Page 80 of Ezra
A barbecue. With the entire Artificial Crime Unit of the NCPD, the people who’ve had to clean up the messes of Humanity First’s protests when they’ve turned into riots, among other things. They might hate me the moment they hear the name Carson.
I ignore the nervous flutter in my stomach. I wasn’t the one engaging in criminal mischief personally. But to some, that may not matter. Still, I can handle that, right? Except the Washingtons are Ezra’s family, which is terrifying. What if they don’t like me?
It’s a little fast. But something tells meslowisn’t exactly Ezra’s forte, especially if he’s broken things off with women whoweren’t serious enough for his liking. I have to remember he isn’t like other men. He isn’t flighty; he doesn’t scare easy.
He’s like me. He knows what he wants.
And he’s met my parents, as awkward as that was. What does it matter if we don’t do things the slow and steady way? Could we have ever hoped to, considering how we met? Ezra’s entire job description is practically a rollercoaster of danger, surviving internal politics and corporate intrigue.
Yeah. Slow isn’t in the cards. Time to throw caution to the wind and dive in.
“Okay, a barbecue. Sounds fun. What should I wear?”
“It’s an informal affair, so nothing fancy,” Ezra replies. “I’ll pick you up.”
“Do you want to stay a little while?” I ask. “No funny business or anything. We could just talk?—”
Ezra pulls me close, lips crushing against mine and stealing my very breath from me. When he moves away, his gaze is on me, his lips parted. “If only I could,” he rasps, as though it’s taking every ounce of restraint to keep himself back. “But I need to return home. The Washingtons are waiting for me.”
I think I may have forgotten how to walk. “You’re going to have to stop kissing me like that before I trip and kill myself.”
“Not possible,” he replies, touching my face. “I’d never let you fall.”
I believe him.
As I see him out, my feet are light on the ground. There’s hope in Ezra’s face for the briefest moment when he tells me good night.
When he’s gone, I grapple with the dread that I’ll have to be upfront with my parents at some point if this goes anywhere—and the knowledge that if given the chance, I think I might have already made my choice.
My parents might freak out. Humanity First will either disown me or change to accommodate me.
I don’t care.
All I want is to see Ezra again.
[ 6 ]
Ezra
You’d think I learned my lesson about taking risks like this.
I’m programmed to be adaptable. It’s humans who often make the same mistakes repeatedly without growth or wisdom. I told myself I wouldn’t get into a situation like this again—getting attached to a woman, only to discover our personalities clash, or our careers, or the things that drive us to do what we do. I have my family, the ones I see at home every night once a long day of work is over. On those nights where we have no choice but to work through until morning, they’re always there waiting for us. I should’ve learned to be content with that.
But Katrina is different from all those other times I was curious, interested, willing to see where things could lead, only to be lured into disappointment time and again. Or at least, that’s what my gratification drive would like me to think, with how it latched on to her so insistently. Spending the last few weeks without her company have been beyond difficult, nearly unbearable. They’ve made me curt and more irritable than usual. It hasn’t made any logical sense to me. Mysystems all work properly. I’m not malfunctioning. I shouldn’t be experiencing such an overwhelmingly strong connection like this.
It’s not just the emotional connection between us. If androids could be addicts, that’s what I’d be. I relish the image of her body, the sounds she made that evening when I fingered her. I return to that night time and again. The feel of her pussy around my fingers, the taste of her kiss, all live rent-free in my memory drives. It’s all created this one undeniable need to be a part of her life, and my gratification drive refuses to let her go.
I tried to stay away. Perhaps I should have. The fact remains that New Carnegie isn’t her future, and it’s the only beginning and end I’ve got.
But she pursued me, and that’s got my attention something fierce, as Deion would say. It’s not the “let’s hook up” kind of chase either. She hasn’t been able to get me out of her head, by her own admittance. Hearing that is what has me second-guessing everything. Perhaps distance won’t be the obstacle I think it is. Perhaps?—
No. I can’t think that far into the future. It’s gotten me into trouble before. I need to focus on something else.
It’s eleven a.m.—lunchtime. Driving in an unmarked cruiser through the city with Deion in the early afternoon to his favorite diner takes me through some of my older memories, stored away in my BioNex cloud bank: when we used to work beats, long twelve-hour shifts, and respond to artificial crimes ourselves before the ACU grew into what it is today. We earned our reputation with hard work and late nights. We were even sent to England, France, and Ireland. Not exactly something either of us expected.
In the three years since my activation, I’ve never encountered a more loyal, kind-hearted, and intelligent human being. Deion treats me with more respect, courtesy, and care than any otherperson. In my first year, he taught me what it meant to be human—to behave, think, and feel like one.
As usual, Deion’s spirits are high. I assume he’s looking forward to an evening of good food and good company. He taps his fingers on the driving wheel. “Of all the women in the world, you just had to home in on Katrina Carson like a fucking missile, huh?”
