The fries dwindle, and the silence stretches out between us. When we’re down to a single, golden bit left—the crunchiest, most delicious one of the batch, I’m sure—I hold it out to him in a gesture of friendship, feeling for all the world like I’m proposing or something.
“All yours,” I say.
“Nah, that would be selfish of me,” he says.
“Iinsist,” I say. I pick it up in my fingers, reaching toward him. “Open up, flyboy.”
He snorts out a laugh, and I use the opportunity to shove the fry in his mouth. Kye chews as he laughs, a smattering of crumbs in his beard, and it surprises me when his expression sobers. “You know,” he says. “I wasn’t sure if it was still you in there.”
I frown. “What the hell does that mean?”
His eyes dart to the floor, his teeth biting into his lower lip. “Well, I—never mind. It’s stupid.”
“We’re not doing this anymore,” I tell him. I reach out to take his hand, the fry bowl still between us. “Kye, talk to me.”
He squeezes my fingers, drawing just a touch closer. “Uh…this is normally where I would fuck your brains out and make you forget about the whole conversation, isn’t it?”
I can’t help the blush that creeps over my cheeks. “I guess so—and don’t get me wrong, I want that—but Idon’twant things to be like that with us anymore.”
He doesn’t say anything though, so I clear my throat.
“What if we made it a game?”
He cocks his head. “What did you have in mind?”
“Hm…” I walk my fingers up his wrist, finding the delicate bones of the arm that’s still human. “For every hard thing we’ve been wanting to say that we haven’t been able to, we take off an article of clothing.”
He barks out a laugh. “So it’s like strip poker, but about feelings.”
“Don’t rain on my parade,” I say, glaring at him. “In fact, I’ll start.”
“Okay,” he says. “What did you want to say?”
He’s still treating it like a game, so it feels strange as I mine my memories for all the things I’ve considered saying to him when we were on a communication embargo for all these long weeks–or months? It really feels like years. Unfortunately, the first one I land on is something that isn’t going to feel good to say or to hear.
But that’s part of the game.
“I was really angry at you for abandoning me when I needed you the most,” I say. I pull off my shirt as I do, tossing it to the floor. I’m wearing a sleek Merati binding underneath–something to make sure my boobs don’t get in the way during a fight.
Kye doesn’t so much as glance down.
His eyes remain locked on mine.
And his fingers are at the hem of his long-sleeved shirt, pulling it up over his head. I think he’s breaking the rules at first, but when he gets the garment off, he locks eyes with me again. “I needed you to be with me, and when you ran away with Ryker—and then Orion—instead, it made me feel like shit.”
I don’t touch him—I can’t touch him, not yet—it wouldn’t be fair or right. We need to talk this out. So I get on my knees to reach for the loose pants draped around my hips, unwinding the laces from the waist. “Talking to you all night in the cockpit makes me feel sane,” I whisper. “When I don’t have those moments with you, I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
I stand to step out of the pants, letting them fall to the floor. The Merati don’t believe in underwear, but I’m grateful that I got a pair from some of the female Skoll on Triton.Especiallyright now—I don’t think strip poker would be very fun with the Merati, when they believe in sofewarticles of clothing. Kye still keeps his eyes on mine, joining me in standing at the edge of the bed.
I don’t think our game is going to last long.
“You’re the only person that’s made me feel human since I got here,” he says.
His pants come off, dropping to the floor. We’re both in our underwear. I know what’s about to happen is inevitable.
But he doesn’t reach for me—doesn’t even try to check me out.
I have a few new scars that I’m terrified of him seeing, and even the briefest glimpse shows me that this isn’t the same body I last made love to.