by Bella Street
Seffy shrugged and lowered her gaze. “It was a little tense there for a while.” She looked up, her expression defiant. “But I dealt, okay?”
“Okay.”
A sudden burst of light flooded the room, followed quickly by darkness. He edged closer to Seffy and craned his neck to look through the skylight. “I guess it is sunny, but with some fast moving clouds. Maybe a storm is coming in.”
“You'd never really know around here what with all the concrete and cement and lack of windows.”
“Yeah.” Trent regarded her downcast face. “So what did you do up here while you were waiting?”
“I just thought about stuff. I guess Clay and Popov are really dead now because they don't visit me anymore.”
Trent tried to decide if she was being serious or ironic. “Are you disappointed?”
“Yeah, right.”
Ironic. Phew. “So, why did you even consider coming up here without me? This is a sacred space, you know. And since I'm the discoverer, no one can be here without me.”
She smiled weakly. “I just don't have many places to go.”
“You're always welcome in my room,” he said waggling his brows.
“I tried. You weren't there.”
“Oh.”
Seffy glanced up at the ceiling. “I thought it would be warmer up here than it is. Attics are supposed to be hot, right?”
“I think it's pretty chilly outside.”
“I got a little cold. Feel my hands.” She reached up and laid her palm against the skin just below his throat, revealed by the two open buttons of his shirt.
Trent could only stare as she moved her fingers up the side of his neck. What the hell? When she looked up, there was no mistaking the intention in her eyes. His breathing accelerated as Seffy tipped up her mouth to his and kissed him. Shock kept him still until the movement of her lips became impossible to ignore.
This was no thank you or goodbye smooch. Damn, this was the real thing.
When her arms slid around his neck, Trent was hardly able to believe this was happening. He deepened the kiss and hauled her onto his lap. Instead of pulling away, she met his fervor, touch for touch. Her hands were in his hair, her mouth hungry and demanding. He gripped her waist in an effort to stay upright, but as she angled her body to straddle his lap, he lost his balance and they went over together.
Trent put out his arm and cushioned their fall. Seffy didn't miss a beat. She pulled him down on top of her. The light above went from bright to dark to bright again. Trent took her hands, lacing his fingers with hers, drowning in the warmth and sweetness of her mouth.
Seffy arched her hips against him. Another cloud covered the sun. Trent paused and gazed down at her. Her eyes were full of desire, her cheeks pink, her chest heaving. He suddenly realized something was wrong with the picture. Seffy wouldn't just go from putting up with his company to wanting a quickie in the attic.
He knew something had happened with Gareth. That she'd been crying. That she was lonely. Who did she think she was really kissing?
She reached up and tugged on the shirt fabric of his shoulders. “Don't stop.” As he regarded her, the desire in her eyes gave way to confusion.
“Sef,” he said softly. “Who am I?”
Her brows furrowed. “What?”
“Who exactly are you kissing?”
She propped herself up on one elbow. “I don't get it.” Her voice was flat.
“It's me, Trent. You know that, right?”
Color flooded her cheeks that had nothing to do with passion. She sat up and pushed against his chest. “Are you joking?”
“I just want to know.”
“Why? Is it because you think I'm crazy?” Her eyes widened. “Is it because you think I'm broken?”
Trent sat back on his heels. “What? No, I just want to make sure you aren't fantasizing about kissing Gareth.”
She stared at him and snorted softly. “No, Trent. I wasn't fantasizing.”
“But you're upset about something. I knew you were when I found you.”
“So?”
He looked at her, breathing hard, knowing he had just blown it. Or had he? “Seffy, trust me, I would like nothing better than to keep going here, but when and if that ever happens, I don't want you thinking about anyone else, and I don't want to be Rebound Boy. I want all of you. Your heart, your body, the whole package.” He swallowed hard. “Okay?”
Seffy ran her hand through her hair as her expression became shuttered. “Don't worry, Trent, because there will never be a repeat.”
***
So not only am I crazy, now I'm a slut.
Seffy stared at the ceiling of her room and decided Gareth was right. She was psychotic. What the hell had happened? Why had she come on to Trent like that? Maybe it was time for some serious meds. If she was going to start sexually attacking the wrong males, she should be on some kind of pharmaceutical leash. She made a mental note to talk to Olga.
Not that Trent wasn't gratuitously gorgeous, and even at times kind and supportive, but he was...Trent.
A non-starter. She remembered him saying he didn't want to be the rebound guy, or thinking about Gareth when she kissed him. Truth was, she had been thinking about Gareth when she kissed him. She wanted to believe it was Gareth who held her that way.
She'd tried, but failed. Trent felt different, smelled different, God, he tasted different. Seffy closed her eyes and rubbed her face. She'd never ever done anything like that before.
Ever.
She flopped back onto her bed. Time to talk to Olga. Right after a memory-blotting period of unconsciousness otherwise known as sleep.
***
“What kind of impulses are we talking about here?”
