Page 51 of Trove’s Purpose

The streets weren’t paved but bricked. And the bricks were a pale, calm blue that wasn’t stained with oil or tire marks. There were no gum or scuffs stained into the sidewalks. There were bright ads, but there were even brighter people. Lots of natives, of course, with their skin from pink to maroon to purple, and their bright, glowing hair membranes. But there were also tons of aliens – furry and scaley, bright and dark, covering all the spectrums.

“Look there,” Trove said, pointing.

She followed his finger, turning to look at a tall, almost egg-shaped building. The windows had a golden tint and were placed so they appeared to be spiraling up the side of the building. The building was topped not with an antenna but instead with a large, golden statue of a nude, winged female, standing feet together, arms out, palms toward the sky. Most impressively, however, was the long scarves of fabric depicted swirling around her, spreading out in the air in a way that seemed to defy gravity. As their hover – piloted by Sway – drove down the street, the statue turned and shined in the light.

“That’s the headquarters for Vaulted Trade,” Trove told her. “Where the owner of Hyde’s cup lives and works.”

“Oh,” Chee breathed, looking the building over again.

“What do they do?” Garnet asked.

“It’s a trading company. They specialize in rare, exotic, and expensive items. The owner doesn’t just collect them. It’s not really the kind of place you ‘shop’ at. Their only clientele are going to be very wealthy and well connected. That being said, if you are wealthy enough to be a customer of theirs, there’s nothing they can’t get you.”

“Nothing?” Chee repeated.

Trove pursed his lips in a very stern, very fake expression. “Oh, only within the bounds of the law, of course.”

“Of course,” she nodded along, understanding completely.

In other words, whatever delights an uber rich might want, from a custom bed frame to elicit, designer drugs – anything was available through that company.

“Our appointment is tomorrow,” Grace said from the seats across from them. “So, we have all of tonight to enjoy the city.”

The rented hover had the seats all along the edges instead of in neat rows, so that they could all look at and talk to each other without needing to strain their necks. Their luggage was set between their legs. Maybe not the most efficient use of space, but she was honestly more impressed that she wasn’t getting car sick – hover sick? – from riding sideways. Was that design or accident?

Before she could ask, Sway was pulling them in front of the inn. Modest but clean and still pretty, it was the same kind of cost range that she would choose on Earth if she was picking a hotel.

Chee let Trove help her down off the back of the hover. That was just polite of him, and it was a big step for her to take alone. Aliens were, on average, taller than humans, and thus the steps they built for themselves were larger as well. If she had to choose between taking his hand or falling dramatically, stereotypically into his arms, it wasn’t that much of a sacrifice to put her hand in his.

He had callouses on his hands. He used weapons so frequently, the proof of it was in the marks on his skin. Warm, slightly rough, but stable and confident as he helped her down. She could still feel his touch even after he let her go. Once again, not at all pushing or pressing for more. He was a consummate gentleman.

It would be easier if he was pushing. If he was such a horndog that he just couldn’t stop himself from flirting or insinuating for more, she could write him off. She could tell herself that he was disrespectful of her rejection.

But no. He was a nice guy. He wasn’t forceful or imposing at all. Even the smile he granted her was exactly how it had always been. Happy and friendly. He wasn’t showing her any longing or sorrow at her rejection. He wasn’t bitter or displeased. He accepted this distance between them and treated her the same as anyone else.

It was exactly what she wanted.

And still broke her heart just a little bit more.

Grace had rented six rooms for them in total, all on the same floor, in the same hall. The bachelors, Sorbet, Tebros, and Rok, were sharing a room. There was one room each for the couples. Then, one room for Chee and one for Trove.

Chee was really grateful for the chance to be alone. She shut the door behind her, letting out a long breath of relief. Trove had brought her bag to her room and, again being more considerate than she ever would have expected, set it just inside the door. He didn’t even step past the threshold.

It hurt how nice he was. How good. Weren’t playboys supposed to have no concept of personal space or boundaries?

Shutting the door behind her, collapsing onto her bed, she could just relax into the sheets and try to talk herself out of giving him another chance. His being a decent person did not fix all the fundamental problems that existed between them.

Once her head was screwed back on right and she’d talked herself off the edge, she forced herself up and took a shower. She wasn’t sure what she washed with, because it wasn’t water. It cleaned her body without her needing to use soap, lathering only slightly, leaving a scent behind that, once again, her nose couldn’t identify but brought to her mind the idea of clean linen, fresh cotton, and cashmere. She had no idea what these people used for soap, but she could use it as straight perfume. The not-water also evaporated very quickly, so by the time she walked from the bathroom, her skin was dry and her hair was barely damp. She was running her fingers through it, getting out the bulk of the tangles, marveling again at the not-water because it had conditioned and moisturized her whole body.

She pulled on her plain old Earth underwear. A simple pair of faded black panties and a bra that had been her companion for a few years.

Then she hesitated, looking at what she had packed. Because she brought both her baggy, familiar Earth clothes, and the pretty, alien clothes that Trove had brought her. She hadn’t actually tried them on at all. The only time she had ‘worn’ them was in the try-on mirror. He’d bought her everything he had her try on, and a few other things besides. And though she hadn’t tried them in real life, she trusted his choices after seeing how well he did. Meanwhile, she knew her old clothes were comfortable and they did fit her well, even if not prettily,

Two completely different outfits.

Why did it feel suddenly more important than just choosing what to wear?

She reached for her baggy clothes, then hesitated, her eyes going to the blue skirt. The one made of soft, almost imperceptible scales with an iridescent shine.