Her expression is carefully schooled, and it’s even somewhat convincing. Her eyes are guarded, her mouth relaxed, her brow inquisitive.
“I know what that looked like—”
Marlowe holds up a hand. “Let me stop you there. You don’t need to explain yourself.”
“I’m explaining the situation because you misread it.”
“I misread it?” She echoes, voice rising. “I misread you in the pool with a naked woman, laughing and joking and posed just so?”
“Yes.”
Marlowe barks in laughter and shakes her head vigorously. “No, I’m not doing this.”
With a firm hand, I manage to stop the door from closing, then step inside after her. She narrows her eyes but moves back to let me in. This close, she smells like the shampoo I gave her because she liked the scent.
Before I can say anything, she continues. “We don’t owe each other anything at all. It doesn’t matter whether I misread the situation or not. Kit told me you were swimming. I thought I’d meet you there, and we could do a few laps together. I should have asked. I’m not even jealous, I just—”
“What do you mean, we don’t owe each other anything at all?”
She jerks like I’ve said something incomprehensible. “We’ve slept together twice; it’s not a big deal.”
Tellurians and their misguided notions of intimacy. I sigh, take her by the hand and pull her towards the sofa. She only sits after I fix her with a deadpan stare, and I take the seat next to her.
“Is this a ‘just sex’ talk?” I ask.
Her glare could level cities. “What?”
I explain. She looks sceptical, but I continue, hoping to convey the differences in our cultures. “I think we owe each other a lot, actually: respect, time, understanding, appreciation.”
“After only two occasions?”
“I’m having a hard time understanding the significance of... the number of times.” I frown.
Only then does something like a smile curl the corner of Marlowe’s mouth. She shakes her head. “Never mind. Must be a Tellurian thing.”
“To never communicate? I agree.”
“Hey!” But Marlowe isn’t angry. She reaches towards me and runs her fingers through my loose waves, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. It takes a lot to stop myself from turning my face into the warmth of her palm. I want us to talk about this.
“I like you. I like spending time with you, and I don’t want that to change. Now can I tell you why I was in the pool with a naked woman, laughing and joking and posed just so?”
The hand disappears. A cushion flies towards my head. Even though she laughs, there’s uncertainty in her gaze. “I don’t think you should. I know what you said, and I get it, but... I don’t know. It might be that we have sex and enjoy each other’s company, but soon, we’ll part ways. We’ll probably never see each other again.”
My stomach clenches. “Is that what you want?”
Marlowe looks away, biting her lip. “Tee, I like you, too, but I’m only on this ship because I’m never going to let Vee’s father use him as a pawn in this game. When we land at Red Horizon, I’ll tell Dominik that and turn right back around. I can’t think much beyond that.”
I try to swallow, but my throat feels like sandpaper. “We’re going to be making a stop before Mars. Would it not be betterfor us to drop you off at the waystation instead? That way, you can head straight home.”
She pauses to think about it.
“No. I want to face him. I’m going to make him take me seriously. This was the last straw, Tanisira. Besides, I don’t want to get the crew in trouble. If the ship docks and Vee isn’t on it, there’ll be hell to pay.”
“Nothing happened,” I say to her, needing to put it out there. “My people just don’t care about nudity, and apparently neither does Liz.”
Marlowe shakes her head a little. “I know. I just… sometimes I get this intense reaction to anything that seems like rejection. It’s so stupid. It’s so irrational.”
I don’t comment, because I can only imagine—based on snippets of her life—where it came from, and I’m hardly one to talk about healthy coping mechanisms.
