Page 22 of Nolan
“Or as teenagers,” I reply wryly.
“Want to tell me about it?”
I hesitate. “That depends. How close are you?”
“Very. He’s my best friend.”
“Then—maybe some other time.” It doesn’t feel right to talk about Apollo that way with Nolan, not when I haven’t bothered raising the subject directly to Apollo myself. Not yet. “I hope it’s okay. He and I had some rough patches, but I have a feeling things are going to be better. We just need to hash it out.”
“I understand.” Nolan doesn’t press, much to my relief. “Apollo has been good to me. For a while, I thought he was the one I was constructed for.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, our programming is made in such a way where we always favor one person. Age, gender—specifics don’t really matter. It just happens that way.”
“Wow. Like . . . a soulmate?” I ask as we languidly amble down a path, our attention on the birds, soaking in the last remnants of summer warmth as autumn begins to float on the wind.
“Kind of. Soulmate is a bit strong. It’s hard to describe. It can be more fluid. It doesn’t always have a romantic undertone like that. For example, a bionic assistant might be given to a young mother with an infant. It’s hard to say who the android will bond with—the mother or the infant. It can take the form of any dynamic you can think of.”
“Including fraternal, like with my brother.”
“Exactly. So when I saw Apollo for the first time, my gratification drive clung pretty tightly to him. It was overwhelming. I remember when I told him about it, he thought I was insane.”
“But it doesn’t stick?”
“No, not always. There are different levels to it. If I were a bionic assistant in a home, I might gravitate toward the person in charge of keeping it. That can change, obviously, as their situation changes. From what I understand, the drive is more fluid in that way. But only sometimes. Other times, it can be more concrete.”
I can’t help but ask the question I’ve been sitting on since he first introduced me to the concept, and now I just have to know. “And what’s your grat drive like around me?”
“Around you?” Nolan glances down at me, meeting my gaze with a faint smile. “You really want to know?”
Steadying myself, I nibble on my lip and nod.
He leans down and whispers in my ear. “Well, it’s been going crazy around you too.” His deep voice rumbles, causing me to shiver in delight. “And I’m trying to figure out what that means.”
Going crazy? Around me? Suddenly, I can’t feel my legs, and I nearly trip over a stick laying in my way. Nolan catches me effortlessly. “Easy, girl, don’t hurt yourself.” He laughs. “I know I’m a first responder, but I’d rather not hunt down a first-aid kit.”
Any embarrassment I might’ve felt about tripping fades away, because his hands are on my arms, keeping me upright. His touch is so warm, and I want him to pull me in, to make my skin prickle when he speaks to me.
This feels so fast. I’ve never let myself get this caught up about a man before. I thought I was reasonable and cautious, but not with Nolan. Whatever walls I thought I’d constructed, he’s broken through them with his voice, his bright smile, the way he jokes with me.
If I’m not careful, I’m going to fall before I even know where I am. And then the first-aid kit is going to be the least of my worries.
But how can I pull back when I look into his eyes? And that gaze of his, right there, are what give me pause. “Your eyes are different. They were different back in the store too. Aren’t they meant to be white?”
He regards me carefully. “It’s for your protection. Not everyone is friendly to droids, especially at night.”
“That’s too bad,” I lament. “I like how they look when they’re natural.”
His irises glow with the faint hint of a backlight, much to my delight. When I smile, he grins back at me triumphantly, and I memorize those dimples in his cheeks. I can hardly remember to breathe when he’s this close.
His gaze searches mine. “Mia?”
“Sorry, it’s just—” I’ve been staring and quiet for too long, and that familiar heat between my legs has returned. “Never had a guy tell me he’s a little crazy about me.”
“You haven’t met many smart guys, then.” Victory is alight in his face. He grins and leans down a little, playful. “But I’ll happily be the first—when it’s time. The gratification drive is the one who’s insane. I’m trying to dial him in.” His hands slide down my arms to clasp mine. Then our walk continues, and I’m going where he leads in a dreamlike state I don’t want to wake up from.
Whenever he talks about this drive, I can’t help imagine this tiny little version of Nolan, maybe with a high, squeaky voice and a lot of energy, trying to talk with him like an angel or a devil on his shoulder, with its own mind and ideas, and it’s absolutely adorable.
