by A. L. Davroe
“Aw,” Guster teases. “He likes you. Don’t you Dune Boy?” He makes a stupid voice when he says this, his tone going all foolish and kissy faced. Dune whines and licks at Guster’s throat, his whole body wiggling because he can’t seem to control his tail.
I scrunch my nose. “That’s disgusting.”
He laughs to himself. “He’s just saying hello. It’s like a hello kiss, doggie style.”
“I’m glad no one ever said hello like that to me.”
His hands are suddenly around me as he grins. “Maybe someone should.” He wags his eyebrows.
I stumble off the vivacycle and back away from him, grinning and raising my hands. “Oh no. Don’t you dare.” But he’s already getting off the vivacycle, arms outstretched toward me.
Laughing, I shriek and flee from him, Dune barking and romping at my heels. Again, I know he’ll catch me, so there’s not really a point in running. But I do it anyway, because having someone care enough to come after me means something important. I just hope he doesn’t really intend on salivating all over me…at least, not like Dune did.
When he finally does catch me, he grabs me around the waist. His momentum spins us around in a circle and downs us both in a patch of scratchy weeds. I can feel things crawling out from under me, making me wriggle underneath him as I giggle wildly, but he doesn’t seem to notice the bugs. He’s staring at me, his eyes twinkling in the darkness. In the next moment, he smoothes his fingers along my brow, brushing hair from my face, and smiles a soft, contemplative smile that makes my squirms turn from the outside in.
I take a deep breath, trying to center myself and focus on something other than the light feeling he gives me. “Why do you smile so much?”
“I’m happy,” he says, shifting so that he can rest his weight on one elbow. “I like it here.”
I cock my head. “You don’t like it out there?”
His bottom lip disappears into his mouth, canceling his smile as his brow furrows in thought. “Do you run as much out there?”
“What?” I say with an exhaled laugh.
“You like running. You run when you don’t need to, just to run.”
I look off to the side, avoiding his eyes. I could say that I like running because I now have legs to run on, but it goes deeper than that. “Running here,” I whisper, not quite knowing what I’m saying, “It’s not like being on the treadmills at home. It’s different.” I shake my head, feeling stupid. “I don’t know, it’s like I’m more alive here, bursting with energy. I used to hate running; it used to be a chore. It’s not like that here. I get tired and I can’t breathe, but it’s a good tired breathlessness.” I look back at him. “I guess that sounds sort of silly.”
His smile returns. “I’m not sure I could explain it any better myself.” Dark eyes wander out and over the landscape, drinking in the sky and the land. “Every time I come here, it’s like being reborn. And, no matter how bad it gets here, I know there are more ways to solve my problems here than there are out there. The world is still alive here, people have potential, you’re still allowed to dream.”
Unable to help myself, I reach up and touch his face, drawing his attention back to me. “What do you dream of?”
His fingers twitch at my temple. “I dream of a lot of things,” he admits, his fingers wandering through my curls. “I can imagine endless possibilities, have infinite wants.”
I feel my cheeks warm as I say, “Do you want to know what I want right now?”
The grin quirks to the side. “Yeah, I do.”
I hold my breath for a long moment before exhaling. “I want you to kiss me again.”
Guster’s eyes widen, as if this request surprises him. I can’t imagine why it should, I don’t feel as though I’ve hidden my attraction to him, but then his expression deepens into something soft and affectionate. When he does lean in to kiss me, it’s long and hot, his firm lips smiling even as they travel along my jaw and down my neck. The intense feelings his attention arouses in me makes me sweat despite the cool night air, makes me want to jump up and run again despite how much I want to stay where I am. I want more than just a kiss. I want so much more from this boy. It scares me and it thrills me and, because I can’t have anything in Real World, I want it all here—damned be the consequences. He doesn’t stop until something close to my ear beeps in urgency.
Breathing heavy, he lifts his face and glances down at his wrist. He lets out an annoyed growl and runs his hand through his dark hair. “Final health bar.”
