Attention: ALL
Subject: Evening Menu
Entrees: Sweet potato casserole, roast casava
Sides: Cinnamon apples, ginger carrots
*Dessert* Honey cake
It was only lunch time, but I found my way to sleep.
I slept in a ball, buried under my pillows.
I slept in my parents’ room, on top of their covers, with my mom’s robe as a blanket.
I stole everyone’s pillows, then the Bentley jacket, and slept with them piled onto the floor next to the couch.
And I didn’t know if any of it was “good” sleep, but I was thirsty enough for it that I called it “good,” and my brain went cemetery-quiet and cotton ball soft. Dreams slithered toward me each time I repositioned, though I chased them away, preferring the dark, silent nothing.
When I finally woke, I discovered someone had carried me to my bed and tucked me in. The Bentley jacket was buttoned around a pillow under my head.
“Your parents are worried sick about you,” Andrek said. He sat guard at my open door, and the dim light from the living room puddled in his lap.
I groaned and yanked the covers over my face, not remotely ready to process anything he had to say.
Not about my parents. Not about Viveca.
And never ever about his old army’s invading fleet and the end of the world.
“Lane.” He came closer and through some silent boyfriend magic managed to slip under the blanket.
I rolled away. Pretended to snore.
His arm snaked around my waist. “I’ll tell them, if you want me to,” he offered. “So you don’t have to hold it anymore. It can’t make that much of a difference now, honestly.”
Sometimes he got me so well but expecting me to say I “want him to” do something risky for my sake only was peak awfulness and a terrible responsibility to put on me. I pretend-snored louder.
He wanted me to say it was okay not to tell my parents. That I’d be fine holding his secret till he was ready.
I didn’t know if I could promise that either.
I wanted him to tell me not to worry, that the RC didn’t usually blow through with weapons hot, because Brand was more of a businessman than a general. That it was probably not the end of the world or the trust. That we were safe to worry about other, smaller things, and how about some yummy dinner.
He didn’t say any of that, and neither did I. He molded himself around me till I felt the rapid thump of his heartbeat against my back, the gentle kiss he placed on my hair.
He smelled like fear.
We laid there for what felt like centuries, curled like seashells around his racing heart. At some point, my parents came through, and they closed my door. I wished time would stop now, here, before anything else bad had a chance to happen.
He sighed onto my neck, likely thinking the same thought. “I’m so sorry.”
And though it wasn’t the conversation we needed to have, not even the beginning, I twisted in his arms and found his mouth with mine, pulling his heat into me. Our tongues met instead of words, and we shed our clothes like they were made of paper, not zippers and fabric and snappy elastics.
His skin on mine was liquid smooth, and the friction between us a familiar soup of feelings. When we broke apart, spent, I was smiling despite my mood and the hurricane of worry waiting impatiently for me to acknowledge it.
We talked then, trading whispers that were practically kisses, with the blankets draping over us like a tent. He was so, so sorry. For not coming home or answering messages.
It wasn’t what Viveca thought, that our boys were holed up in some romance bubble. They were stranded in Dome 3 because security shut down the tram after getting the news of the launch. Maybe there was some romance while they waited, but due in no small part to being scared out of their minds.
And he was sorry he threw Viveca’s name forward without good enough reason, especially considering how important she was to Joule. And maybe me. “It was heartless and thoughtless, and I’m an asshole for that. I panicked.”
But he was terrified, and cornered, and he didn’t know what else to do. I punished him with tickles until we both felt better.
“Assuming we survive,” I said, once I was able to speak above a whisper and ready to leave our nest, “we need to work out our schedule with Joule. And such.”
“And such?”
“I mean, I think I should get extra sleepovers because of seniority,” I teased.
Andrek tackled me and kissed a circle around my belly button, punctuating with, “Is. That. What. You. Think.”
“Maybe,” I said, relishing the heat of his hands and wondering if it was worth it to get dressed again. We could decide to spend the rest of our lives in this tiny room. There were definitely worse ways to go.
“This isn’t about Viveca?”
“Why? Do you plan on turning her in for something else?” I fetched clean clothes from my single drawer and stretched them over me. He cleared his throat, and I tossed him his own, which had found their way in front of the door and under the bed.
“I guess I don’t get it,” Andrek said, his voice layered with tension. He dressed slowly, and I wondered how long it’d been since he slept. “I mean, yes, she’s banging hot, but I thought you hated her for being snobby.”
“I thought so too,” I admitted carefully, because there was still so much in the air, things I didn’t know. Things I wanted to learn if there was enough time. “But that’s not who she is.”
Don’t think about why, don’t think about why.
Walls went up. Reality stepped back.
He started lacing his boots. “Can I ask what changed? Last night she seemed to knock you off kilter.”
“You’ve officially spent too much time with my parents.” I gurgled a laugh, grateful that I could. It wasn’t like us to lie or hide stuff from each other, but I didn’t know what to say yet, or what was mine yet to say. “I’m not sure what’s changed, except that it is. Changing.”
“But breakfast is ours, right?” He stood and tested his foot. “Barring unforeseen security emergencies?”
“Ours,” I said, pretending any of us could ever know anything for certain while there were monsters coming from the sky. “Always.”
Andrek and I took dinner in Chef’s office rather than the cafeteria. A simple meal of casserole, spiced apples, and bright orange carrot sticks. The five-year-old inside me couldn’t have been more comforted unless I also had a handful of balloons.
It was easier to keep the walls up if I didn’t talk, and Andrek didn’t push. I’d have to talk soon anyway when Viveca found me.
I’d learned something important, I thought, about Viveca. Every time I’d tried to “prepare” myself to talk to her, it went horribly awry, so it was best not to prepare. This way I’d be flexible enough to keep myself steady when she inevitably surprised me. I didn’t decide what to tell her about the fleet or Joule or what I’d overheard. All that, I’d figure out after she told me whatever she was bursting to in the sauna.
I was so glad I got a little rest. Now all I needed was a real shower then to lie in some soft, green grass. Once I made it to the courtyard to wait for Viveca, I conked out almost immediately, and I dreamed of home.
Not Faraday’s flat or her assassination.
Home.
I was lying on a blanket next to my beautiful big sister. We were cloud watching, but the patch of sky we could see was so tiny and far away, crowded by whispering green trees. A rain cloud had passed below the clearing, allowing us to listen to its patter without getting wet.
My hands were small and fat beside hers as we pointed.
Mom painted while Dad played guitar, and the bubbling creek spilling into the lake in the distance was his drum. The air was linden thick and April wet, and rainbow-colored pebbles dotted the low grass like shining candies.
“I’m hungry,” I squeaked.
Faraday’s laugh rippled over me. “You’re always hungry.”
“I’m not!” I argued, tickling her waist with my bare feet. “Can we swim yet?”
“Still too cold,” Mom said. “Soon.”
“How soon?”
“A month, at least.” Dad’s fingers thumped the strings in a looping rhythm.
I snuggled into Faraday’s side, certain that a month was a lifetime and that I couldn’t possibly wait that long. I held my eyes shut for as long as I could when I woke, keeping my breath shallow, savoring the humidity of sleep.
I’d been happy since that afternoon. Many times.
But never like that.
I wondered if there was enough time left to try.