“Already nixing it?”
“Well, yes,” she says. “Because this isn’t business, Lyn. Youlike him.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine. Option two…purple dress. Pretty. Not me at all, but verygirl who has a very grown-up boyfriend.Maybe trying to measure up to his ex. Probably failing because she’s gorgeous.”
“Sounds like another no to me.”
“Great,” I mutter. “So we’ve eliminated ‘emotionally constipated adjunct’ and ‘backup singer in my own life.’ That leaves…option three.”
“Which is?”
“That orange romper I wear when we have girls’ night with Page.”
“Oh, duh. That one.”
I blink. “That was fast.”
“You actually like that one,” she says. “Out of all three, it’s the only thing I’ve ever actually seen you wear.”
“But shouldn’t I wear something fancy?”
“Is it putting too much pressure on you to think you should wear something fancy?”
I pause. “Touché.”
She makes a confused sound in the back of her throat. “...touchy?”
I laugh, leaning forward to pick up the romper, to take a closer look and experiment with how it might feel to wear it tonight. “Sorry. You’re such a good friend I forget you’re an alien sometimes.”
I can practicallyhearher blush. “To me,you’rethe alien,” she laughs.
“Yeah, but you’re the one with the cultural competency badge,” I say, holding the romper up to myself in the mirror. “Okay, hypothetically…if this goes well, what does that even mean? In Nyeri’i terms. Human terms I get. You date, you see how it goes. Nyeri’i terms sound like ‘hey, meet my kid and my terrifyingly competent ex the same day we decide to stop sneaking around.’”
Thalara hums thoughtfully. “In Nyeri’i terms, it means he is taking you seriously.”
I look at my reflection, at the riot of orange in my hands. “That’s what scares me.”
“I know,” she says. “But it also means he trusts you. He’s letting you see the part of his life that matters most, and he’s giving you a chance to decide if you want to be part of it.”
“I don’t deserve that,” I blurt before I can stop myself.
There’s a quiet inhale on the line. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t even know if this is real.” The words come out in a rush. “Because my brain is soup and my body is glitching and I might wake up in a week and realize that this was all just one long, extremely horny lab accident.”
“Lyn,” she says, very gently. “You are the one who just said you were more afraid of hurting them than losing your work. That doesn’t sound like a lab accident to me.”
I glance at the clock. I really need to get changed and go…just to be brave and do the damn thing. But I have one more thing I need to get off my chest.
“I think this would be easier if it were more alien,” I finally say. “If he was like…you know, a psychic like Page had, like he could read my mind. Or if he was some big burly Skoll who was just like—you mate, me marry you. But he’s just…a good guy who’s way too good for me, and who wants me to be part of his life. Why is that scarier than the psychic vampire or the alien barbarian?”
She pauses. I can picture her sitting at her desk, chewing on a pencil…giving my interpersonal bullshit just as much attention as her galactic-class research. “I think it’s because…he requires you to participate. To say what you want. To risk disappointing him. To risk being known.”
My chest goes tight in a different way than before. Less panic, more…oh shit.
“I don’t know if I can do that,” I whisper.
“I think you already are,” she says gently. “You told him you wanted him. You told me you are afraid of hurting his family. You are calling your friend before you go, instead of pretending you aren’t scared. That all sounds very…participatory to me.”
