again while we were close like this, so I could feel it through my chest pressed against his?
Reaching up, I straightened his mask, then I placed my hand on his shoulder. One dance would be okay, I told myself while his hand slid into the hollow of my back, while my body molded to his. One dance before I helped him back to his pod. One dance in the darkness, hiding behind our masks. One dance to imagine what my life might be like if I was able to be his, to meet up with him after work in our pods, to let him sway me side to side, holding me close while we talked about our days, our friends, our families. While we planned our nights, our futures, the way normal, healthy beings probably did. The way I might have done with someone like him before the accident changed me, made me into who I was now, broke me. One dance to imagine myself whole, all my shattered pieces put back together again, held in place by warm hands and strong arms. Just one dance.
As if reading my mind, he urged me even closer and said, “I wish we could always be like this. You take my breath away, Sunny. I think we were meant to meet. At the CAK. On this ship. There is a gravity between us.” He lowered his forehead to mine. “Can you feel it?”
The thing was, I could feel it, the irresistible force drawing me toward him. And in that moment, I realized how powerless I was to fight it. Because against every single one of my better judgments, against every ounce of self-preservation that remained in my body, when he leaned in, his head slowly tilting, I closed my eyes and held my breath, and I let him kiss me. Not only that, but in this very public place, surrounded by guests and coworkers and irresponsible bartenders, I kissed him back, slipping my fingers into his hair, sighing as his arms wrapped tightly around my waist.
And , oh, this was bliss. Kissing him like this, enveloped by his arms, no pharmaceutical enhancement was required. This was bliss. And maybe it was time I stopped fighting the gravity pulling us together. With the anniversary of Jonathan’s death only days away, maybe it was time to try, to take a chance, to let myself have the kind of life I knew my son would have wanted me to have.
But not tonight.
Tonight I needed to get him to bed before he started taking off his clothes.
Breaking the kiss, backing out of his arms, I spun him around, aimed him toward the door, and said, “Okay, Romeo. It’s time to go.”
It was like walking behind a child in a candy store as I ushered him from the ballroom to his pod. Everything was “fascinating” or “glorious.” That light fixture, this doorway, even the carpet. The carpet on deck twelve was evidently the most amazing thing since the invention of faster-than-light drives.
When we finally reached his pod, I took his hand and pressed it to his security panel, which he spent another thirty seconds marveling at.
“How are these even made?” he asked. “Who? Who is able to make these?” His voice dropped to a reverent whisper as he ran his fingertip over the panel. “Geniuses, that’s who.”
“To bed with you,” I instructed, finding a glass on his dresser and filling it with water from his sink .
“No.” His headshake was vigorous. “No bed. Shower. Let’s take a shower. Take a shower with me. Please? Please, please, please?”
His pleading would have been much more persuasive if he hadn’t already crawled onto his bed and started fluffing one of his pillows. “It’s so fluffy. How have I never noticed how fluffy my pillows are?”
Walking around his bed to place the back of my hand over his forehead, I said, “You’re hot.”
“You’re the one who’s hot,” he replied, reaching for my waist, gazing dreamily up at me. “And gorgeous. And beautiful. And why does my mouth feel like I’ve been chewing on sand?”
“Here.” I handed him the glass of water while he smacked his lips. “This will help.”
“Yes. Yes, you’re right. You’re so smart.” After releasing me to spin the glass of water in his hand for a moment, he guzzled it down.
I walked to his sink to fill the glass a second time, and when I turned back around, I squeezed it close to my chest. He’d already passed out, sprawled on his bed with his face smooshed into one of his fluffy pillows. With a contented sigh, I set the water down on his nightstand. Then I slipped off his shoes, his socks, his jacket, and while I undid his tie, he mumbled something into his pillow.
“What’s that, darling?”
“I love you,” he said softly, hugging his pillow tightly, his little pinky with its bitten-off tip pressing into the foam. “I love you so much.”
I knelt beside his bed, because that’s what a being did when their knees gave out, when their lungs stopped expanding, when their heart stopped beating.
With trembling fingers, I traced the arch of his eyebrow, the crooked line of his nose, the bow and curve of his full lips. I’d done this to him once before, when he’d fallen asleep during our night together on the CAK. I’d wanted to commit him to memory then, to make him real for as long as possible before we left each other forever. And now, against astounding odds, he was here. I didn’t need to remember him. I didn’t need to make him real. He was real. He was real and he was here and he loved me. Impossibly, he loved me.
And what was that deep ache in my chest? What was deep, contented sweetness wrapping itself around me, making my eyes sting? Was that love? Did I love him too?
The answer was right there, the words hovering on the tip of my tongue. I only had to say them. He wouldn’t know. He wouldn’t remember. I could say them now, believe them now, mean them now, and I’d still be safe in the morning. It could be like practice. A chance to see what might crack inside me if I did say them, or maybe what wouldn’t. Because what if I told him, and I was still whole afterward? What if, because of him, I was healing?
Gathering whatever courage I had left, my heart pounding, my pulse thrumming in my ears, my breathing shallow and ragged, I opened my mouth and?—
“Serena,” he whispered into the darkness. “Serena, I love you.”