I’m waiting outside of the trav-tube on my floor like I told Renner I would be, but I’m regretting accepting his challenge. My fingers grip my arms tightly, and I have to mentally tell myself to relax just as the door whispers open.
He’s wearing his black, polyweave pants and a thin white shirt, not his crew onesuit, and his grin is like a slice of a waxing Cerlia moon.
“What are we doing?”
His replying silence tells me I won’t find out anything until he wants me to.
“Can you at least tell me where we’re going?” Surely he can answer that.
“First things first. You’re going to need to change.”
I look down at my flowy, magenta skirt grazing the floor and the tight, black top that sits just above the skirt’s high waist. “What’s wrong with this?”
“Trust me. You need to change. Come on.”
His fingers brush the narrow window of bare skin as he maneuvers us down the hall. My body reacts in a flood of heat, and I move faster to escape the warmth of his touch. Palm to the door, and my berth slides open.
“Home sweet home.” Renner steps into my closet before I can stop him. “Let’s see…not this, or this, or—” He turns around, holding up a see-through dress I wear over a bodysuit. “What do we have here?” His eyebrows waggle.
“Put that back.”
“I’m just saying.”
“Put it back, Renner.”
“You’re no fun.” He pouts before turning back to the rack of my everyday clothes. “This will do nicely.”
I catch the tossed pair of leggings, close-fitting black top, and sports bra. He’s apparently thought of everything. Before he has a chance to step out of the closet, I close the door with a devilish smirk.
“Hey!” His voice is muffled.
“You come out when I’m changed.”
“Fine.”
I force the smile from my face. Yes, he’s got a certain type of charisma that’s becoming harder and harder to ignore, but he’s a liar and on the run—someone I have to keep at a distance.
When I open the door, I catch him lounging on the floor, his long legs taking up all the space. He takes up all the space with his minty scent and broad shoulders surrounded by my sparkling gowns and strappy heels. The armor he wants me to deliver is piled next to him, but I haven’t found a way to get it down to his deck without suspicion. I’m glad when he doesn’t ask again.
“Will you tell me what we’re doing now?”
He scans my body. It’s evaluative and shouldn’t bother me, but my cheeks disagree, flushing hot.
“You need boots.” Thankfully, he doesn’t notice my discomfort and turns back to the closet.
“Boots?”
“These’ll do perfectly.” He hands me a pair of ankle-high boots with a low heel like he’s my personal stylist.
“I had no idea you were such a fashionista.”
“Growing up with three sisters, I was forced into a lot of things no strapping young man should be.” His words are playful, but there’s distance to them. “Now, hair up, and we’re ready to go.”
“Up?”
“In a,” he fumbles for the word, “bun thing.”
I so want to comment on this, but it’s not worth the effort. Instead, I quickly twist my hair up and then turn to him again, hands on hips. “Now?”
“Perfect.” His lips twist, those star-cursed dimples showing, but the next instant, he turns for the door.
We head down the hall, away from the trav-tube. I don’t spend much time on this floor outside of my room or Freyda’s, though I know Delmar, Roper, and the captain all have berths here too.
When we stop at frosted glass doors, his grin could split the Verse in half. It’s a gym space usually reserved for top level crewmembers. I can’t even remember the last time I was in here.
“We’re…working out?”
He inclines his head, and I touch the door, using my bio-access to gain entry.
“Not exactly,” he says. “We’re sparring.”
My abs tighten. Sparring? As in, fighting? “No, we’re not.”
“Come on, Le’è, afraid of a little hand-to-hand combat with me? Do my muscles scare you?”
He flexes, and I can’t help but admire the way his t-shirt goes taut, the action freezing everything inside me before the ice melts to molten lava. Stars, he’s…fit.
I give myself a mental shake.
“No. I’m just afraid I might injure you.” I give him a pitying look. I’ll have to play this carefully, walking the line between holding my own and showing off the training I have. He can’t see past the façade I must live behind.
“I think I can manage.” His laugh is golden sunlight.
He walks to the back of the gym, past equipment, climbing walls, and weights to where there are thick mats laid out for an occasion such as this. How did he know the gym was here? Then I recall his comment about the ship’s schematic. He knows more than he should—I have to remember that.
“Have you ever sparred before?”
I look out through the sio-glass while I answer, hoping to mask the lie. “I might have picked up a thing or two on some planets we’ve stopped at.” When I look back, I wish I hadn’t.
He faces away from me as he pulls off his shirt. Long, corded muscles wrap around his torso and back and, when he turns, his well-defined chest and abs are on full display. It’s the body of a disciplined soldier worked into submission and strength through cycles of training.
Maybe I am a little afraid of his muscles.
“There a problem?” His amusement says he knows I’m uncomfortable, but I won’t give him the satisfaction.
“No.” The word scrapes out, and I force my gaze to meet his.
