CATRIN

I’m told by the others that Tarekh demolishes every crate in the cargo bay. Not just the wood ones from the primitive planets, but the sturdy plas ones from the more “civilized” trading federations. He punches and destroys so many things that Alyvos gets concerned and tries to stop him, and also gets punched in the face. Hours later, when Tarekh is done, he retreats to med-bay and wraps his knuckles up with healing film and numbing gel.

The others are mystified at his actions. Tarekh’s the nice one, the gentle one. They don’t understand.

Me, I feel warm inside.

I get it. He smashed everything he could because he couldn’t hurt those that hurt me. I should be upset, but I’m fucked up in the head because it makes me happy. He’s the only one I’ve told what I’ve been through. He’s the only one I ever plan on telling. And his reaction makes me feel less alone, weirdly enough. Like someone else gets it and understands me.

Still, I can’t help but worry when he doesn’t come back to my chamber that he’s thought long and hard and decided against wanting me. That I’m too dirty and used for him. That even ugly mesakkah have standards. Doubt and worry gnaw at me and I can’t go to sleep even when the hour grows late and the rest of the crew heads off to their beds except Sentorr, who stays on the bridge because the man has no life.

I lie in my bed and think about Tarekh.

Actually, I guess I’m lying in Tarekh’s bed. He’s still sleeping in med-bay, where it’s uncomfortable and sterile. He says he doesn’t mind. I’ve offered to switch with him, but he refuses. Says I need my privacy. Maybe I do, but tonight, I kind of wish he was here with me, even if it terrifies me to think that. The crew of the Fool is so small that any ripple in the social dynamic feels huge. Heck, it’s been two months and Kivian still complains that Aly and Sentorr are grumpy that I’m here. What if Tarekh and I try to take things to the next level and I can’t? Will he hate me?

I don’t know. I hate that I don’t know. I want there to be answers instead of just more questions.

I stare at the door to my room. Should I get up and head over to med-bay? Talk to Tarekh? See how his hands are? Or am I too chicken?

I…might be too chicken. I roll over in bed and move to the wall panel, where the controls are easily in reach for the central comm. I don’t recognize the alphabet on the keys—mesakkah written language is lower on my list of things to learn—but Tarekh helpfully colored the keys that I need to dial him in med-bay. We’ve communicated back and forth before, but never after bedtime. It feels a little more intimate this way, but not as intimate as a face-to-face meeting would be.

I tap the buttons and wait for him to answer.

Tarekh picks up immediately, surprising me. He’s still awake. “You okay, Cat?” There’s concern in his gruff voice. “You don’t have the vid screen on.”

“I know.” Mostly because I don’t want to stare at his face right now. I’m feeling too fragile. “And I’m okay.” I hesitate, because I wanted to check in on him and instead he’s worrying over me. “Are we good?”

There’s a pause. “Are you asking if I feel different than I did earlier?”

I swallow hard. “Yeah.”

“Cat, I think you’re my favorite person I’ve ever met. Nothing that you told me changed that.”

I swallow the knot in my throat. “Thanks.”

“Are you good?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “I don’t know how I feel about any of this. I’m just worried…”

“That something will change and we won’t be friends any longer?”

I’m torn between laughing and crying. Laughing because he knows me so well and crying because he’s exactly right and I’m terrified. I’m frightened I’ll send mixed signals or the flirting will go too far and then I’ll want to stop and he won’t and then everything will get ugly. I’ve always told myself that when others touched me, it was just sex. A bodily function, no more than farting or burping. Thinking about it in crude ways helped me distance myself from what was happening.

But I know that if I touched Tarekh and he touched me, it’d be different. Those mental boundaries would be gone. Maybe that’s what scares me most of all.

“You’ll never lose me as a friend, Cat. I promise.” His voice is warm, slightly rough, but so good I want to use it as a blanket and wrap myself in it. “I’m here if you want me. I’m here if you don’t. I’m here if you change your mind about all of this and just want a buddy. And I’m here if you want more. There’s no pressure.”

“Okay,” I breathe. Some of the tightness in my chest eases. “Thank you.”

I want to say “I love you,” but I don’t know if that’s just my messed-up head or what. So I end the comm before I can do something I regret.

If Tarekh says things are safe, I believe him. If he says he’s going to be my friend no matter what, maybe…maybe I test that. See how it feels to be more than friends. I kind of like that idea. I hug my pillow close and go to sleep, imagining that my bed isn’t empty and a big blue alien’s curled up next to me, his body protectively sheltering mine.

I sleep better than I have in years.