Page 22 of Bound By Stars
“Nothing!” I jump between them and clear my throat. “She still has a lot of bugs to work out. No idea what she’s talking about.”
That damn lopsided smile is back.
“My readings indicate that your temperature—”
“Shut up, ILSA.” Excuse me while I step into the airlock and launch myself into space.
The white star pin on his vest glows, and he touches his ear. “They need me back. See you around the ship, Wes.”
“Okay,” is all I can manage, still cringing.
Reve turns down the hall. Without glancing back, he calls, “Let’s talk again soon, ILSA. Love to hear more about those readings.”
“Don’t. You. Dare,” I say under my breath.
Chapter Nine
Jupiter
Thirty-four days to Mars
“Welcome, passenger #374. Begin warm-up.”The treadmill moves slowly under my feet, easing me into a quick walking pace, while Curran begins in a full jog beside me.
In the corner of the busy gym, a red-faced guy grunts out reps on the weight bench while the mullet-ed woman spotting him shouts encouragement in Russian over the chorus of panting runners.
Behind them, the gym door slides open and Weslie steps inside. Her gaze passes over the row of treadmills, all in use—aside from the one beside me. She deflates.
I turn back to the wall-size window displaying an unchanging view of far-off stars and planets. The way she’s been avoiding me since Calypso paired us up on her project, I imagine she just turned around and left.
“Calibrating…” the machine beside me announces, welcoming Weslie.Passenger #2037.She starts jogging in a steady rhythm, staring out into space, seemingly oblivious to anything else happening in the room.
Is this good luck or bad? She can’t avoid me here at least.
My machine notifies me of a speed increase.
I try to catch her eye, but she stares forward like she’s shut off her peripheral vision.
“Do you run on Earth?” I have to speak louder than usual over the collective hum of the machines, pounding of feet, and the Russian weightlifter, who’s now growling through the last of his reps.
Weslie’s expression stays flat and focused. I may as well not exist.
On my other side, Curran shrugs.
I settle into a light jog, rifling through possible conversation starters. I don’t know anything about this girl other than the fact that she’s from Earth, she built an incredible bot, and she doesn’t seem to like me.
“Where’s ILSA?” I try again.
“Am I giving off some kind of friendly vibe? Maybe I’m not frowning enough because of the endorphins, but I was really going for disinterested and unapproachable,” she says with the rhythm of her strides, keeping her eyes trained on the star-filled window in front of her.
“I think you nailed it.” There’s a laugh in Curran’s voice.
For an Earther and the highest-born Big Six heir, my best friend and Weslie have more in common than they’d think. Curran can be just as difficult when he doesn’t want to talk. When something bothers him, he shuts out the world. But growing up around his father, I can understand why. After his mom died, his dad went on like nothing happened. And Curran’s always been expected to deal with everything with the same stoic resolve. Like emotions are an inconvenience. Like if he keeps everything to himself, nothing can ever really hurt him. And I’ve had plenty of experience breaking down walls.
I try again. “I didn’t mean to bother you—”
“And yet, here you go.”
On either side of me, both of them are in a full run with straight backs, relaxed hands, and long strides, while I struggle to adjust to my treadmill’s speed increase. My lungs burn, making my words spaced out and breathy. “But Calypso…is pretty set…on us working together.”
