Page 21 of Bound By Stars
“Give me a break. I see the way everyone treats you, JupiterDalloway.” I emphasize his last name. The name of one of only six corporations that own every bit of Earth and Mars and the space in between. Stepping closer, I stare back at him through slits. “You people think the universe is yours to command.”
He holds my gaze, eyes gentle, and shakes his head. “You don’t know anything about me.”
The sincerity in his voice makes my breath catch in my throat. He’s not what I expected.
“What are you doing back here?” A porter appears around the bend in the hallway.
We both leap back toward opposite walls.
I turn my face away, as if I could hide at this point. If we’re not allowed to be back here, only one of us is going to face consequences, and it’s not going to be the son of a Big Six family. Maybe I could run.
“All passengers have returned to their quarters,” the porter adds.
Wait.
All the tension melts from my body.
I know that voice.
Tilting his head, he squints like the dim light might be playing tricks on him. “Wes?”
I hadn’t imagined seeing him the day I boarded. His black hair is shorter than he usually keeps it. The uniform is new. But that familiar lopsided grin across his perfect face is a desperately needed piece of home.
Sprinting across the space between us, I crash into him and throw my arms around his neck. I cling to my best friend. Or, at least, the closest thing I have to one. “Reve! You’re here!”
He wraps his arms around my waist, lifting me off my toes. “I was hired on at the last minute. But forget about me.You’rehere. How the hell did that happen?”
As the homesickness recedes, warmth creeps up my neck into my cheeks. It’s been weeks since we’ve passed each other on the road between our houses. Longer since the last time we ran into each other in the orchard and spent half the night talking. Even longer since we intentionally spent time together. Not like when we were kids and we saw each other every day. He lowers me back down, and I drop my heels to the floor, pulling away.
He catches my hands. His black eyes glued to me.
Heat builds in my palms, and I pray they aren’t sweating. Before I can explain, someone coughs.
Glancing past me at Jupiter, Reve furrows his eyebrows for a fraction of a second before relaxing. His expression goes neutral. “I believe people are looking for you, Mr. Dalloway. Better head back.”
“Aye, aye.” Jupiter passes, saluting and meeting my eyes just long enough to chip another layer of my confidence away.
“I can’t believe you’re here.” Reve squeezes my hands tighter. The familiar lilt of an accent on the edge of each word sends me straight into the past.
The long days we spent running and playing tag in the orchards until the sun dipped low into the branches. Even when we got too old for games, we wandered through the wild oak trees or swam in the muddy lake that only lasted a couple months of the year at best. Then the dying light would guide us back to his house covered in a layer of copper dust. And his mother would sit with us, cutting fruit from their garden, juice running over her thick, olive-brown hands. Speaking half in Spanish and half in English, she’d insist we tell her every detail of our day.
He raises an eyebrow. “How’d you get yourself onto a ship like this, and in first class no less? Or did you sneak up here? Am I going to have to take you into custody and escort you back to the lower levels?”
He acts like nothing is different. Like we’re still kids. But everything changed after he started working nearly full time at the transport depot. After I started to think more about touching his face or running my hands through his thick black hair than hide-and-seek and orange slices. After his voice got deeper, and I stopped managing coherent thoughts around him. After my dad left, and I started spending more time with machines than people.
“No. I…ILSA. I won.” There it is. Awkwardness, my old friend.
“No shit? You’re the contest winner everyone’s talking about? I should have guessed. You’re the best damn engineer on Earth.”
Everyone? Fantastic. I point past him to ILSA, whose reprogramming to allow for emotionally driven changes in heart rate seems to have worked. Thank the universe.
“Stellar.” Reve releases me and takes the bot’s fingerless wedge of a hand. “Nice to meet you, ILSA.”
“My readings indicate Weslie feels positively about your presence, so it is nice to meet you, too.”
Okay…so the reprogrammingdidn’twork.
He laughs. “Oh yeah? What kind of readings?”
