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Clearly no one expects a sweet Bethiah at dinner. That makes me all the more determined to be as charming as can be, just so they’re off-guard.
“Well, Dora, my fluffit,” I say as I turn away from Jamef. “You set this up. How do you want this to go?”
She clasps her hands together, looking delighted. “I made a casserole.”
“A what?” Jamef asks. He puts a hand on the small of my back—and I don’t hate it—and pulls out my chair. He moves to Dora’s side, leans down to kiss her cheek, and then pulls her chair out as well.
“It’s a human dish with noodles and a sauce, and you bake it,” she says enthusiastically. “I took some of your dried veg and added them to it, but I skipped the meat since I wasn’t sure if you both ate it or not.” She sits down and picks up the bottle and starts to pour a bit into the first glass. “And this drink you suggested smells heavenly, Jamef.”
I take one of the glasses and smell the contents. It’s a fermented fruit drink that’s popular in a lot of the station slums. Smells great, though, and I take a sip. Strong, too.
“Should we do a toast?” Dora asks, handing a glass to Jamef and then taking one for herself. “To us?”
“To us,” I agree, holding up my drink when she does.
Jamef’s eyeing me as if he doesn’t trust my agreeability, which just makes me smile wider.
I take another sip and then set it down and beam at Dora. “Shall we eat? I’m starving.”
Thirty-Eight
JAMEF
Bethiah is being sweet and accommodating at dinner, chatting with Dora about the blaster she’s resizing for her and the weapon lessons she intends to give her. She eats the horrendous casserole and sips her drink, acting like she’s having a wonderful time on our “date.”
I don’t trust it.
I know Bethiah put her foot down about the date being on ship. I should have known that suggesting a date was another stall tactic on Bethiah’s behalf. She could wait until we were at the next station, and then stall again because they were too busy, or it wasn’t safe, or some other excuse. Knowing Bethiah, the date would have never happened, but Dora took over and we’re having it now.
Dora’s more crafty than I give her credit for. Behind that sweet expression is a core of steel, and it makes me smile as I lift my drink to my lips.
“Do you like dinner?” Dora asks me, her smile wide. “You’re barely eating.”
Under the table, Bethiah gives my booted foot a kick with her bare one, though her smile remains. “It’s delicious, fluffit.”
I actually don’t like the dinner. The noodles have a strange consistency and an even stranger sauce on them. But Dora’s looking at me for encouragement and it’s clear Bethiah wants me to pretend it’s amazing. So I take a bite, forcing myself to chew. “Very nutritious.”
“It’s a human thing, I think. Casserole.” She toys with her eating sticks, poking at the noodles. “I’ve never seen it out here, but my memories might be failing me. You guys are more into soup, right?”
“We like it because you made it, fluffit. Are you enjoying your date?” Bethiah’s tone turns sultry.
Dora gives us a shy smile. “I’m liking that we have a chance to get to know each other better. You’re both a little quieter than I expected, though.”
Bethiah kicks me under the table again.
Am I supposed to come up with something to say? A topic for discussion? My mind goes blank. I’m not used to entertaining. I keep to myself, and my interactions with people tend to be me lurking in the background, watching them go about their lives. “Ah…perhaps you should pick the topic, sweetheart. Bethiah and I are unfamiliar with dating.”
Dora takes a sip of her drink, and her face grows flushed. The fruit brew is rather potent, but maybe that’s part of the dating experience? I just hope she doesn’t get too drunk too fast. “I have a better idea,” Dora tells me. “Let’s play a game.”
“A game, you say?” Bethiah asks. “What sort of game?”
The human taps her lip with her fingers, thinking. “We could play a drinking game?”
I shake my head. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Bethiah can’t hold her drink.”
Bethiah snorts, but she doesn’t kick me under the table. Instead, she reaches out and touches Dora’s hand. “Can we play something that doesn’t involve drinks?”
“We could play truth or dare.” Dora takes another drink and then frowns to herself. “Except I know how this is going to go. Jamef is gonna be truth every time and Bethiah will be dare.”
“Maybe I’ll pick something different if you tell me how the game is played,” I say, using the excuse to push my uneaten food aside. “Tell us the rules.”