Thankful that Olga had responded to her call and dropped by, Seffy tried to think of an answer to the nurse's question. Unwanted naughty impulses. Embarrassing hormonal urges. Attraction to the wrong guy after being dissed by the right one. Oh, and seeing dead people, aliens, spaceships, and possibly faking the whole time travel thing. Is there a pill for that? “I'm just really messed.”
Olga's keen gaze studied her face. “Did Trent talk to you about this?”
“Trent?” Seffy's eyes widened. “He told you what happened? Oh my God, I'll kill him.”
The nurse furrowed her brows. “He came to me knowing that you were feeling distressed...”
“He used the word distressed?” She snorted. “There's a euphemism for ya.”
“A euphemism? I think I'm missing something here.”
Seffy shook her head in fury. “Would you describe jumping someone bones as distressed?”
“Jumping...uh, does that mean what I think it means?”
She gripped the edges of the desk for support. “I just can't believe he told you.”
“Seffy, Trent came to my place early this morning concerned that you were going through a hard time and wanted to know what kind of help was available.”
She blinked several times. “Early this morning?”
Olga nodded.
“Before noon?”
She nodded again.
“God.”
The nurse pulled her glasses off and polished them with a corner of her blouse. “So do you want to tell me about this jumping thing?”
Seffy felt her face heat. “Not really.”
“I can't help if I don't have all the facts.”
“You just want to hear dirty stories,” Seffy groused. When she saw the nurse begin to get huffy, she sighed. “Okay, here's the deal. Gareth basically said he's done with me for real this time, adding the whole 'you're psychotic' thing as the cherry on top of the dump sundae. Then I get lost in the damn attic—don't ask—and bawl like crazy over Gareth. Trent finds me and I'm all feeling sorry for myself, and Trent is, well, obviously dishy, and okay, so he's saved my life a few times and has been nice once in a while, and have I mentioned he's dishy?”
Olga nodded, her eyes wide.
“So, I start kissi
ng him and climbing all over him like a horny monkey. It was disgusting.”
“Go on.”
Seffy put up her hands. “That's it. Trent stopped me because he thought I was wishing I was macking with Gareth instead of him. He's got some very proprietary notions about that apparently.” She wrinkled her nose. “So can you give me drugs, please? I think a chemical lobotomy would serve nicely.”
Olga cleared her throat and replaced her glasses. “Well, well, well. Uh, the short answer is no. I'm not a doctor and cannot prescribe medication.” She raised her brows. “And in my day we dealt with unwanted feelings by taking cold showers.”
“Sounds...cold.” Seffy wrinkled her nose. “Anyway, don't tell me I have to say all this again to a man doctor in order to get the heavy duty pills?”
“Dear, I don't think you need medications. I think you need a support system of friends to help you through this. Besides, your blood chemistry makes it very risky. And the Trent thing, well he is attached to you obviously, but starting a romantic relationship right now probably isn't the best thing.”
“I did not use the words 'romantic' or 'relationship' in regard to Trent for obvious reasons. Anyway, how is he attached to me?”
“He came to me with his concerns, for one.”
“Did he say I was psychotic?”
“Of course not. He was worried you were hurting emotionally and mentally.”
“What's the other?”
Olga shook her head. “Excuse me?”
“You said 'for one', implying there's something else.”
The nurse fluttered her hands. “There was of course the time after he found you in that hole. He stayed with you every night while you were unconscious.”
“He did?” Seffy opened her eyes wide in shock, unsure how to process the information. After a moment, she blew out a haggard breath. “It should've been Gareth.”
“He wasn't allowed in.”
“He could've made a way. Trent did.”
“True,” Olga said after a moment. “So, why do you suppose Gareth 'dumped' you? I thought you and he were very close.”
“That's what I thought too. I guess in some way, I'm too far gone for him. He didn't exactly elaborate beyond thinking I'm nuts.”
“And so you feel alone and abandoned and turned to Trent. Probably unwise, but also predictable.”
“Even the monkey part?”
“I think I'm getting too old to keep up with you kids these days.”
“So I'm stuck? I have no options?”
Olga tapped her fingers against her chin. “Cold showers?”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Mental note to self: Next time there's a hot girl in your lap, do not stop to make conversation.
Trent paced the confines of his room and was tempted to bang his head on the cement block walls. He still couldn't believe what had gone on in the attic. Not even the long awkward trip back to their rooms brought about any comprehension.
When they'd arrived at his room, before leaving for hers, Seffy had formally apologized for her behavior in a chilly little voice, saying she'd been 'needy and not thinking straight'. Former Trent would've said that was the perfect time for a shag. Current Trent had only stared at her, wanting to comfort her somehow.
What kind of sick and twisted place was this compound?
He looked at his empty bed and wondered how he'd ever be able to sleep again. Not while he was aware of the warm, beautiful, delicious Seffy only a few feet away. Now that he'd blown his chances sky high, how would he ever get her to see him in that light again? She'd be a thousand times more wary, and a million times more cynical of any overture.
Dammit!
Trent closed his eyes, remembering every touch, every taste, playing it over and over on a loop in his mind. What a rotten time to find scruples.
***
I will become a robot.