I blink, not entirely in the moment. My mind and body feel stretched too tight—tight to bursting. “What does that mean?”
He rolls off of me and gets to his feet. “I have to sleep. We can do this another time.”
I give him a disappointed pout.
He smiles and offers me his hand. “Trust me. There’s going to be another time.”
I lift a coy brow as I put my hand in his. “Who says I want another one?”
He hauls me to unsteady feet, pulling me close once more. “Keep running, Elle,” he whispers in my ear. “I’ll always catch you.” He steps away and spins around, his attention falling on Dune who’s sniffing around a clump of tall grass a couple of yards away. He lets out a shrill whistle. “Dune, come.”
Dune comes bounding over, tongue lolling.
As we walk back toward the cottage, I totter on shaking legs and attempt to pull strands of dried plant life out of my hair.
“You’re beautiful, even with weeds in your hair,” Guster says without looking at me.
I let my hands drop to my side and stare at the ground. How does this boy know exactly what to say to me? “You’re too good to be true.”
“Didn’t we have this conversation already?”
“Sort of,” I say. “I accept that you’re not an AI, and I understand you’re from inside the city. What I don’t understand is why you look like a Natural, and you think I’m beautiful.”
He shrugs. “Matter of taste, I guess. We’re both Aristocrats who chose to be Naturals here in the game. How much of that choice is biological and how much is social? Who cares? You and I hardly know each other, yet neither of us denies an incredible attraction to the other. I could be a murderer for all you know, but you still wanted me to kiss you.”
When he sees the horror on my face, he quickly adds, “I’m not a murderer, though. At least, not in the murderous sense of the word.”
Horror becomes confusion. “What do you mean, sense of the word?”
“I mean what I mean. You know I took out those two Knights this afternoon. But then, you killed one, too. But that wasn’t my point. I was just using the murdering thing to draw attention to the fact that we’re total strangers who just had an awesome make-out session based entirely on sexual attraction, and things would have gotten pretty heavy back there if I hadn’t stopped,” he muses, grinning again. He sounds both pleased with himself and entirely happy about it, and that just makes me want to knock him back to the ground and demand he finish what he started.
Disturbed, I stop and pinch my lips tight. “I feel like maybe…” My voice trails off, uncertain of the right thing to say. His words were meant to soothe my insecurity, but they seem to have the opposite effect. What am I doing? He’s right, I was totally going to go all the way back there. With this boy I hardly even know. Does the fact that this is a game make that okay with me? Am I just using him for some kind of release? Rebelliousness? No, I’m not using this boy. I honestly have intense feelings when it comes to Guster. But what if this initial attraction wears off and we’re left with nothing real between us? “You know, back home, they’d call us idiots for doing what you and I were just doing. People don’t just have random make-out sessions based on sexual attraction.”
Guster makes an exasperated noise somewhere between a sigh and a growl and looks up at the sky. “Don’t bring that Dome s
tuff here. This is a game; we can do what we want, and there are no repercussions.”
I frown at him, insistent. “It’s not that easy to just pretend that the rules no longer exist.”
His head snaps to the side, his expression suddenly fiery with annoyance. “It’s not a rule. It’s a stupid social norm. Interpersonal relationships should be based on real love and real friendship, not social status and reputation. And what two people decide to do with their relationship should be no one’s business but their own. I’m attracted to you, I want to kiss you, then damn it, I’m going to kiss you. It’s human nature to act like this.”
“That’s how it should be,” I agree. “But it’s not. Look,” I say, drawing a long breath. “It’s not that I’m perma-freezing anything, I’m just saying that I think we should get to know each other better. You know, before things, um…go too far?”
Guster cocks his head in thought, his dark eyes tight. “Out of curiosity, what’s too far when you’re only playing a game? Anything you do here isn’t real life. There aren’t any rules here, no one to judge you for doing what you want, and no one out there will ever know what you’ve done here. That’s the point of this game.”
