The problem was that even though Ender understood perfectly well what was going on, he was enjoying it. He didn't want it to stop.
But it had to stop. Stop or change. The back-rubbing thing couldn't go on forever.
And he couldn't stop it abruptly. He had a role to play. Morgan had to believe that Ender was devoted to Alessandra, so that by marrying Dorabella, he would become Ender's future father-in-law. One more set of levers to control him by. Ender had planned to do it platonically. The time he spent with Alessandra, the attention he devoted to her, that would do the job.
Until now. Now they were pushing him. Through Alessandra--for Ender did not believe she had thought of this little encounter herself. "Thinking about your mother and Admiral Morgan?" said Ender. "Getting jealous?"
That got her to pull her hands away. "No," she said. "Not at all. What does rubbing your shoulders have to do with them getting married?"
Now, with her no longer touching him, Ender could swivel the chair around to face her. She was dressed...differently. Nothing obvious, not like the vids he'd seen of supposedly sexy fashions on Earth. She was wearing clothing he'd seen before. But a button less was fastened. Was that the only difference? Perhaps, because she had been touching him until a moment before, he was seeing her through new eyes.
"Alessandra," he said, "let's not pretend we don't know what's happening here."
"What do you think is happening?" she said.
"I was asleep, and you did what you've never done before."
"I never felt like that before," she said. "I saw how heavy a weight you carry. Not just the governorship and all that, I mean...all that came before. The weight of being Ender Wiggin. I know you don't like to be touched, but that doesn't mean other people can't want to touch you."
Ender reached out and touched her hand, hooked it lightly in his fingers. He knew even as he did it that he shouldn't. Yet the desire to do it was almost overwhelming, and a part of him said, There's no danger in this. Touching hands? People do it all the time.
Yes, and they do other things all the time, another part of his mind said.
Shut up, said the part that liked touching Alessandra.
What if this did go according to Alessandra's script--or her mother's. Were there worse fates? He was coming to a colony world. Colonies were all about reproduction. He liked this girl. There wasn't going to be a huge pool of girls to choose from in the colony; there were few his age among the passengers in stasis, so it would be mostly the girls born on Shakespeare that he would have to choose from, and they would be--not from Earth.
While he argued with himself, she held his hand more tightly and moved closer to him. Beside him. Now he could feel her warmth--or imagined he could. Now her body touched his upper arm; now her other hand, the one he was not holding, stroked his hair. Now she brought his hand up to her chest. Pressed the back of his hand, not to her breast--that would be too obvious--but to her chest, where her heart was beating. Or was that his own pulse he felt pounding in his hand?
"On this voyage I've come to know you," she whispered. "Not the famous boy who saved the world, but this teenager, this young man of about my own age, so careful, so thoughtful of other people, so patient with them. With me, with my mother. You think I haven't seen that? Never wanting to hurt anyone, never wanting to offend, but never letting anyone come close, either, except your sister. Is that your future, Ender? You and your sister, in a circle that lets no one else inside?"
Yes, thought Ender. That's what I decided. When Valentine showed up, I thought: Yes, I can let her in. I can trust this one person.
I can't trust you, Alessandra, thought Ender. You're here in service of someone else's plans. Maybe you mean what you're saying, maybe you're sincere. But you're also being used. You are a weapon aimed at my heart. Someone dressed you today. Someone told you what to do, and how to do it. Or if you really know all this yourself, then you're too much for me. I'm too caught up in this. I want too much for it to go forward as you seem to be offering.
I will not let this go on, thought Ender.
But even with that decision, he couldn't just leap to his feet and say, Get thee hence, temptress, like Joseph did with Potiphar's wife. He would have to make her want to stop, so that it would never seem to Admiral Morgan that he refused her. Morgan would certainly watch the playback of this. On the eve of his own marriage, Morgan could not see Ender absolutely refuse Alessandra.
"Alessandra," said Ender, speaking just as softly as she was. "Do you really want to live your mother's life?"
For the first time, Alessandra hesitated, uncertain.
Ender took his hand back, leaned on the chair's armrests, rose to his feet. He reached for her, gathered her into an embrace, and decided that for this to work, he would need to kiss her.
So he did. He was not good at it. To his relief, neither was she. It was awkward, they missed each other a little and had to recenter, and neither of them knew what they were actually supposed to do. Oddly enough, this kiss broke the mood and when they were done with it, they both laughed. "There," said Ender. "We've done it. Our first kiss. My first kiss, of anyone, ever."
"Mine too," she said. "The first one I've even wanted."
"We could go farther," said Ender. "We're both equipped for it--we make a complete matching set, I'm sure."
She laughed again. That's right, thought Ender. Laughing is the right mood, not the other.
"I meant what I said, about your mother," said Ender. "She did this, right at your age. Conceived you when she was fourteen, you were born when she was fifteen. The age you are now. And she married the boy, yes?"
"And it was wonderful," said Alessandra. "Mother told me, so many times, how happy she was with him. How good it was. How much they both loved me."
Of course your mother said that, thought Ender. She's a good person, she wouldn't want to tell you what a nightmare it was, being fifteen and having so much responsibility.