Seffy stared at herself in the bathroom mirror, evidence of her latest crying jag still visible in the splotches on her face and the redness around her eyes. She decided she could no longer handle her emotions so they must simply be turned off. Rejection by Gareth, the disinterest of her friends, the flippancy of the compound to her situation...and the lust stirred up by Trent. It was simply more than a sickly girl could handle.
She would just shut down mentally and emotionally. It would require not making eye contact with anyone. So she would speak in a monotone and only when spoken to. She would keep her thoughts logical and orderly.
What else did robots do?
Seffy went into the main room and looked at the small stack of videos. Nothing sci-fi. Maybe there were some in that commons room. And if not movies, perhaps novels or even music that could help her become more robotic. She remembered the robot song from the Mexican restaurant in L.A. Did she need to learn Japanese as well?
Wiping her face of any remaining moisture, she ran her hand through her hair to fluff it and headed to the door. When she opened it, she found Trent on the other side. He stood with his hands in his back pockets looking scruffy and somehow sexy at the same time. “I can't talk to you right now.”
He dipped his chin and sent her an appealing look. “We need to talk. And I came to this door, so you should make a note of that.”
Seffy straightened and looked at his collarbone. “I'm sorry, I'm busy at the moment.”
He reached up and brushed at his neck. “What are you staring at?”
“I'm avoiding eye contact.”
“Why?”
“Because that's what...robots do.”
Seffy watched the strong pulse at the base of his throat while he digested her assertion.
“You're going to become a robot?”
“Yes.”
“Can I ask why?”
She could hear amusement in his voice. Seffy flashed a glance at him. Despite staring at a place she had kissed in the not too distant past, looking him in the eye was much worse. Back to the throat. “Duh. It's a coping mechanism.”
“Oh. Were you headed somewhere to be a robot?”
She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Much better than looking at a body part. “I was going to research robotic behavior in the commons room, by accessing their video library.”
Trent leaned close. “Well, it just so happens that I'm kind of an expert on the subject.”
Seffy narrowed her eyes at the ceiling. “Prove it.”
“Is there a chance we could do this not in the hallway?”
“Fine.”
She turned and went into her room, followed by the so-called expert. Trent strolled over to her bed and sat on the edge. Even though she wasn't looking at him, she knew he was grinning. Considering what else they could be doing together, it wasn't so bad.
“Okay, first things first. You can't be a robot.”
Forgetting the eye contact rule for a moment, Seffy stared at him. “What? Why?”
He held up his hands. “Number one, robots become more human. Humans do not become more robotic.”
She put her hands on her hips. “In this case they do.”
“There are other reasons, and not just because you're not made of metal.”
“I thought you said you were going to help me.”
Trent looked like he was suppressing a smile. “I said I was an expert. I guess you can be an android, or in your case, a gynoid—that's the female version.”
“Isn't that something from Star Wars or something?”
“There were androids in Star Wars, it's true.” Trent cleared his throat. “But you'll be more in keeping with say, the Stepford Wives.”
Seffy sent him a lowering look. “Uh, I actually saw that movie. I don't want to be a sexbot.”
“I'm just trying to be helpful.”
“So far you aren't so much.”
“Okay, then how about being like the Terminator dude?”
“I don't want to kill anybody.”
“I just mean that you'll be a cyborg with living tissue over a metal skeleton a
nd have a CPU for a brain and speak with an Austrian accent.”
“Is that good?”
“Yes, if you want to be mechanical and conscienceless.”
“Okay.” Seffy concentrated on staring at the stain on the wall just past his shoulder. “What else?”
“Well, there are many forms. Some say you should have a cord, no longer than six feet long, so you don't go crazy and attack everyone.”
She made a face. “A six foot cord is a depressing metaphor for my penned up existence.”
“And not nearly long enough for you to come see me in my room. We're gonna need an extension cord.”
“Trent, this is serious.”
He coughed. “Uh, yeah. So, do you want to be programmed to be more traditionally robotic or have behaviors that fool people into thinking you're human?”
“Probably the traditional one.”
“That's good, because then people will take you at robot face value instead of succumbing to Uncanny Valley.”
“What the heck is that?”
“People do not like synthetic humans. Makes them nervous, and they will refuse to accept you as one of them.”
“This is about me, not anyone else.”
His brow went up. “Another thing is that you'll need to work on your speech. You'll have to say things like affirmative, that does not compute, and danger, Will Robinson.”
“Am I supposed to know what that means?”
“And you'll need a name that's an acronym.” He leaned back on the bed. “Let's see. Sensory Enabled Flexible Fembot with Yaw.”
“Why does that still sound like a sexbot?”
“That was off the cuff. Let me try again.”
“Let's just go with Seffybot.”
“Hold on. Service Emotive Funbot—”
“That's worse. I thought you said you're an expert.”
“Okay, fine, Seffybot.”
She straightened her shoulders. “So my goal is to avoid eye contact, speak in a monotone, and be logical.”
“But what if the scientist who created you put in special secret software that allows you to feel emotions or allows you to become self-aware, like a replicant?”