“Maybe I want to go slower,” I growl, suddenly feeling like I’m been pushed in a corner. When his expression turns to one of astonishment, I remember I’m the one who asked him to kiss me and I cross my arms, feeling ashamed. “I’m really not that kind of girl. Though you wouldn’t know it with the way I’ve been acting with you.” I can’t really help it, Guster just feels natural and right. I’m attracted to him in a way I’ve never felt before. He makes my mind and body want things they’ve never wanted before. And he makes me feel smart and beautiful and capable, despite being Natural.
“Don’t sound so ashamed of yourself,” Guster says, his voice defensive again. “It was just a simple question. If it’s what you want, then you can have it. You can have anything you want, within reason. I don’t want you to think that I’m trying to force you into anything. I’m just trying to understand you better—much as you seem to think I’m only out to satisfy my socially unacceptable desires,” he adds sarcastically.
A scoff escapes me. “I feel like an overemotional, over-analytical idiot.” I roll my eyes at myself, my voice also sarcastic. “There’s a combination I never thought possible.”
Guster chuckles, then his wrist beeps again. “Half a life-point,” he breathes. “Come on, let’s go inside.” He places a wary hand on my back. When I don’t flinch, he slips it across my shoulder, guiding me forward once more.
When we get to the door, Guster turns me to face him. “We should synchronize; I’m going to get pulled out soon.”
He looks at his wrist, then at mine, and then fiddles with my circuit patch, his breath and the fluttery movements of his fingers on my skin making me squirm. “All done.”
He lowers my wrist and moves to drop my hand, but I snatch his back up. “This is okay,” I say, wanting to reassure him that I haven’t put insurmountable walls between us.
Grinning, he nods. “Ready?”
He shoves open the door before I can answer. It’s a common room with a table, a fireplace, and chairs. A small hall leads to two more rooms in the back. There’s a stairwell to the left, leading up to an open loft with a few visible beds. Everything is made of rough-cut, gnarly wood.
There’s a pretty girl by the fire. She’s leaning over the flames, the cropped cords of her red hair hanging over her face. There’s a dark, leathery old man sitting in a chair by the window, his clothes black and gray and made of rough fabric, his eyes closed as though sleeping. A young man, maybe in his early twenties, is at the table. He’s bent low over some kind of gizmo with wheels, his green eyes intent behind a shock of blond hair.
Dune brushes past us and thumps toward the redheaded girl. He nuzzles her arm, demanding her attention and causing her to spill a spoonful of whatever she’s cooking into the fire, making it hiss and spit. “Dune, you big dummy,” she squawks.
The old man’s eyes flash open, glance toward the fire—black and beady—and then shut again. “Should just shoot that damn mutt.”
Guster hustles me inside as he says, “You kill my dog, I kill you, Opus.”
Opus grunts but doesn’t open his eyes. The girl looks up, revealing her bright blue eyes. She’s a Natural, I’m fairly certain. At least she looks like one in the game, but she’s a darn pretty one. Prettier than me, that’s for certain, and I can’t help but wonder why, if Guster is so into Naturals, he’s pursuing me and not her. “Gus, did you find what you were looking for?”
Guster smiles and glances at me. “Sure did.”
“Hmm,” Opus mumbles. “Always bringing home strays.”
Guster drops his pack on the floor. “Good thing that I do, otherwise you’d still be panhandling back in Akri. Wouldn’t you, you bloody codger?”
Opus waves his hand and wrinkles his face like he has just tasted something sour, eyes still closed. “I’m trying to sleep, boy, can’t you see that?”
Guster rolls his eyes. “Guys this is Ella. She’s our spider.”
Opus’s eyes open then. “What?”
Guster turns to him and pins him with a dark glare. “You don’t like it you hitchhike right back to where I found you. Her inclusion is not up for discussion.” For a moment, the tension in the room is palpable.
The redhead clears her throat and raises a pale hand. “Hi Ella, I’m Nadine.”
I lift a timid hand and greet her back.
She looks to Guster. “You’re just in time. Dinner’s ready.”
