Page 60 of Even Robots Die
He walks back to me without a word and stops against the doorframe again.
Is it hot in there? Or maybe it’s just me?
“Did you change your mind and decide you want to go to bed instead?” he asks as he passes his left hand through his hair.
Fuck. This is hot.
Why does he make it sound like much more than just going to sleep?
This man shouldn’t be authorized to say things like that. It sets my body on fire and I don’t think I’ll be able to make that fire die.
“I can tuck you in if you need,” he tells me with what I would call mock seriousness, even if I’m not even sure it’s in the spectrum of what he can currently experience.
At least it has the desired effect.
No, I don’t want him to tuck me in. I don’t trust myself. If he gets this close, I might try to bring him to bed with me, and we all know how that ends.
Me being rejected and looking like an idiot.
And I still have to work here for days with all the coding I still have to do.
I’d have to stay hidden for the rest of those days and seeing as he was waiting at my door just minutes ago, I don’t think he would leave me in peace.
We walk along the corridor in silence. We pass the entrance of the castle and cross to the front square. I can feel the uneven ground under my bare feet, and for the first time tonight, I feel grounded.
A sigh escapes me.
“I could almost believe you now,” Brice finally breaks the silence.
I’m feeling too good to answer his barb. I know what he means, but my lack of answer must make him believe I forgot what I said earlier because he feels the need to add something.
“That you wanted to stretch your legs.”
“I know what you meant,” I answer him as I tip my head to the sky. The sun isn’t up anymore, but some of its light is still painting the sky in orange and pink streaks and the moon has already taken the sun’s place. I can’t see any stars yet, either. “I just chose not to answer you.”
Brice chuckles but doesn’t comment any more. He sits on the bench right next to where I’m standing.
“Couldn’t you find a bench any closer?” I ask, trying to emulate the bored tone he’s always using.
I’m not bored. I can feel the heat coming off of his body even at the distance he’s sitting, and it’s already unsettling.
I close my eyes and let the light breeze move my hair around my face. It only lasts a second though, because the heat at my side becomes burning hot and I open my eyes to see that Brice moved down the bench to be closer to me.
“Dude, don’t tell me sarcasm isn’t part of your panel of knowledge. That’s not an emotion, you can’t tell me that’s not something you can’t comprehend,” I tell him and I want it to be vehement, but I can still feel the wind against my skin and it feels so good in contrast to his heat, and all the heat of my voice dies down.
“Don’t ‘dude’ me,” Brice tells me with his eyes darkening. “I’m not your friend.”
“Don’t think I don’t know that,” I mumble to myself, knowing perfectly well that he will hear me. “Do you prefer I call you ‘my jailer’? Or maybe ‘boss’?” I ask him, and this time a bit of my snark finally slips through my voice.
“‘Boss’ has a nice ring to it,” Brice says and I can see his smile stretch on his right cheek into a wicked smirk.
What have I done?
37
Florentine
I’m starting to think he’s doing things on purpose, because he has barely finished his sentence when he moves down the bench again. He’s now at the end of it and less than thirty centimeters from me.
