“WAKE UP, WATT,” Nadia whispered into his ear as their hydrogen-fueled jet began its descent.
Watt stirred and rubbed his eyes, a little annoyed with himself for falling asleep on this flight. It was his first time on a plane—first time leaving New York, really, unless you counted the one time his science class went to the space museum in Washington, before the latest round of budget cuts eliminated things like out-of-state field trips. Watt glanced out the window on his left and gave an involuntary intake of breath. He was looking out over Nevada, which stretched stark and pigmentless all the way to the horizon. It was like seeing the surface of some desert planet. How surreal to think that normally he was that far down, chained to the earth’s surface by the restraints of gravity.
Next to him, Leda crossed one skinny leg over the other and closed her eyes, glossy and cool and indifferent.
Nadia, what should I say to break the ice?
I don’t know, Watt, I haven’t found much precedent for a couple that’s blackmailing each other, hooked up, and are now headed to a rehab check-in, Nadia replied. I did find one on a holo show, but removed it from the data set as unrealistic.
Watt ignored the sarcasm, though Nadia’s conclusions weren’t far off his own. He had no idea what to make of the situation with Leda. That night with her had been dark and bitter and reckless and honestly, the most electric hookup of his life.
He hadn’t expected to hear from Leda after that—or at least, hadn’t expected anything but more surveillance requests. He’d been shocked when she messaged him demanding that he come to Nevada with her, for some meeting with her old rehab counselor. She’d offered no further explanation than a link to his airline ticket.
There’s no way she’ll ever trust me enough to confess the truth about Eris. Is there? Watt asked Nadia, not really expecting an answer.
I’d say you’re not off to a great start, given that you both said you can’t stand each other, Nadia pointed out drily.
When he remembered the exchange that Nadia was talking about—how they’d been half-dressed, in Leda’s bed—Watt felt suddenly uncomfortable. I thought I told you to always shut off when I’m in, um, intimate situations, he reminded her. He’d made that command a long time ago. There was something he couldn’t handle about having a third presence in the bed, even if it was just a computer.
Yes, but you also directly commanded that I never turn off when Leda is around, Nadia reminded him.
Please reinstate the block on romantic situations, he thought firmly.
We should revisit your definition of romantic, because whatever is going on right now, I don’t think it qualifies.
You know what I mean, he thought, and stretched out a little farther in his plush first-class seat. Honestly, Nadia, I’m losing track of all the commands I’ve given you.
I’m happy to make you a list, with time stamps. Snarky as usual.
Watt knew he just had to get through the weekend and get on with his life—and try to have some fun pushing Leda’s buttons in the process. It was the best outcome he could hope for, at this point.
The plane touched down with a thud, steam rising from the hydrogen-fuel system like liquid smoke, a few droplets scattering onto the scorched runway below. Watt remembered that once upon a time planes had been powered with carbon-based fuels, not water. How shortsighted, and wasteful.
He and Leda still didn’t speak as they made their way into the waiting area, where floating hover-bots brought over their luggage. Leda tilted her head for a moment, receiving an incoming message. “Our car is here,” she said shortly, and headed into the glaring outdoors. She moved like a ballet dancer: her carriage erect, her shoulders back, her steps light and quick as if the ground were on fire and she couldn’t bear to touch it for any length of time.
Something unfamiliar danced along the periphery of Watt’s vision. It took him a moment to realize that it was his shadow. The solar lighting in the Tower was perfectly even from all angles—unlike the real sun, a single, focused source of light that actually moved throughout the day—so he never saw his shadow within the Tower itself. He suppressed the urge to stop and study it.
He and Leda maintained their chilly silence as they slid into a car, its polymer exterior set to a bright silver-blue, and turned onto the speedway. The dusty horizon line glimmered in the distance. Watt closed his eyes and played mental chess with Nadia. She felt such pity for him that she let him win, for once.
Suddenly they were turning down a side road into a lush profusion of green. A village of sandstone buildings was centered on an enormous pool, with a waterfall that flowed upward—a cleverly constructed illusion, Watt realized. Flowers cascaded over the red tile roofs, and palm trees stretched their fronds up into the sky.
Girls walked throughout the space. Like Leda, they all had an aura of wealth and privilege, yet a hollow, haunted look about their eyes. Next to him, Watt felt Leda tensing up. No wonder she didn’t want to come here, he thought. Despite looking like a high-end spa, it probably brought back some memories that were complete shit.
He didn’t speak until they’d arrived at their rooms, each a self-contained cottage on wooden stilts, in a far corner near the pool. “Separate rooms? I thought I was supposed to be your boyfriend,” he said, raising an eyebrow.
