Page 42 of Bound By Stars
Smiling at Weslie, I answer, “Yes, ILSA.”
I offer my hand, and she works quickly, cleaning, spraying antiseptic, and then a numbing agent—thank the universe—from the nozzle in her palm.
Weslie steps back, her shoulders loosening as she watches her bot work exactly as she intended.
ILSA applies skin adhesive, then her supply compartment pops open, and she pulls out a roll of gauze, wrapping the wound. The entire process is done in under three minutes.
Damn, she’s impressive.
“Keep the area clean until fully healed. Recovery time estimate: two weeks. In the future, please exercise more caution while handling sharp instruments.” ILSA backs away, her face going neutral.
I hold out my bandaged hand. “I’d say that worked.”
“We could have just waited for someone to get sick or bump into something. You didn’t have to mutilate yourself!” She grabs my fingers and wrist, examining the wrapped wound. “At least it’s not your dominant hand.”
Warmth blooms in my chest. “You noticed I’m left-handed.”
She releases me, backs away, and hops onto the edge of a table. “You never stop drawing. Anyone who spends more than a minute around you would know that.”
“Weslie, this is a big deal.”
“I know, I actually fixed something. Now if she could just deliver a simple message, I’m golden.”
“No, not ILSA.”
She frowns at me like I’m not making sense.
“Wes, we might actually be friends.”
She meets my gaze for a beat before dropping her eyes and clearing her throat. “Hardly.”
“You know, it’s okay to admit you don’t hate me. I promise I won’t tell anyone.” I take a step closer. Dangerous territory, but the longer I’m around her the less I care.
“If only it were the truth.” But her voice is breathy. There’s none of that usual stubborn conviction in her words.
ILSA chimes in, “His heart rate and body temperature suggest he is being truthful to the best of his knowledge.”
“She’s insisting she still hates me, ILSA.” I carefully take Weslie’s hands. She doesn’t pull away, so I stare into her eyes like I’m searching for the lie. “But I thinkshe’sbeing dishonest.”
She freezes. I expect the usual rage, but her expression is gentle. Her lips part.
“Weslie’s elevated heart—”
“Okay, okay. You aren’t completely horrible,” she admits, tearing her hands away and blinking like she’s come out of a trance.
“I’ll take it.” I check my comm. It’s already six p.m. Dammit. “I have to go.”
“Right. Okay.” Weslie leaps off the table. “ILSA, close up.”
“Want to meet up after class tomorrow?”
“Okay.” She shrugs, but her smile looks more like a definitive yes.
I grab my stuff and head for the door. Pausing, I turn back to her. “Actually, I’m going to this thing later tonight. I was thinking, maybe…do you want to come?”
She twists her lips and raises an eyebrow.
“Maybe Asha already invited you…”
