Me? I read most people like most people read books.
And looking at Fin closer, I know I’m right.
“You’re frightened.”
A flash of defensiveness comes over him. He gives a gruff laugh to cover it up. Bluff. Bravado. He’s such a boy, sometimes.
“No, I’m not,” he scoffs. “Why would I be frightened?”
“Fin …” I touch his cheek. “You don’t have to lie to me.”
He holds my stare for a moment, then breaks away, looking into the rolling dark outside. The station shudders around us, time grinding sideways, looping around and in on itself, over and over. The snake eating its own tail.
“REPEAT: RADIATION DETECTED ON DECK 13, ALL DECK 13 STAFF PROCEED FOR IMMEDIATE DECONTAMINATION PROCEDURES.”
I kiss his cheek. Run a hand through his tumble of pale hair.
“Fin, what is it?”
“… It’s stupid,” he murmurs.
“I’m sure it’s not. You can tell me.”
He meets my eyes again, a small dark crease between his brows. But I can feel the wall he’s trying to build between us now. The armor he’s dragging back over his skin. Shutting down. Closing off.
I touch his face. “Trust me,” I say, my voice as soft as a summer breeze.
He wrestles with it a moment longer.
“… I like you, Scar,” he finally says.
“I like you too,” I smile, running my fingertip along the bow of his lips.
“I mean … I really like you.” He looks down at my body, pressed against his in all the right ways. “And I want to, it’s just …”
I blink then, realization dawning on me. Of course, I tell myself. It should’ve been obvious. But I was so caught up in what we were doing, I wasn’t really thinking about what we were about to do. And …
“You haven’t done this before,” I say.
He presses his lips thin. I can see how hard this is for him. Being vulnerable like this. His whole life, Finian has fought to be treated as an equal, to prove that he’s not a victim of the plague that ravaged his body when he was a kid. To escape the stigma of this metal suit he has to wrap himself inside. And the thought of peeling himself out of it, leaving himself exposed …
“No,” he says.
“It’s okay, Fin,” I tell him. “That’s okay.”
“I’m not sure …” He shakes his head, jaw clenched. “I know you’ve had a lot of boyfriends. But without the exo, I don’t move that well. I mean, I can move, but it’s not graceful, and I don’t … I’m not sure how good I’d …” He sighs, frustrated with himself, with this, with all of it. “Ah chakk. I told you it was stup—”
I stop the word with a kiss, soft and sweet and long.
“It’s okay,” I whisper.
He doesn’t believe me. Avoids my eyes. I touch his cheek again, soft as feathers, until he looks up at me. I realize how much this means to him. That, yeah, he really likes me. And then I kiss him again.
“It’s okay,” I repeat. “Whatever you’re ready for. Whatever you like. I’m happy just to be with you. Whatever you want, it’s enough.” I squeeze his hand, kiss his metal fingertips one by one. “You’re enough.”
“… Really?” he whispers.
“Really,” I smile. “You’re beautiful.”
He runs his hand along my cheek, up into a lock of bright red hair, and even if the whole station weren’t coming to pieces around us, I’m sure the world would still be shaking as he kisses me again.
“You’re kind of amazing, Scarlett Isobel Jones,” he murmurs.
“Yeah, I know. You really lucked out here, de Seel.”
He laughs, and I laugh with him, and as we kiss again, it feels good and bright and sweet, and I wonder if I wouldn’t mind going out in this sweet, bright boy’s arms, over and over again until the end of—
“Scarlett. Finian. Do you read me?”
“It’s Zila,” Fin breathes into my mouth.
“Ignore her,” I whisper.
“Scarlett. Finian. Come in.”
“It sounds urgent,” Fin whispers.
“It’s Zila, it’s fine. Shhh—”
“Scarlett. Finian. Please respond, this is urgent.”
“—iiiitttt.” Pressing the Transmit button on my intercom, I heave a heavy sigh. “Zil, you and me gotta have a talk about sisterhood an—”
“Is the security detail dealt with?” she demands. “I need you and Finian up in Pinkerton’s office immediately.”
Finian and I exchange a glance, and the station around us rumbles ominously as the klaxons continue to wail. He looks so pretty by the dark light of the storm, but I can hear an uncharacteristic note of fear in Zila’s voice, which is enough to put the brakes on my racing pulse as I meet Fin’s eyes.
“We’ll be right up,” I tell her.
It takes a few minutes, a quiet dodge around four panicked crew, and a lucky escape from a burst of plasma in Stairwell A, but we make our way up to the hab level above. The station continues to quake around us as Fin and I creep along, hand in hand. We step into Pinkerton’s office/antiques collection, and I can see the worry in Zila’s eyes, note the thick black curl of hair she’s chewing on. Maybe for the first time ever, she actually looks genuinely frazzled as she glowers at me. Our good Lieutenant Nari “Hawk” Kim is standing beside Zila, staring at the glowing screens. She looks like somebody shot her dog.
“Where have you two been?” Zila demands.
“Zil, you okay?” Fin asks.
“I asked where you’ve been,” she demands, looking me over. “But given the fact that Scarlett’s shirt is untucked and you have bite marks on your neck, I need not have bothered.”
“We took care of the security patrol, Z,” I say. “Just like we were supposed to. Hence you not getting shot. If we took a little detour afterward—”
“That was foolish and selfish,” she snaps. “There are things I would rather be doing too, Scarlett.”
I admit, my hackles rise a little at that. I glance pointedly at Lieutenant Nari Kim hovering over our Brain’s shoulder, and folding my arms, I shoot Zila a meaningful stare. “Yeah, I bet there are, Z. And nobody’s going to judge if you two—”
“That is not what I meant,” Zila says, flushing as she glances at Nari. “Some of us have more important things on our minds than trivial flirtations. Some of us are trying to figure a way out of this mess!”
Fin looks taken aback as Zila’s tone almost rises to a shout. I make a note to put in a call to the Galactic Book of Records.
First time she’s ever done that.
“Zil, what’s the big deal?” he asks.
“How can you possibly ask that, Finian?” Zila demands. “You know as well as I do the level of complexity I am dealing with here!”
“Look, yeah, okay.” He scratches his mussed hair, shooting me an embarrassed look. “Maybe me and Scar took some time for ourselves. I’m sorry, I should be helping you more. I’ll do it next time—it’s no big deal, right? We’ve got literally infinity to solve this. If we mess things up, we just try again until we work it out and break free of the loop, yeah?”