What little composure Leda had left seemed to snap at his remark. She unlocked Watt’s door and grabbed his shirt by the collar, pulling him roughly inside. She was suddenly very close, so close that he could feel her pulse leaping through her wrist. There was a microscopic fleck of green in one of her dark eyes. Watt had never noticed it before. He found himself staring at it, wondering which of her parents it had come from.
“Let’s get this straight. You are here for one thing only,” Leda told him. “To get my mom off my back by helping me pass this stupid rehab check-in, preferably with as little actual rehab as possible. I only told them you’re my boyfriend so that you could be here as my accountability partner instead of my mom.”
Watt wondered why Leda was so against bringing her mom here, but decided it was too complicated a question. He’d rather keep rattling her composure. “You’re sure this isn’t a cross-country booty call?”
“What happened last weekend was a drunken mistake that we will never repeat and never speak of. You are working this weekend, got it? This is not your damn vacation.” Leda’s voice crackled with tension.
Watt smiled. “Of course this is my vacation. It’s not every day that I’m coerced into flying to Nevada.”
Nadia directed his attention to a schedule projected on the cottage wall. She loves yoga, Nadia reminded him, probably attempting to be helpful. But Watt knew exactly how Leda would react if he hijacked her beloved yoga class.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to make afternoon yoga,” he said, with a nod at the schedule.
“No. You are not coming to yoga with me,” Leda threatened, but the more she protested, the more Watt was determined to be there.
The fun was just beginning.
Later, after an hour of yoga in the meditation tepee—which Watt had mostly spent sitting cross-legged, watching Leda flow effortlessly through the poses despite Watt’s attempts to make distracting noises—they were both in the waiting room of the main building. Watt crossed an ankle over the opposite knee and jangled his foot impatiently. Leda kept shooting him glances, clearly piqued, so of course he didn’t stop.
“I’ll do all the talking,” she volunteered at last. “You don’t have to say anything. Just smile and nod, and answer any direct questions as quickly as possible. All you have to remember is that you’re my supportive, helpful boyfriend. Oh, and that your older sister died tragically of addiction,” she added, almost as an afterthought.
Watt pretended to gasp in horror. “You invented a big sister for me and then killed her? How could you?”
Leda rolled her eyes. “Don’t make me regret bringing you here, Watt.”
“Don’t worry, I already regret it enough for the both of us,” he replied cheerfully, just as the door opened to reveal a slender, red-haired woman in a doctor’s coat.
“Leda, nice to see you again.” The doctor held out a hand. She wasn’t wearing a nametag, but it didn’t slow Watt down, because he already knew everything about her.
Game time, Nadia, he thought, and stepped forward. “Dr. Reasoner, Watt Bakradi. I’m Leda’s boyfriend.” He gave a charming smile and shook her hand as they all sat down.
“Watt’s here as my accountability partner,” Leda hurried to explain.
Dr. Reasoner’s brow furrowed. “Leda, I don’t have any mention of a boyfriend in your file …”
“We only started dating this fall, after Leda came back.” Watt reached out to put a hand on Leda’s, where it sat on the arm of her chair, and laced his fingers in hers. She shot him a dark look.
Dr. Reasoner leaned forward, regarding them both curiously. “And how did you two meet?”
“Watt was actually interested in a friend of mine first, but once he met me, he realized that we were much more similar,” Leda said tersely. She dug her fingernails into his palm. He turned his grimace into a smile.
“Yes, I regret to say that like Leda, I’m entirely self-absorbed and insecure. It’s something I’m working on,” Watt declared, so matter-of-factly that Dr. Reasoner blinked, unsure how to react. He could feel Leda seething next to him, her anger radiating in small swirling waves.
“And, Watt, you understand what it means to be an accountability partner?” the doctor said after a moment, clearly deciding to ignore that last comment. “That your job is to enable Leda to keep making good choices?”
“Of course I understand, Dr. Reasoner,” he said quietly. “Although Leda is really the one who helped me. I can’t tell you what an inspiration she was to my sister. You see, my sister suffered from crippling addictions for years—”
“Yes, poor Nadia—” Leda said meaningfully, but Watt ignored the veiled threat.
“—she was addicted to xenperheidren, alcohol, attention, you name it. Leda was an incredible role model for her because, of course, Leda has been addicted to all those things at some point.”
“And how is your sister now?” Dr. Reasoner asked, her face lined with well-bred concern.
“Oh, she died,” Watt said flippantly, and shot Leda a satisfied look, as if she should be proud of him for remembering. She looked like she wanted to strangle him with her bare hands.
“I’m so sorry to hear that. I wish we could have treated her here,” the doctor managed, clearly taken aback. She cleared her throat uncomfortably and turned to Leda. “Leda, have you felt any addictive tendencies in the last few months?”
“No,” Leda said quickly.
“Not for drugs or alcohol, at any rate,” Watt interrupted, with an exaggerated wink.