“Awesome,” the blond guy finally says. “I’m starving. What is it today?”
“Uh,” Nadine glances back into the pot and frowns at it. “Well, it was prairie rill stew.”
The blond guy’s face crunches, confused. “But?”
Reaching out, she pats Dune on the head and grins. “But Dune ate the rill you caught yesterday so it’s vulcare stew…again.”
Opus throws his hands up over his wiry gray hair. “Again. Grief, Nadine, you’re going to kill us. It’s the third time this week we’ve had vulcare stew.”
Nadine glares at him. “If you don’t like it, you don’t have to eat it, old man.” She turns to me. “Some people have no gratitude.”
“Well, if Opus isn’t gonna eat, clear the pot, woman,” the blond stands and moves toward a cupboard set against the wall and comes back with a handful of bowls. “I, unlike some people, love your vulcare stew.”
Nadine accepts a bowl from him, ladles some of the stew into it, and then slaps his hand away when he grabs for it. “Guest first.” She holds it out to me. “I hope you’re hungry.”
Stepping forward, I accept the bowl. “I am, actually.”
She smiles at me. “I’m not the best cook, but I’m better than these idiots.”
I try to mirror her smile back. “I can’t cook at all.”
“None of us could,” she replies, turning back to ladle out more stew, “but we learned. You will too. I’ll teach you.”
Cooking. Never thought I’d learn that at all. Tasha does all of that. “That would be fun.”
Gus leans against the door and crosses his arms. I glance up at him. Though he’s got that satisfied half smile he always seems to be wearing, he looks exhausted. I hadn’t noticed it until now. I touch his elbow. “Shouldn’t you be getting some sleep?”
He looks down at me, and the smile lazily deepens. “Yeah.” He moves to step around me and stops. “You can sleep with Nadine, if you want.” He points up toward the loft. “Morden and Opus sleep to the room on the right and, um, I’m on the left.” There’s an awkward invitation in his voice that makes me blush again, but the others don’t seem to notice it.
“Brat thinks he should have a room all to himself,” Opus mutters from where he’s crouched with an empty bowl.
<
br /> Morden, the blond, ladles stew into Opus’ bowl. “That’s ’cause it’s his house.”
I give Gus a questioning look. He shrugs. “I stole it.” He leans over and kisses my forehead. “Don’t let them intimidate you. They’re harmless if a little eccentric or grumpy.”
“Speak for yourself,” Opus growls, plopping back down in his chair by the window.
Gus lifts a warning finger at him as he walks through the room. Dune gets up and follows, squeezing through the door to Gus’s room right as it closes.
Morden shoves his contraptions into a little basket he had by his feet and scoots over. “Here, doll, you can sit next to me for now. We’ll have Opus make you a chair tomorrow.”
Opus grunts around a mouthful of stew, juice dribbling down his chin.
Nadine sits in the one remaining chair by the fireplace. “He grumbles a lot, but he’s an excellent carpenter. Aren’t you, Opi?”
“Don’t call me that. I ain’t your Opi.”
She grins at him and wiggles her fingers. Smiling to myself I lift the spoon and take my first bite of home-cooked food. “Wow,” I breathe, “this is really good.”
Morden leans close to me. “Nadine is modest about her talent.” He nods toward Opus, who is shoveling spoonfuls of stew into his mouth. “He complains, but he likes it.”
I smile and continue eating. After a few minutes I say, “Nadine, how did you learn to cook like this?”
She lowers her spoon. “I used one of my mod chips to buy five experience points in the culinary arts.”
I cock my head. “You can buy experience points?”
She scoffs. “Well, yeah. I mean, it’s not like I’d know it otherwise, right? After a few days with these idiots and the crap they cook, it became pretty obvious it would be a mod chip well spent. I mean, I could have used it for something stupid, but things are different here—valued differently. And it’s a useful skill. I decided to be smart with my mod chips. Culinary arts, hunting and trapping, and textile arts.”