23
January 31, 2027
Alainn sat directly beside Lorccan. Only inches of couch separated his leg from hers. Her feet were up on the coffee table; his weren’t. Lorccan hadn’t quite mastered the Sunday veg session, but he was trying.
Days and weeks were zooming past. Every day was almost the exact same, but each day was also immeasurably different. Each day she woke, tried to catch the monkeys—who were a bunch of wily little robots—then spent the rest of her day with Lorccan. They often spent weekends working, too, but on some precious days—like today—Lorccan would sit around and do nothing with her.
They watched a marathon of some of Alainn’s favorite old television shows, though she’d told him that she’d only heard of them and was interested in watching. They’d just started the first episode of one of her all-time favorite series when Lorccan aimed a smirk at her.
“What?”
“No wonder you like the idea of a sky train.” He shook his head.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She nudged him because it was obvious that he was making fun of her.
He gestured to the screen. “Cowboys in space?”
“It has great characters—I was told. Goodness gracious, stop being such a snob and watch it. I’m going to force you to love it. And just for the record, our world needs a sky train.”
Three hours later, he muttered, “We should probably go eat . . .”
“After the next episode?” she asked, bobbing her eyebrows at him.
He blew out a laugh. “Sure.”
Alainn grabbed a throw pillow and set it against his leg. Scooting down the length of the couch, she slowly laid her head on the pillow. Feeling suddenly unsure, she glanced up to check that Lorccan was okay with being so close.
He watched her carefully, lips parted.
“Can I lie here?” she asked.
“If you want,” he said.
“Okay.” She forced her gaze to the screen.
Alainn was really trying to be good. Lorccan had a girlfriend . . . He kind of had a girlfriend. He had an internet girlfriend he’d never actually met. But she knew that didn’t matter; he wanted Shelly, not her.
Well, he thought he wanted Shelly, since he’d never even actually met her. But, again, that didn’t matter.
The problem was that every time their hands brushed, or he gave her a hug or touch, those were her happiest moments. They were the happiest moments she’d had in years.
There was a line she’d drawn for herself, and she told herself she would not cross it. Yet, every day, she pushed that line back just a little.
They watched the screen. Both of them remained motionless, as if movement would fracture their moment.
Fingers lightly brushed over the top of her hair, the barest of touches. Glancing up, she found his gaze on the screen. She cuddled in closer to him, lifting her head into his hand.
His fingers combed farther into her hair, massaging down the length of her scalp. When he’d finished massaging down, he massaged back up. He continued to do this, up and down.
Alainn closed her eyes, amazed that such a simple touch could feel so erotic. Perhaps it was because her head was so close to his lap, but her body buzzed with an electric anticipation that traveled straight to the center of her thighs.
She wanted him to touch her anywhere—everywhere. She wanted to slip the straps of her dress down her shoulders, down her body. Her mind couldn’t stay on the television show. She became hyperaware of everyplace her dress touched sensitive skin. All the while, his fingers caressed her slowly.
There was a line not to cross.
Kissing him and touching him was well beyond that line, but the idea of doing just that consumed Alainn’s every thought.
Slowly, her hand moved from under her face, across the small distance of couch, and to his leg. At first she just slipped a finger along his calf, but when he didn’t protest, her fingers drew slow circles on his leg.
His fingers stilled for a second on her head, then he continued to caress her.
Gathering all of her courage, Alainn peered up into his face and met his gaze. His eyes stayed intent on hers as she twisted and sat up slowly.
“Jade,” he whispered, but she didn’t know if he was warning her away or asking her closer.
Her gaze fell to his beautiful, uneven lips.
“Jade,” he whispered once more.
“Yes?” she whispered back, her gaze going to his; she meant to ask a question, but it had come out an answer.
“We can’t,” he said as his other hand came up to thread through her hair.
“Why not?” She leaned just a little farther in.
“It’s not real,” he said.
“Then why does it feel real?”
He leaned in, his lips meeting hers slowly. Soft lips brushed over hers with the slightest of caresses. His hands cupped her face while hers went to his shoulders for support.
His light kisses brushed everywhere on her face, slow and gentle, barely more than butterfly wings brushing over her skin. And she kissed him, too, on both the scarred and smooth sides of his face. But they always returned together, deepening the kiss slightly each time.
He pulled back, breaking away from her suddenly. “Jade . . . we can’t do this.”
“Why not?” She sucked her lower lip into her mouth.
His hands were still in her hair, his eyes still burning into hers.
“I can’t live my life in this fantasy world. I need something real. I need reality—”
She leaned in, pressing her body against his, her face to his shoulder. “I want to be your reality.”
“I know, but . . . it’s just not that way.” His arms lowered to embrace her to him. “Maybe we should get some distance from each other for a couple days.”
“No. Nope, that’s a bad idea.” She shook her head slightly, though she was still pressed into him. “Just give me a minute, then I’ll drop it. I promise.”
“Okay,” he said as his hand caressed her lower back.
Alainn leaned back to look at him. “Just sixty more seconds.”
He licked his lips and then smiled just a little before she kissed him again. This time, it wasn’t just a brush of lips. If she only had sixty seconds, she’d make them count. Her hands cupped his face, rough and smooth sides. Lips pressed lips. Breath mingled. His hands gripped her back as she sucked his bottom lip into her mouth.
After much more than sixty seconds, he leaned his head away. “I think your exhaust might be making me lightheaded, Jade.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “Don’t worry; it’s not toxic.”
He gave her a serious look. “We should go to dinner.” His thumb brushed over her cheek. “And we should probably set some more boundaries between us.”
Her stomach plummeted as she nodded. “If that’s what you want.”
“It—it’s what I need.”
Alainn looked away. “Why is she reality . . . and I’m not?” A stupid question, but she meant it all the same.
He sighed, his hands dropping away from her body. “It’s hard to explain to you.”
“But if I was a human, you wouldn’t let me anywhere near you,” she whispered.
He looked away. “I’m trying to get past that, Jade. All I want—all I’ve ever wanted—is to have something real in my life.”
I’m real! she wanted to say. But she knew that wouldn’t work for Lorccan, so instead, Alainn went to dinner.