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Why are relationships with a friend so damn hard? It should be easier than dating a stranger, but it’s not.
“Maybe you need to flirt with him tonight,” I offer to Dopekh. “Make sure his head doesn’t get turned.”
“It’s not that,” Dopekh says glumly. “He’s offered to be exclusive but I turned him down.”
Er, what? That doesn’t track at all. “You did?!”
He nods, looking sad and thoughtful. “He’s so new to everything. He had very little life experience when he was a gladiator. Now that he’s experiencing the wider universe, I don’t want to hold him back. So it’s better for everyone if we just, I dunno, circle back in a few years and see if we’re still interested.”
“Riiiight.” That sounds like a horrible idea, but I don’t say that aloud. I’m fairly inexperienced with this end of the universe myself. What if Kazex is trying to give me space so he doesn’t “hold me back”?
Now I’m just as depressed as Dopekh.
We’re both quiet as we head into town, no doubt both preoccupied with our relationship problems. It’s easy to find the rest of the crew, as there’s currently only one place in town to eat (other than the baking cart that drives Ruth-Ann so crazy). There’s a small cantina run by aliens that serves alien food in greasy little plas-containers and sells drinks. I don’t hang out there much because I’m much more comfortable on the ship, surrounded by people I know.
Tonight, though, all the people I know are out to have a good time. The tiny cantina is packed the moment I step inside. There’s a stink of old frying oil in the air, followed by the scent of beer. Most of the people inside the cantina are from the ship, but I notice there’s a few dockworkers, too. Praxiian ones. They’re talking with both Salvotor and Ruth-Ann, and it’s clear they’re very interested in Ruth-Ann, who isn’t interested in the slightest. Salvotor gestures wildly, telling one of his gladiator stories. I nudge Dopekh their way, but he shakes his head and goes to the bar instead.
I head for the bar, too, but I’m looking for someone specific. Someone with tattoos on the side of his face and a smile just for me. For a small place, it’s crowded. I squeeze in next to Aithar and Dopekh and touch the greasy bar-top, looking around as the alien bartender pours drinks at the other end of the bar.
“Ruthie!” An arm slings around my neck, and Erzah leans on me, drunk. “This is the best day of my life!”
Laughing, I pat his back. “Congratulations. I’m really happy for you.”
“Have you tried the fried leaves here? They’re terrible!” His voice is loud—overly so— and the bartender shoots us a nasty look. Erzah doesn’t notice, though. “And this drink is watery! Everything here is so overpriced, too!”
“You seem thrilled by all of this.”
“I am! It means we will be a success without even trying!” He beams. “This is amazing. Do you want a drink? It’s on me.”
I wince when he shouts in my ear. Erzah is a loud drunk. “One of the watered-down drinks, you mean?”
“Yes! One of those! And some of the terrible fried leaves!” He squeezes my shoulder with enthusiasm. “It is the worst food I have had across three stations! We will be rich!”
A giggle escapes me and I slide out from under his arm before the bartender decides he should spit in my drink as revenge for Erzah’s unflattering shouting. “I’m not thirsty just yet, thank you. Have you seen Kaz?”
“He’s waiting for you.” He takes a chug of his drink and then looks around the room, searching for Kazex. “I think he’s hiding.”
“He’s not hiding.” I pat his back. “I’ll go find him. Maybe slow it down on the alcohol.”
“Maybe,” he agrees cheerfully and then takes another fierce chug from his drink.
I move away from him, scanning the room. Sure enough, at a booth in the very back of the place, Kazex sits alone. There’s a full drink across from him and a half-empty one in front of him. I take a step in his direction and our eyes meet.
He smiles.
My heart flutters.
My nipples grow tight, and the pierced one sends another shockwave of pleasure through my body. Time feels as if it slows down as I approach him, his smile growing wider and warming my heart. He gazes up at me as I stand in front of the table and gesture at the drink across from him. “This seat taken?”
“I was holding it for you.” He reaches over and pulls the full drink to his side, indicating I should join him on the same seat at the booth.
I slide in next to him, tempted to press up against him and see how he reacts. But I just nudge the drink and glance around at the noisy cantina. “You’re not partying with the others?”
