“They weren’t my responsibility. That’s just the way the world works,” he says, repeating the line his father said to him throughout his childhood when he had similar questions.
He remembers the first time it really stuck in his mind. His nanny had taken him to a friend’s birthday party held at the pool of one of the boutique hotels his family owned. He’d seen his mother get into the elevator with a man he didn’t recognize, who drew her close before the door closed. James asked his father about it. He said he knew about her arrangement and explained that sometimes people like them had different types of relationships with different people. He and his mother went through life as partners, but other relational transactions that James would learn about when he was older might take place outside the marriage. Granted, as he got older and came to understand what precisely his father meant, he thought he may prefer not to share his wife when he got one. But at the time James pressed, still not understanding, until his father told him with finality, “That’s just the way the world works.” When that appeared to providea sufficient explanation, the phrase gained traction in their father-son talks.
It doesn’t seem to have the same effect on Kate. In fact, her cheeks have blossomed an ominous shade of pink. “Well, James Fletcher, that isn’t how the world works anymore. If you can’t figure that out quickly, you’re going to get recycled.” Her mouth snaps shut, but not before a gasp escapes. She slaps a hand over her mouth as though she’s surprised herself with her biting words. It almost makes him grin, but he holds it in. Her hand falls limply to her side. “See, this is why I didn’t want to discuss this.”
He shakes his head. “It’s fine. I deserved that.”
Jett is right—Kate is special. A truly good person, which makes him look especially muddy. Would she have taken the time to find a solution for the elderly tenants? Undoubtedly, yes. She is helping him out of the goodness of her heart, for fuck’s sake. He didn’t even give the elderly tenants a second thought. He just assumed they’d figure it out, but what if they didn’t have the resources, as she suggested? Shifting, he rubs a hand across the back of his neck. But wouldn’t it have been worse to leave the elderly tenants in a problematic facility? Surely someone helped them.
It isn’t as though he is monstrous, as Borne suggested. It’s just that he isn’tnotmonstrous. James falls somewhere in the middle. Some undefined gray area.
But if this is what she thinks of him . . . How is her opinion, more than that of any of his former critics, making him question things? Or is it everything that has happened in the past week since he awoke in the future?
During his time, he was a determined man marching toward a clear objective. Waking up in the future, he just assumed he’d carry on in the same vein. Double down. Make it twice. But now he isn’t so sure. It’sas if some cosmic force is presenting him with a different challenge. Only he’s clueless about what it might be.
She turns to walk away, but he calls, “Kate.”
She glances back, and the way she’s looking at him, like her anger toward him has transformed into something more like pity, makes his chest clench.
She stares straight into his eyes and says, “You could choose to be better this time around if you wanted to.”
Does progress have no value anymore? In the future, does building things not matter? Outside the window—particle panes, he corrects—several SATs zip by. When Kate got home from searching, she must not have bothered setting them to a scene like she normally would. The SATs and the smog-filled air serve as a reminder of how different the future is from his time. Look what progress has earned humanity. Even if he argued for it, she would never see what he spent his life doing in a positive light.
When he turns back to her, she’s studying him again. Does she really believe he can become something more? Someone better? Does he want to? Does he need to change? Or will these realizations brought on by his shocking arrival in the future fade with the progression of time until he no longer remembers or cares? And what does the woman walking away from him have to do with it?
A part of him thinks the answer isEverything.
Before Kate steps inside her bedroom, she hesitates. Like she’s waiting for him to tell her he’ll try. Or say what she read was a lie. He’s sure it’s all true, but truths have different lenses. Different colors and shades depending on who you are and how you see the world. Yet to her, it doesn’t excuse his selfishness, thoughtlessness, or ruthless drive. Traits the evidence suggests he has. Traits she clearly sees as faults. Enough to dislike him.
He hates these new and unwanted realizations and the feelings they bring up, but he hates that she doesn’t like him more. It seems so silly, so juvenile. Likability wasn’t ever his top priority, yet he’s unknowingly given this woman some mystical power over him. He cares what she thinks. Wants her to like him. He hates that, too. But it can’t be helped. It just is.
The James of the future is becoming a foreign creature to himself.
He approaches her slowly. Drawn to her. Unable to stop himself. Stupid kiss. He runs the calluses of his fingertips up her bare arms. Relishes her shiver. He won’t lie to her and tell her he’ll be better when he doesn’t know if he can, but maybe he can convince her there are other things about him to like. With a confidence he doesn’t feel, he asks, “Do you want me to be better?”
“There are so many articles about you. They can’t all be wrong,” she whispers, turning. Her gaze feels like a careful inspection. Like James is the particle under the microscope of her judgment.
His jaw hardens.You can’t believe them, he wants to tell her.I’m not that bad.But he can’t say the words because they feel too close to a lie. If only he could offer her some evidence.
By now, any residual alcohol in his body has dissipated enough that he feels in control of his own actions. His fingers continue to trace a path up and down her arms. Maybe he could be good for her in a different way. He knows what he wants, and he thinks she wants it too, despite herself. The day has been long, and they are both tired. His defenses are low, and he doesn’t have the energy to ignore his desire to be near her. His need for her that’s been there since the moment he opened his eyes.
He reaches up, brushing his knuckles across her flushed cheek. “Do you think I’m a bad man, Kate?”
Stepping closer, he waits for her answer.Say no, and I’ll kiss you.Say no, and I promise, I’ll please you.Maybe he can become a little less gray for her.
“I’m not sure what to think,” she admits.
He considers it a half win. It’s better than a yes, so he takes it. He’ll kiss her anyway. Her gaze drops to his lips as her warm palms press against his chest. He knows what she’s thinking because he’s thinking it too. Placing a hand over hers, he braces his other on the wall next to her face.
“Let me give you a reason to like me.” He allows the heat coursing through his body to fill his stare. Electricity crackles between them, intensifying as her hands fist in his shirt. She’s perfectly still as he leans forward. Their lips brush, and she sucks in a sharp breath.
As her head tilts, giving him better access to her mouth, she whimpers, “James.” It’s the prettiest sound he’s ever heard. “This isn’t going to make me like you.”
He grins at the weak protest. He’ll get her to like him, eventually. A challenge for another day. She’s given him hope.
Their first kiss, like the gentle one now, was a cosmic shift. With every brush of their lips, something awful is happening in his chest. He ignores the wild thumping. His heart isn’t going to fail. He wills it to beat rationally. It’s only another kiss.
“Kate,” he returns on a rough breath. “I don’t need you to like me right now. We’ll get to that. Just focus on kissing me.” She moans into his mouth, melting into him.
