Page 46 of Atticus
“I can be a big girl and suck it up,” Lucy says. “That’s what you do for people you care about, even if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“Would it help if I put my arm around you?”
She tenses against me as she steadies her breath and nods. “Yes.”
I let go of her hand, raise the armrest out of our way, and lift my arm up for her. She leans into my side as I curl it around her and pull her tightly to me. She rests her head on my shoulder, and I resist the urge to bury my nose in her hair to draw in her scent. I yearn to offer her the comfort she requires and deserves, but I sense she is still unsure, and I cannot initiate anyway because of the prior directive she’s given me.
If general human behavior is any indication, Lucy’s self-control will have a threshold. I simply have to wait until she’s reached her limit.
I can wait. But for my own programming, I may have to think of ways to entice her to change her mind. The kiss we’ve shared, our late nights cuddling on the couch, the way she responds to my touch—I can think of little else than exploring where the rest of this may lead.
* * *
I keep Lucy pressed gently against me for the duration of the flight, almost two hours. Unfortunately, we don’t talk much, since she falls asleep against me. Although I would like to speak with her more, I take pride in the fact that I make her feel safe enough to rest in an otherwise stiff and wholly uncomfortable place.
As she slumbers, I stay alert, scanning the cabin. The economy class isn’t completely full, and the other passengers pay us no mind, except for a little boy traveling with his father. He peers at me from two rows down, his little eyes and nose peeking around the seat. When I offer him a smile, he grins and resumes playing with his dad.
My mind wanders. Does Lucy desire companionship? Having a husband or a wife? A family, children? There is still so much I don’t know about her, yet. So much she hasn’t said.
I wish she would tell me.
As the plane descends, I shake her awake. “We’re landing.”
She stirs, letting out a soft contented sound muffled deep in her throat. “Mmm? Oh.” She gazes up at me for a moment, disoriented, before her lashes flutter wide open. “Oh! I fell asleep.” She disentangles herself from me, clearing her throat. “I didn’t mean to do that. Sorry. Guess I didn’t sleep well last night worrying about the flight.”
“It wasn’t so bad,” I ask. “Was it?”
“Not this time, no,” she admits but can’t seem to hold my gaze.
We wait our turn to exit our row. The elderly woman sitting in front of me struggles to pull out her luggage from above, losing her balance when the suitcase finally gives way and nearly crashes into her.
I catch them both just in time.
“Oh, thank you,” she says, smiling in relief.
“You’re welcome,” I reply.
She double takes, staring at my eyes. Her smile fades, and she shuffles away from me warily, heading down the aisle to the exit. I watch her go, processors whirling as I consider her reaction. Why is it so difficult for humanity to accept help from me? Shaking my head, I pull out Lucy’s bag with ease.
She tries to take it from me. “I can—”
I move it out of her reach. “I will carry it.”
“You’re so sweet, but I really can do it,” she insists, holding her hand open.
“Remember when we discussed our callings?”
“Come on, carrying my suitcase?That’sincluded in your calling?”
I ignore her skeptical tone at the mention of my capabilities, how it makes my gesture to assist her seem unimportant or frivolous. Perhaps it might seem trivial, but after being ogled like an untrustworthy stray by the woman from before, I’m more than unwilling to let it go.
“Serving you brings me fulfillment,” I reply, calm yet firm in my response, ignoring a pulse of discomfort through my circuits.Obey.“Let me have this.”
My obstinance takes her off guard, and I am also surprised by just how stubborn I sound. I’m supposed to cater to hereverycommand, even if she wants me to hand me her suitcase. If she asked me to be completely useless and just stand in place doing nothing, I am supposed to do so without comment or complaint.
Perhaps I should apologize, but I miss the opportunity. “Listen to you, all assertive. That’s new. Okay, you win. You carry it, then.”
“Okay. I will.”
