Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 29593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
We get upstairs and my door is the first one at the top of the landing. I gesture at it and then open the door, desperate to squeeze every last moment with him that I can and somehow convince him that yes, coming to see me was a great idea after all. “Come on in. There’s not much to see.”
Brux steps inside, glancing around at my messy quarters. I never have anyone come up, and so it’s an absolute disaster. Noodle wrappers are all over the tiny countertop with a sink that acts as my kitchen, and directly across from that is my unmade bed, with some scrap metal stacked at the end of it that I kick to the side when I sleep. The floor is covered in projects that have followed me home, ones that I work on in my downtime. A half-made toaster covers my tiny table and chair (also made from scrap) and there’s a scrap chime hanging from the ceiling despite the fact that there’s no window and no breeze. I just like the symbolism of what it stands for.
He rubs his jaw, staring at my quarters.
I immediately go into overdrive. I straighten my table back into its regular spot by the wall and start picking up shoes I’ve got kicked all over the floor, along with dirty clothes. “I’m sorry. I’m a mess. I know. I wasn’t expecting you to come over or I’d have cleaned up. You must think I’m a disaster.”
“It looks lived in. Nothing wrong with that.” Brux offers me a small smile and heads toward my tiny kitchen. He picks up one noodle wrapper and grimaces. “I’m allergic to this one.”
“Shit. I think that flavor is all I have.” I want to snatch it from his hand in shame. “I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t know.” He carefully wipes his hand on his tunic and takes a step back. “But will you allow me to bring you some other noodles? Tonight?”
I want to squeal like a teenager with heart eyes. “I’d love that.”
He hesitates again. “Perhaps we can play a game of some kind after we eat? Do you enjoy sticks?”
“Never learned it, but I play a mean checkers.” Brux gives his head a little shake, indicating he doesn’t know what that is. “I made a board for someone else that never came to pick it up. It’s around here somewhere.”
“Then we will play that,” he agrees, his expression solemn. “I would not wish to dine and then have no reason to linger.”
I want to tell him that we can just talk, but if he needs a reason to stick around, I will happily give him one. “Game night is perfect.”
“Should I bring anything else?” he inquires, so very serious. As if we’re making plans more detailed than just dinner and a game.
“Just yourself.”
Brux’s expression grows even more solemn. “I would like it if I was the only one for you tonight, as well.”
So he was following us. “I take it you mean Aithar?”
“I do. I did not like you with him. I hated it, actually, and that surprised me.” He says the words slowly, as if he’s just discovering them himself. His gaze doesn’t meet mine. “I acknowledge that I rescinded any claim of interest—”
I put up a hand. “We’re just friends,” I blurt out. “I dated Aithar when I first got here and it never felt right. Dated another guy, too. Didn’t feel right, either.”
He’s silent.
“In case you’re wondering if we feel right, the answer is yes. You’ve always felt right to me. But I understand that it doesn’t feel right for you, and I’m content to wait until it feels right for the both of us.”
He’s silent for a long moment more. Then he nods, ever so slightly. “Thank you. I realize that must seem strange.”
“Not at all. Patience is a virtue.”
Brux smiles a bit wider at that. He eyes me, as if he can sense all the tension I’m brimming with. “Not a virtue you practice much?”
I let out an anxious breath. “Me? God, no. But I’m willing to try.”
He chuckles, the sound low and rusty. “I am trying, too. What time should I be back?”
“Eight? Standard Risda time?”
When he nods, there’s a lightness in his gaze and I feel as if I’ve won some sort of important battle. To think I’ve met the only guy in the universe that doesn’t want me throwing myself at him…but still wants me.
“Tonight, then,” is all Brux says.
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
BRUX
Funny how quickly you can take care of business when you’ve got somewhere to be. I head back to the space port and finish paying the crew, checking one last time over our work summary to ensure that everything has been completed. I fill out the appropriate forms with the Homeworld office, letting them know that the job is completed, and that I’ll be staying on for an additional month for maintenance checks. I even put in a good word for Jonnas as a possible crew lead for an upcoming job. He’d love the opportunity and even if he’s not the most likeable sort, he shows up every day.