Ari spun on his heel, prodding Orin’s wide chest with one indignant finger, gaining ground as his companion backed up a step. “Envy. Green is representative of envy. You ignorant buffoon. Envy and jealousy are two entirely separate concepts. You are trying to imply that I am jealous. Which, I can assure you, I am not.”
Orin nodded, stepping back another pace, arms hanging at his sides, chest still heaving with exertion.
Ari’s fingers curled into fists, planted firmly on his narrow hips, arms akimbo.
“It would be ridiculous for me to be jealous! Whatever ill-advised nonsense you engage in during your spare time is none of my affair. Your excessive flirting and promiscuous behavior at every. Single. Port we dock in has absolutely no effect on me whatsoever! Just because we have engaged in some amorous activities does not mean that I have any right or inclination to object when you attempt to engage in those same activities with the first pox-eyed, rusted floozy you encounter!”
He was forced to pause for breath, surprised to find an unpleasant pressure in his chest which appeared to have nothing to do with running out of breath. His eyes pricked with tears, face flushed with heat. A rush of humiliation washed over him, leaving him shaking and exposed in the middle of the filthy dock.
Orin had lifted his head, surprise spreading across his face as Aristotle’s voice continued to rise. The left corner of his lips threatened to lift, dimple winking in and out of view.
“You know I wasn’t interested in getting that singer on his back. I was just coming on all friendly to try and figure out if he could give us coordinates for an exit point. And I got em, baby. We’re all set to head out whenever you’re ready.”
Ari couldn’t withstand his hopeful expression, all the bravado from his tirade deflating at once. He suddenly felt very small.
“Good. That’s good. I— Thank you. I fear I owe you an apology. It shouldn’t matter if you had been courting that singer anyway.”
He ignored Orin’s brows flying up as he mouthed courting in exaggerated disbelief.
“You are, of course, free to pursue a relationship, physical or otherwise, with whomever you wish. I apologize. I should not have reacted in such an inflammatory manner. It is perfectly understandable. I would not be surprised if my fumbling attentions have been insufficient to satisfy your needs. Who am I to quibble over your personal life? I am nothing to you beyond your temporary business partner. It is not— It is not as though we have ever had any sort of discussion negotiating exclusivity between us.”
“Isn’t that what we’re having now?” Orin asked softly. “A discussion about exclusivity?”
He enunciated each word with exaggerated care, scanning Ari’s face. Orin raised a hand to his mouth and chewed at the rough skin around his thumbnail with studied casualness as he focused somewhere past Aristotle’s shoulder.
Ari found himself blinking in astonishment. “Well, I— Yes, I suppose that we are.”
Orin nodded slowly, shoving both hands deep in his pockets as he shifted his weight, scuffing one heavy boot heel on the ground. “That something you’d want? With me, I mean?” He flicked his head to the side, throwing sweat-damp hair off his forehead as he watched Ari with a serious expression. “I know I’ve got nothing to offer you but a big dick and a pilot’s license.”
Ari took a step closer, hooking a finger in one thick belt loop with a shy smile. “I must confess to being inordinately fond of your pilot’s license.”
The answering grin on Orin’s face grew so sweetly and slowly it was like pouring honey over ice.
Chapter Eighteen
“Nice ride, Stone.”
Ari watched Orin’s hackles rise as the morning quiet of the dock was disturbed by an unfamiliar and unpleasantly nasal voice. Orin set the supply crate down next to the ramp, dusted his hands off on his trousers, and turned to face the shabbily dressed trio of men approaching them across the dock.
“And the ship ain’t too bad neither!” the tallest one continued, throwing his head back with a wheezing laugh before blowing a wet kiss in Ari’s direction.
Ari edged back against the ship, bolstered by the solid metal behind him, trying to press hard enough to inject some steel in his spine.
Orin glanced over at him before lazily stepping closer to the men, blocking Ari from their sight. He hooked his hands in his braces, rocking back on his heels.
“Thought I might’ve smelled y’all coming. Mind standing downwind, Darryl? Do us all a favor.”
The other two men guffawed, slapping their sour-faced companion on the back as he glared at Orin.
Ari started making his way toward the ramp, head down and trying his best to avoid everyone’s attention.
The bearded man to Orin’s left ogled Ari shamelessly, roving from his carefully parted hair to the laces of his boots before turning to Orin with a baffled expression.
“Hey, wasn’t you walking out with a lady friend last I saw you? Didn’t take you for the pretty-boy type.”
Darryl’s laugh had a dark edge of cruelty as he leered at Ari while mimicking Orin’s stance with thumbs hooked in his own dirty canvas braces.
“Oh, you didn’t know? Now see—Stone—he’s anyone’s dog who’ll hunt. Don’t care what they got in the engine room; he’s in that cockpit quick as a whip. Ain’t exactly what you’d call discriminating. It’s all in his upbringing, if you ask me. Too much time around whores like his mother. Never got no proper schooling, but he sure learned how to drop his drawers for half a credit.”
Ari turned to Orin and found traces of hurt visible through the cracks in his impassive mask. A shocking surge of violence rose in his gut, hands rolling into fists as he contemplated how satisfying it would be to disarrange Darryl’s coarse features.
Orin’s hands dropped to his hips, resting there in a relaxed stance, right middle finger absently tapping against the butt of his pistol.
“You know, Darryl, I think we’d all breathe a sight better if you’d just crawl back into whatever puddle of piss you rolled out of this morning.”
The third man started inching away from his companions, bloodshot gray eyes fixed on Orin’s tapping finger. Ari did the opposite, changing course to move closer to Orin, observing the rising tension beneath his casual swagger.
Darryl’s face contorted in an ugly sneer, hands clenching around his braces.
“You owe us, Stone. That was our cargo got dumped when you surrendered your ship to Enforcers like a greenhorn on his first jump. You should’ve stayed in the dark with the raiders. Showing your rusted face round here, bold as brass? Well, seems to me that’s gotta mean you’re prepared to compensate us for our losses.”
His face twitched to Ari and back to Orin, oily sneer oozing across like a grease stain.
“Could cut you a deal, if you’re a few credits short, for old time’s sake. Let us take your fancy new ride out for a spin. Looks like he’d be a screamer, and I like ’em loud.”
Orin’s gun was in his hand before Darryl could shut his mouth, his other arm sweeping around to push Ari behind him. Ari deeply regretted leaving his own firearm on the ship, noticing, with a sinking stomach, the heavily laden holsters of the men before them.