"Um." He racked his brain desperately. "Something with... explosions?"
"Nope! Good guess, but no. Try again."
What else did humans find entertaining? "A documentary about soil composition?"
Goldie stared at him for a beat, then let out a delighted laugh. "Oh, you are a precious, precious creature. No."
"Goldie."
"Fine." She sighed dramatically, then broke into a wicked grin. "It'sInvasion of the Body Snatchers! I chose it just for you! If you've never seen it, it's a classic. Plant people! Inpods! Taking over the Earth! You can tell me how accurate or inaccurate it is."
Splice went very still.
Goldie’s smile faltered, replaced by a flash of horror. "Is that offensive? Did I just racially profile you? Oh, Splice, I'm sorry if I?—"
"No," he said, and the word was a strangled thing. "I just..." He struggled for a word that could encompass the strange, warm expansion in his chest. "It's… fine."
She chose a movie about plant people just for me.
The movie started, eerie music swelling as the opening credits rolled. The tension, thick and uncertain a moment ago, dissolved into the simple, domestic sound of the film. Goldie grabbed the popcorn bowl from the table and held it out to him. He took a small handful, the salty kernels feeling foreign in his palm.
She settled cross-legged on the couch, hugging the bowl to her chest as her eyes, already wide and luminous in the dim light, glued themselves to the screen. Maeve appeared from nowhere to press against Goldie’s side with a proprietary rumble, while Oberon, with a flick of his dark tail, claimed the space on the back of the couch directly behind Splice's shoulder.
Splice found his own gaze fixed not on the television, but on Goldie. The way she unconsciously tucked a stray strand of coppery hair behind her ear. The way she absently munched popcorn while her brows knitted in concentration. She was so intensely alive, so vibrantly present in this small, quiet moment, that the weight of the world faded into a distant, muffled hum.
"You're not watching," she murmured, her voice a low counterpoint to the film's tense score. She didn't take her eyes off the screen, where a man in a trenchcoat was discovering suspicious-looking pods in a greenhouse.
Splice did not want to look away from the woman curled up beside him, but he obeyed, dutifully turning his gaze to thetelevision. On screen, the protagonist was growing increasingly paranoid as his friends and neighbors were replaced by emotionless duplicates.
The popcorn in his hand fell to the couch cushions as he tried to focus on the plot. But his senses were traitorously attuned to her. The soft sound of her breathing, and the way it seemed to sync with the film's rhythm. The way she unconsciously leaned closer to him during the moments of rising tension.
This, he realized with a feeling that was equal parts wonder and terror, was what humans calledintimacy.
The movie ended in a crescendo of paranoid tension and alien revelation, the credits rolling over a final, chilling shot of the male protagonist’s distorted, screaming face.
Goldie turned to him, the spell of the film broken. "So? What did you think? Accurate representation of plant-based entities taking over the world?"
Splice considered this with gravity. "Their approach was unbelievable," he said finally. "True integration requires patience. Like ivy on an old wall. It doesn’t tear down the brick; it becomes part of it, slowly, until you can’t remove one without destroying the other. It takes time."
Goldie burst out laughing, the sound bright and infectious in the small space. She playfully flicked a half-popped kernel of popcorn at him, which bounced off his chest. "You're such a dork. I love it."
For a moment, he just looked at her, this creature of impossible brightness. He did not entirely understand the joke, but he understood the warmth that her laughter sent through him, a feeling as real and physical as sunlight on a leaf.
With a final, happy sigh, she clicked the television off, plunging the room into a softer dimness lit only by the glow of the city outside. She stood and stretched with a languid grace that made the vines on his arms stir.
"Right. Time to get this show on the road." She gathered the empty popcorn bowl from the table. "I'm taking a sleeping pill and calling it a night."
She padded toward the bedroom, pausing in the doorway to look back at him, a silhouette against the hall light. "You'll be okay out here?"
Splice nodded, settling deeper into the cushions. "I’ll be fine."
"Good." She hesitated, her hand resting on the doorframe, a flicker of something unsaid in her expression. But then she simply smiled, a softer, more tired version of her earlier grin. "Goodnight, Splice."
"Goodnight, Goldie."
The bedroom door clicked shut. He was alone with the quiet hum of the apartment, the scent of her, and the unsettling, undeniable feeling of anticipation.
Chapter
