Page 38 of CHOICE Lover
“I was thinking of starting a blog.” His grin dissolves. Still, she presses forward. “I can’t not write. I need to put my words out there, and I thought that might be a way for me to contribute to”—she has to stop herself from waving a hand in his direction—“society.”
“I’m not sure if people would be receptive. I’d hate for you to be disappointed on top of everything else you’re dealing with.” He’s referring to her acclimation, as he calls it. “Don’t misunderstand me. I think your writing is . . .amusing.”
“You’re reading my books?” Has he got to the sex scenes yet? Her work is definitely not slow burn. So, yes, he probably has. She groans. How embarrassing. Well, it could be worse. It’s not like he’s read her journal. Wait, has he? The entries appear to be in a file system they both have access to, as demonstrated by the several Brain Dumps that don’t belong to her. Notably one labeled “Res6’s Top Secret Task List.” As if she would snoop. At least he seems to understand Brain Dumps are private.
“I, uh . . .” His eyes widen. She can almost see the calculations happening behind them. He nods once, almost to himself, and his demeanor changes. It’s subtle, but she’s been around him enough to notice the slightly straighter posture, the upturn to one corner of his mouth, even the way his eyes sparkle a little more than they did half a second earlier. The change feels similar to his shift while interacting with the woman at the simulation chamber asking him questions for her blog.
“I confess. I couldn’t resist listening to your books. I was having trouble sleeping.” He points to the couch, which he is no longer using; he’s been sleeping in the forbidden room for days.
“But I told you, having people I know read my books weirds me out.” She eyes him, planting her hands on her hips for emphasis.
“I already had them downloaded.”
She chuffs. Is he really going to argue with her? “You could have found something else to download.”
“I already spent the unicoin.” He grins as if he’s found her weakness.
Damn her for sharing that little tidbit about her childhood. “You’re impossible.”
He stands and steps toward her. “Electra, darling, they’re available for anyone to read.”
She isn’t sure if it’s his out-of-the-blue endearment or his clear disregard for her boundary, but her mouth drops open. “That’s it. I’m starting an advice column. You people need serious help.”
“A column is too risky,” he grumbles, slipping back into his usual persona. “How can I protect you if you become well known? You can’t tell people you’re from the past. You don’t have an identity.”
“So you get to have your Room of Doom and Secrets, but I can’t have my column? That’s hardly fair. I can use a pen name,” she offers brightly. “How does Dear Electra sound?” It actually has a good ring to it. Much better than Ask Doctor Janet.
“But that’s your real name.”
“No one knows that,” she says, rolling her eyes.
After a minute, he adds, “It’s not a good idea,” which she pointedly ignores.
Clearly, he’s only interested in protecting his company. Who cares that she needs an outlet, some way to cling to the identity she lost? Or that future people are hopeless and someone needs to show them that love isn’t a scarce resource? The column will prove that she’s still relevant, still capable, and has a place in this whacko future she’s been thrust into. Plus, she wants to make Janet proud, or something like that. It definitely has nothing to do with figuring out what’s wrong with themale model/duplicitous fiend she’s roommates with and possibly dating. She can almost hear Janet say,Don’t drag me into your delusions, dear.
Res6 lets her finish getting ready, quietly observing her as she slips on a delicate pair of gold heeled sandals. She gives herself a quick glance in the full-length mirror. Wow, these make her legs look killer. She rarely gets to dress up, given that her work as a bartender required a uniform. Then while she writes, she wears worn T-shirts and sweats, and weaves her hair into a messy braid. Definitely no makeup. There was a moment during their argument when she considered canceling, but decided it would be a shame to waste this dress. The way the fabric shimmers when she moves makes her feel like a Christmas ornament.
It obviously has nothing to do with the fact that she’s enjoying their outings and how the amount of time he must have spent researching and planning makes her feel. She’s never had anyone do that for her before. Granted, he’s still claiming it’s for her acclimation. She isn’t sure that’s the case though, mostly because of the lingering looks. It is almost like, if you could ignore the problematic stuff like his cluelessness or the manupartner thing, Res6 would be grade A book boyfriend material.
He’s rich, successful, popular, and gorgeous, which of course aren’t the most important qualities. He’s protective, and he can be surprisingly thoughtful. But he’s hiding things, which really should be a big enough red flag to arrest her wandering thoughts.
She takes a step and stumbles, not used to the shoes. He darts forward, grabbing her waist to steady her.
“Thanks,” she says, hating how pleasant his hands feel after weeks of no hugs or barely anything resembling human contact. Why can’t her life be simple?
“Are you still angry that I’m reading your books?” he asks.
“Kind of.” Oh God. The implications! Considering he’s read her kinky sex scenes, it’s no wonder he doesn’t know how to act around her.
He’s still clinging to her waist as if he’s unable to let go. “Electra, you look—”
The words seem to lodge in his throat. She eyes the door. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”
He sighs, defeated. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Its fine. Amazingly, I believe that you genuinely don’t have a clue, so I forgive you.” They’re just books, and since she put them out for public consumption, she can’t really police who reads them. Her journal, however—she should probably mention that per the aforementioned cluelessness. “For future reference, you’re not allowed to read my Brain Dumps. Understand?”
“Understood,” he says, nodding earnestly.
