Page 31 of Adrift!
He propped his hip against the counter, his lean body relaxing as if they had all the time in the universe. “You already have, just by being you, being here.”
Her hands stilled on the dispenser controls. “Ikaryo…”
“Too metaphysical?” He backed away to settle onto the room’s small couch, stretching his long legs out in front of him though his half-moon eyes stayed focused on her. “We can talk about air quality filtration instead.”
“Oh no.” She laughed despite the flutter in her chest at his attention and forced herself to study the in-room offerings. “It took forever to get the algae sludge out of my hair.” Suddenly inspired, she tapped in a request to the dispenser. “Tell me something about your experiences in space that isn’t…” While the machine whirred, she gestured vaguely at the viewport where stars she couldn’t see hung in the darkness. “Quite so awful.”
His eyes spun as she approached with two glasses. “Would you believe me if I told you…I don’t think this is so awful?”
“Really?” Curling one foot under her, she sank to the couch, careful not to flash him, although it was a close thing.
“Truly.” Then he looked down at the beverage she held out and repeated her dismayed, “Oh no.”
She laughed. “You said you wanted something you’ve never had before. Well, maybe this is going to be my signature drink.”
“Why is it so…green?”
“Chef must’ve collected the algae we cleared. It’s offered through the dispenser already.”
Despite his doubtful expression, when she waggled the glass at him, he accepted, his fingertips just brushing hers in the exchange.
At the brief contact, a spark shot across his augmented knuckles, and they both froze.
She gulped. “The resonark…”
He stared over the glass. “No. I think…it was just you.”
Her breath caught, and she found herself wondering how those sparks might spread along her own nerve endings…
He finally blinked, breaking the moment. “You first.”
She held up her glass of green. “Together,” she challenged.
After a mutual clink—although it took him a moment to realize that was what she wanted—they both hesitated. Then they both snickered. Then they both took a sip.
“Not bad,” he declared.
She sputtered at the pungent pong. “It’s so,soawful!”
“It just needs balancing. Wait here.” He plucked the glass from her dismay-slackened hand. A mere moment at the dispenser, and he returned with two taller glasses that looked less like antifreeze. “Some substances are better as seasoning than as core flavoring.”
He watched intently while she took a tentative sip.
“Okay, now thatisgood.” She grinned at him. “I’ve no doubt you could turn all the bitters and sours to something sweet.”
“No. Like I said, it takes a balance.” He clinked his glass against hers again. “Andwemake a good team.”
Amusement fading, she took another sip, realized her hand was shaking, and let it fall with a grimace. “Good enough to save the ship with a song?”
“Yes.” He set aside his glass too and shifted to face her fully. “Or maybe no. Maybe it will be like my homeworld that couldn’t be saved. But we’ll sing anyway.”
When she swallowed hard, the taste of the garden lodged in the back of her throat, sweet and earthy both, with a lingering hint of salty tears. She’d made so many mistakes, been wrong about so much. “What if we…can’t?”
“We will. Together.”
From the time she’d left home, she’d always been a solo act. Maybe it was time to change that.
She reached out to him, as she had with the glasses, but with nothing in her hand this time. He echoed the gesture, and instead of the chime of glass, there was only the tiny, silent explosion of a spark rising between their joined hands.
