Page 90 of CHOICE Lover
Her critical inner voice is decidedly not Janet, who would tell her to be gentle with herself or some nonsense. Heaven forbid her self-preservation instincts fire occasionally. Granted, that was terrible timing. They probably weren’t NHOS inspectors. But maybe they were. Mentally, she groans. Res6 is right. It’s too risky.
Her march doesn’t end until they’re in the garage, waiting for Res6’s private SAT. Thankfully, he says nothing, but that makes her feel even guiltier for chickening out than she already does.
Finally, when they climb inside, she slumps back into the seat, defeated. As they zip away in retreat, she finally speaks. “I guess I’m not a heroine after all.”
December 1, 2390.
What could be more detrimental to a heroine than losing a battle with herself? Is she even fit to give out advice? The way she ran the second the man with the crooked nose fixed his gaze on her could only mean one thing: she’s a coward. Ella never would have retreated like that.
She tossed and turned all night, unable to get the self-berating thoughts out of her mind. Exhaustion has her pulling the covers over her head as the morning light sequence brightens the room.
Even as Res6 knocks on her door and tells her he’s leaving for work, she doesn’t budge. Why is she like this? It’s as if any adversity turns her into an immovable, depressive lump. He shakes the lump of covers that is her languid form. “Electra, stop beating yourself up.”
The last thing she wants to do is settle like a cloud over his day. He did his part to get the meeting. “I’ll be fine. Just go.”
When he doesn’t budge, she says, “When I saw his once-broken nose, I thought it was meant to trick us into a false sense of security. It was dumb.”
Beside her, the bed sinks. “I shouldn’t have let you read that article.”
She groans. “I’m the one who let it mess with my head. It wasn’t your fault.”
“We’re not Zorg and Zephyr.”
She pops her head out of the covers. “What?”
His chuckle momentarily outshines the negative self-talk that’s been replaying in her mind since her fear got the best of her.
“You aren’t a non-deity who can control everything. You’re human, remember? You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.” He leans down and kisses her, which feels pleasantly domestic. “Do you want me to call Tommy and tell him I won’t be in?”
His offer makes warmth bloom in her chest. At least she has him—the parts he’s willing to share. “No, I’m okay. I just needed to wallow a bit. Disappointing yourself is a hard thing to live with. I’ll get up and do a little writing.”
“I had the same thought about his nose. The flaw felt too convenient.”
“Exactly. When we made eye contact, he seemed almost eager. It threw me off.”
“Agree,” he says. “I’d rather you follow your instinct than force yourself to do something you feel is unsafe out of stubbornness. Just promise me you’ll get out of your head.”
“I will,” she promises. “When you get back, I’ll be at my desk pouring all my angst into my characters.”
He kisses her again and slips out the door.
He’s right. It’s the article’s fault, not to mention the barren room full of suffering reincarnates. Still better to wallow for another hour for good measure. Maybe she needs to build up to the IdenTECH meeting. She hasn’t even ventured out into the city without her trusty protector.
She should invite her new friend Sister Xelna out for lunch while Res6 is at work. That would be a good start. And if after a few days, inspectors don’t show up at their door, she’ll feel safer assuming that the ID people were legit.
December 2, 2390.
Electra rolls over, blindly reaching for her device in the pitch dark. Since she figured out how to control the room’s light settings, the space is pleasantly cave-like. Blue light glows from the glass screen as she starts the Slow Good Morning sequence that will softly brighten the room, giving her eyes time to adjust. Checking her messages, she findsa DM in FrogBlog from Sister Xelna waiting for her. Her heart leaps. She’s agreed to meet for lunch today. Excellent.
The clock on her nightstand blares a bright 10:09 at her. She must have fallen back asleep after Res6 left for the day. She jumps out of bed, rushing to get ready, so she can get a column done before she leaves for her 13:00 lunch date.
She triple-checks her bag for her tablet so she can unlock the unit when she returns and a water in case she gets lost. Her device goes on a chain she wears cross-body. Oh, and a lip gloss. She runs to the bedroom, snatching one off the counter.Not procrastinating out of fear at all.
Finally, she is standing before the door to the unit, stomach squirming. God, making new friends as an adult is hard. “Fuck it.” She turns the handle, and she’s off. Fifteen minutes later, her heart is hammering as she wades through the crowded cafeteria toward the agreed-upon café. She glances around but doesn’t see the woman from the profile picture, so she takes a small table in the corner, deciding to wait. At 13:12 she’s about to give up when Sister Xelna approaches from across the room. The tattooed cat whiskers on either side of her button nose are instantly recognizable, not to mention the body-hugging leopard unitard she’s sporting. As she gets closer, Electra can see her black nails are sharpened to fine points, which match her spiky hair, and she’s pulling some type of animal behind her.
Electra takes a deep breath. She gathered this woman was a bit of an oddball, but she seemed so friendly and empathetic. Electra always gravitates toward people others might consider different, so she decided to give the woman a chance. Which means she needs to give the robot-cat thing she’s walking a chance too.
“Sister Xelna!” she greets brightly. “I’m so happy to finally meetyou in person.”