His smile—dimples and all—is the only reply. We stand like that, tension flooding the space between us, and I wonder what he’s thinking. With a blink, he turns toward the mats.
“What style have you studied?”
“A little of this, a little of that.” I shrug and turn in a circle as if taking in the space, but it’s really so I won’t have to see the bare planes of his chest and arms as he flexes them back and forth in quick, warmup stretches.
“What happens if I do this?” In an instant, he’s behind me, voice low in my ear as his arm wraps around my neck. It’s a band of steel trapping me against him while his other hand grips my loose one.
I react without thinking. My free hand goes to pull at his arm around my neck as my opposite elbow nails his ribcage. He lets go to enforce his grip around my neck, but I’m ready. I reach up defensively in a punch directed at his perfect nose, but he pulls back. Instead, I yank his thumb out. At the same time, I rotate my head, get my chin below his forearm, and duck.
He’s bigger than me, and I can feel his barely contained strength, but I know what to do next. I aim a strike at his most vulnerable anatomy but get his thigh instead. His laugh is the only response.
“Not so fast, Le’è.” He increases the pressure around my neck, but my chin keeps my airway open.
I try to push him off balance with my left leg, but he only mimics me, so I change course. Alternating my weight, I swing my right leg forward. My head slips through his arm, and I yank it out behind him, hyper-extending it. The next instant, my knee connects with his abdomen.
He coughs, but it turns into a laugh as he throws up his hands in surrender. “I’m impressed.” He rubs at the spot on his flat stomach, and I readjust my hair. I hope I didn’t give too much away, but you can’t stop instinct.
“You certainly learned a thing or two. Now, what about this?” He comes at me again, a spark of flint in his expression. He’s enjoying this way too much.
Our sparring increases. I don’t give in, but I also don’t push to the full extent of my abilities. We’re both holding back. It’s a fine line we’re dancing, like Freyda on her tightrope. While I’d never admit it to Renner, I’m having fun. I haven’t sparred with anyone in a long time, and he’s good. Scary good.
Twenty minutes later, drenched in sweat and stripped down to my workout bra and leggings, I find myself lying flat on my back. He kicked my legs out from under me, yet again, and my muscles are fatigued with the effort.
Still, I can’t help myself. I twist as he’s moving for his water. My right foot shoots out, connecting with one leg while the other twists and pulls. It’s a perfect tangle of limbs, and he trips. He tries to balance himself but only ends up tipping forward more. Then he’s crashing on top of me.
“Ooomph.” My hands desperately push at him. “Get off.”
I feel a deep rumble come from his chest and realize he’s laughing. His muscled deadweight pins me, and I can’t help but join him. Our bodies shake with amusement, and I suddenly feel every inch of his bare skin where it touches every inch of mine.
Propping himself up on an elbow, he turns, and his eyes meet mine, spots of sun flashing in a well of brown. My gaze traces his freckles as they dot his brow, his cheeks, his chin. It lands on his lips. I can’t help the memory of our kiss. The kiss that never should have happened.
Like he’s reading my thoughts, his laughter dissipates, and his look deepens. I want to reach over and touch his hair, run my fingers through it, but I’m trapped beneath him.
Our breath commingles, and I forget. I forget the weight of responsibility on my shoulders. I forget the lies he’s told. I nearly forget who I am. And I let myself, because a large part of me wants to be found in this moment. By golden eyes and rounded lips. In strong arms and laughter. In—
The door slides open, and reality slams into me like a force-wave.
Renner stands the next instant, hand extended. “I think we’re done for the day.”
My heart pounds, and I take in the two crew members who’ve just entered. They’re top-staff and dressed in workout gear. A needed distraction.
I push to my feet without his help, every muscle shaking from the exertion of our sparring. I’m slipping fast, falling headlong into the golden eyes of a boy who would just as soon trick me as he would care for me. I can’t let these distracting thoughts—this distracting boy—in. My duty prevents it. My honor forbids it.
“Do you know what dock you’re getting off at?”
He pulls his shirt down and turns. “What?”
“What dock? I mean, you’re not staying with Phenomena forever.”
Shock and hurt flash before he can hide it. Good, Talie, press in to that.
“I hadn’t thought about it,” he admits.
“Well, you should.” I tug my shirt back on. “I need to know when I can stop incorporating you into my act.”
“I’ll get better.” It’s not an answer, but it tells me more than I think he intended.
I force myself to turn away, heading for the double doors. I don’t want the memory of the disappointment I hear in his voice.
“It won’t matter anyway. They’ll forget you when you’re gone.” I walk out. The cool burst of air from the hallway sends a chill up my spine even as guilt twists inside me.
I can’t afford to let Renner in. I can’t afford to be distracted by thoughts of kissing him—an utter mistake.
And I absolutely can’t afford him discovering who I truly am.