“Fine,” I say. “I’m grossed out by feelings and not by sex. Whatever.”
“The question is why?”
I frown. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah, I’m actually asking.”
“Okay,” I say, looking up at the ceiling. “Let’s pose a hypothetical where we sleep together. That’s bad enough, right? It means that he can’t be trusted to approve projects, funding, so on…it means that he can no longer be impartial when it comes to anything regarding me working in his lab. We would have to keep it secret, and even then, I wouldn’t know if I could trust that he’s making choices because of the work, or because ofme.”
I pause.
“And if we wanted to start a relationship? It gets worse. Then maybe the university has to get involved…I might have to move to a different lab, even though all my work has been here. And he isthe best.I’m not going to find another bio-tech engineer who can do what he does. It’s not realistic. Not even really in the realm of possibility.”
Orin is quiet for a moment, then he exhales and passes me the joint again before stretching his arms behind his head.
“I think you need this more than I do,” he says.
I take a drag. “Yeah…I think so too.”
“Not for the reasons you think.”
I look at him.
“Lyn, this isn’t just in the realm of possibility at this point. It’s theonlypossibility.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re already planning around it,” he says. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have thought about all the what if’s like you have. You’ve considered your options…and it’s not just because of the orgasm thing either. You want to talk to him about it. You want to be in his bed. I mean—tell me you didn’t think about calling him before you called me.”
I scoff. “Orin, it’s not like that.”
“I’m not offended,” he says. “This thing between us? We’re friends, it’s cool. I’m not hurt. But I also am well aware there’s more to this than you’re letting on.”
“You’re drawing a hell of a lot of conclusions.”
“Because I know you.”
“And what if the feelings are because of the translator too?” I ask. “What if it’s all the translator and it’s going to fade and then…what if I fuck up my whole life all for an artificial attraction?”
“I think that’s the risk people take for love, right?” he shrugs. “Artificial or not.”
I scowl. “I’m not in love with him.”
“Not yet.”
I peer over at him, narrowing my eyes. “You know you’re very wise for a fuckboy.”
“I try.”
We lapse into silence again. The joint is nearly gone, burned down to its last few embers. I stub it out in an empty glass on the side table and let my head fall back again, staring at the ceiling like it might rearrange my neurons into something resembling order.
“Do you think it’ll fade?” I ask quietly. “The effect?”
Orin tilts his head toward me, thoughtful. “You said it’s neurological, right? Some kind of feedback loop?”
“Yeah. We think the translator rerouted certain signals—pain got refiled under arousal. But then…it got localized. Or personalized. And now it only seems to work whenhetouches me.”
“And you’re sure it’s not psychological?”