“Well. I’d like to go over our recommended follow-up for treatment.” The doctor faltered, her eyes rapidly dilating and contracting as she looked at two different versions of something. “I guess we’ll use the partner’s plan, instead of the parent—though, Leda, I still think your mom will want to see—”
“Of course we should use the partner’s plan. I’m not going anywhere,” Watt promised, watching in unabashed delight as Leda gritted her teeth and nodded.
Later that night, Watt lay in the oversized king bed in his Mexican-inspired casita, a superfluity of pillows piled around him like whipped frosting. He was, honestly, confused to be in bed alone. Not that he really wanted to hook up with Leda, he told himself. But why didn’t she want to hook up with him?
He’d been so sure that they would end up together tonight. After that hilarious farce of a check-in, which Leda had accused him of sabotaging—“Are you kidding? I saved it,” he’d boasted—they’d declined the optional-but-clearly-encouraged share circle and eaten dinner in the cafeteria. Then they’d gone to Watt’s room to watch a silly kids’ holo about a cartoon donkey. They’d been sitting on the couch, not the bed, with plenty of distance between them; yet they’d been laughing with such ease that for once, Leda had seemed genuinely relaxed.
He’d been shocked when the holo ended and Leda said good night, then stood up and just walked out the door. Now here he was, alone in the most luxurious bedroom he’d ever set foot in, utterly bewildered.
“Nadia. What do you think Leda really wanted, bringing me all the way here?” he mused aloud.
“I would have called this a statistical anomaly, except there are no statistics,” Nadia replied. “I’m glad, at least, that you seemed to have fun.” She said that last bit a little huffily, as if this weren’t an appropriate time for fun.
A bloodcurdling scream sounded through the wall, from Leda’s room.
“Nadia, is she okay?” Watt cried out, sliding out of bed and stumbling forward.
“There isn’t a feed in her room,” Nadia replied, but Watt had already run barefoot onto Leda’s front step and started pounding at the door. An instant later the bolt slid open as Nadia infiltrated the rehab center’s system and granted Watt access.
Leda was twisted in a knot of sheets, her eyes closed, her mouth contorted in a grimace. She was screaming—a primal, otherworldly cry that made Watt want to cover his ears and back away. Instead he hurried forward to grab Leda’s hands, which were clawing frantically at the covers.
“Leda, it’s okay, you’re safe. I’m here,” he kept saying, rubbing his thumbs over the backs of her wrists.
Eventually the screams became moans, and died down, and then Leda grew still. Her eyes fluttered slowly, her lashes thick and damp against her cheeks. “Watt?” she asked drowsily, as if she didn’t understand why he was there.
Watt wasn’t sure either. He quickly let go of her hands.
“You were screaming,” he said helplessly. “It sounded terrible, like you were being tortured. I just—I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Yeah, right. You would rejoice if I was tortured,” Leda croaked. She sat up and tucked her hair behind her ears with a quick gesture. Watt saw that she was wearing a white silk nightgown. It would have been almost girlish, except that it clung so suggestively to the contours of her body. He averted his eyes.
“Normally, yeah, but I need to make that flight home tomorrow, and I’m not sure I can return without you.” Watt realized he was babbling. There was a strange pressure on his chest. He took another step back. “Sorry, I’ll let you get some sleep.”
“Please don’t go,” Leda said quickly, her eyes wide. She swallowed. “The nightmares … Please, just stay until I fall asleep.”
In that moment she didn’t look anything like Watt’s enemy, like the bitter, hard-edged girl who had threatened and coerced him. The girl in this bed was a stranger, who looked young and lost and achingly lonely.
Watt started to pull up a chair next to the bed, then hesitated. Sitting in a chair next to Leda’s bed felt somehow strange, as if she were sick in a hospital. Which, he realized, might have been how she’d ended up in this place to begin with.
His eyes met Leda’s, and she inclined her head ever so slightly in understanding, wordlessly shifting to create space for him.
Leda was very still, and very small, as Watt slid into the bed and curled around her. He listened to the ragged rise and fall of her breath. There was an excited nervousness spiking up and down her body, and Watt knew that he was the cause of it, and he realized he was glad.
She turned around to face him, so they were both lying on their sides, twin silhouettes in the darkness. The only thing that separated them was a shaft of moonlight slicing through the open window. Still, Watt waited. He refused to do this unless the first move came from her, no matter how crazy it was, no matter how crazy he was for wanting it.
Leda lifted her chin and planted a kiss on his lips, tentative, feather light.
Then she pulled back. “This still doesn’t mean anything, okay?” she whispered, and even though he couldn’t make out her expression, Watt could picture it—her brow furrowed in stubborn determination, and fierce pride.
“Of course. It means nothing,” Watt agreed, knowing full well that they were trading lies.