I push a button, and the screen lights. I blink at it. I’d had the human servant download her requested entertainment, and it looks like one of the films is onscreen now.
An image of a dark-haired woman and a blond man takes up the screen. Neither of them are moving.
“What are you doing?” Grace demands. She’s still at the door, arms still crossed, cleavage still teasing me. Despite her harsh tone, she’s shifting, fingers digging into her elbows.
“What is this?” I return. I twist the computer until it’s facing her. “What are you watching?”
“It’s calledShe’s All That.” Grace steps toward me, still glaring but seemingly unable to resist. “Have you seen it?”
“I’ve never seen a movie, Grace,” I say. “No one in the Echo has seen it. We don’t have time to sit around, watching stupid shows.”
I realize a moment too late that I’ve snapped at her. Apparently, I’m not only out of practice with kindness, I’m also bad at it. I open my mouth to apologize, but nothing comes out.
Luckily, Grace doesn’t break down. She glares a little harder, but steps closer. She’s on the opposite side of her bed now, separated from me by this flimsy mattress.
“You’ve never seen a movie,” she repeats. “Well, no wonder you’re all in such terrible moods all the time. Movies arehealing.”
I work my jaw. I want to say something kind, but everything coming to mind is either rude or fucking mean.
I click a random letter on the computer, hoping to start the movie. Instead, it makes a loud pinging noise at me.
“Here,” she says. She swats my hand out of the way, clicking a button I hadn’t noticed.
Before I can feel annoyed, the movie starts. I blink at the screen. The brunette woman and blond man are moving now, as if by magic. The colors and sounds are human-like, and yet, slightly different. Distorted, if only slightly. I squintat the moving picture, feeling an unexpected pinch of nausea.
“And this is a romantic comedy,” I say. I barely register what the characters are doing. “These two are going to fuck?”
A startled laugh bursts from Grace’s mouth. Despite everything else, it’s a pleasant sound. I lean closer without deciding to.
“Well, these two aren’t,” she says. “Actually, nothing like that happens at all. It’s not pornography. It’s a 90s movie. A rom-com. You know, boy meets girl. Girl is unexpectedly charming. Boy falls head over heels. Boy inevitably messes everything up, but the girl loves him anyway.”
I glance from her to the screen.
I’m trying to understand the nonsense that just came from her mouth when she pauses it again. Now, the screen is on a dark-haired guy, his features blurred, frozen in time.
“Why are you here, Sebastian?” she asks.
I’d had a simple plan when I knocked on Grace’s door. I was going to offer a new agreement, something that benefited both of us, something that made her trust me and believe I wasn’t going to decapitate her once I got what I wanted.
Now, I’m stuck staring at the screen, words caught in my throat.
“Sebastian,” she says. Her voice is clipped, demanding.
“Who’s this guy?” I ask, nodding to the dark-haired man on the screen. “He looks pissed. Is he about to break up the other two?”
Even with my eyes on the screen, I can feel Grace watching me. She lets out an irritated huff before dropping onto her bed. Folding her long legs beneath her, she rests the computer on her lap.
“Thisis Zach,” she says. “He’s the heart throb. The one we’re rooting for. The dumb boy who loves Laney, and who Laney loves, even though she’s obviously too good for him.”
I swallow.
“Laney,” Grace says, only to pause. She taps a few buttons, and the screen again changes. We’re back to moments earlier, with the brunette girl standing with the blond man. She taps a finger to the screen. “Laney is the main girl. She’s far too good for Zach, but we let it slide ‘cause he’s good-looking and itwasthe nineties.”
“And that guy?” I ask, gesturing to the blond.
Grace studies me again, as if checking to see if I’m fucking with her. Then she’s locked back on the screen.
“That’s Dean,” she says. “And honestly, he’s just an asshole.”
