“So, Katie, where are you from, why did you join the Navy?” I ask while waving my eel skin hand roll before taking a bite.

“Isn’t this something you’re supposed to do before you have sex with someone?” She stares into my eyes while grinning and popping a tidy roll of tuna in her mouth. It feels like she’s trying to tell me her plans for the day and I flush in my face and flutter in my belly.

“Well, I shared my half, and then someone expertly distracted me from my personal pain before she could share.”

“Mm, then perhaps I will answer you when we’re alone and you can distract me afterward.” My roommate breaks eye contact and looks down at her plate. I immediately feel guilty.

“Ugh, I’m sorry Katie. I thought I was being cute, but I put my foot in my mouth. You don’t have to re-live something uncomfortable just because I’m curious.” She raises a hand to stop me.

“No. You’re right. It’s fair to ask. I just don’t like feeling vulnerable around people.” She looks up to meet my eyes, looks away, and then meets mine again before looking at her food again.

“You look like you have a question, out with it.”

She scrunches her face at me in resignation, “Do you feel like I took advantage of you?”

Wait, she can’t seriously think she coerced me in to sleeping with her, can she? I mean I was emotionally vulnerable and she did start kissing my neck while comforting me. Okay, she definitely took advantage of the situation, but I already wanted to sleep with her.

“How to say this, accurately . . . it feels like you capitalized on an opportunity that I was open to after supporting me when I needed it. Like gratitude sex.”

“Oh, so it was a trade then.” She nods in understanding.

“Eew, no. That just makes me feel dirty. Not everything has to be a direct trade, hon. If you don’t want to share, I’ll understand, but I still want to get to know you better. I still want to be your friend.”

“I’m, I’m sorry I didn’t want to make you feel bad. I just have a hard time with situations that aren’t give and take in some fashion. I understand what friendship means to some people, but it feels like they always want something from me. So, what do you want?” Seriously? You don’t want to talk about yourself but you want to therapist couch me for wanting to be your friend. Sheesh lady.

“I haven’t actively thought about it, but I like being around you, it’s not in your nature to lie or placate me, your smart, caring, and nice to look at. I feel that is adequate reason to want to know you better.”

Curls stares intently at her soy sauce as she absently stabs the wasabi within.

“Extra-long fingers are a nice touch also.”

She snorts at that, breaking the stress in her expression. “Too bad you have little pigmy hands.”

“Excuse me!? The word you are looking for is petit, thank you very much.” I want to reach across and flick her nose in retaliation. “and we both know my tongue wags enough to make up for it.” I say, wiggling my eyebrows with lewdness.

“Could you imagine if you had a tongue as long as my fingers?” That’s what she thought about?

I gasp with a smile at the mental image, “I could lick your soul . . .” or toggle her soul bean, mmm, delicious soul bean.

And that is apparently where the weird line is drawn. She silently asks if I’m an idiot, and I confirm, that sometimes I am. She smiles through the rest of lunch, so I did that today—feeling proud of myself.

The rest of our day is mostly silent and at times I think I’ve offended Katie, but a few hours into the afternoon she gets up for a soda and brings me back a coffee, sitting with her lanky legs touching my stubby ones.

M: You’re very sweet, thank you for the coffee.

O: Mm.

Dear lord, she murmurs in text too. Cute. That has me smiling for the next two hours.

After looking at ship’s safety and damage control systems for five hours, I’m done. There are a lot of ways to get something hazardous off the ship or quench a fire using the vacuum of space. Too my great surprise, there is a way to eject the reactor without disengaging the propulsor. It’s a last-ditch, we have 45+ days to live kind of emergency, but still possible.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

I pass my hotel mate a note saying I’m going to the hotel. She passes it back asking me to save her some Thai food and a lemonade. I snort at the ridiculous notion of me eating the remaining leftovers. I lock up my tablet and head back to the metro station with my trusty activity notepad and a pen. And an empty backpack they check on the way out as well. Huh.

On the train ride back I think about the heart monitor. She said it would be fine to shower if I take off the wires first. And if I’m worried to put a waterproof bandage over it. It sounded like they expect me to exercise which I am loath to do. I get the need for it, and the Navy has standards, but it’s a boring and uncomfortable experience. I also have personal activity standards like having the core and leg strength to drag a body, or the stamina to have appropriately tiring bedtime activities. Those are the real reason I work out. The real reason I’m going to cart my jiggly ass to the hotel gym and then see if they have a hot tub.

They do not. Much to my chagrin. I grump to the elevator after 40 minutes of discomfort, write “Exercise” and “Shower” in my activity log and drag my sweaty face to the shower. The hot water promises to drag the dirt away, but my mind wanders as my brain decides to focus on how tired I am.

Six months of hard studying for the equivalent of an associate’s is a lot. One week of insane studying is going to be trying, so I wonder also if the next three months of brain melting concentration is going to burn me out. I know in my bones that I have what it takes to get to space onboard the Copernicus or Galileo, but what about when I get there? Will I be so fried I look like a jackass? Or will I absently alienate everyone around me like last time?

I hyperventilate a little, mild panic attack at the thought of my best not being good enough, when I realize that no one is here to judge me. There is no one around to scoff, side-eye, or denigrate me for my efforts. And damnit, my best is phenomenal. To that end, if I pass this exam, does my result in prototype in Charleston really matter as long as I don’t fail? Sure, it’ll annoy me not to be the best, but if I make it to the Copernicus school, no one will look at my terrestrial nuke scores again!

I’m sitting at the table reading a web novel series eating Thai food when Katie walks in. She looks tired and when I look at the time it makes sense as she stayed three hours longer than I did. She pulls out a set of gym clothes and starts stripping out of her uniform.

“You’re going to go running when you’re this tired?” I ask.

“Only way to get my thoughts to quiet down.”

“I can think of another way.” When those green eyes snap to mine I’m reminded that saying things under my breath can be heard.

She looks away, glancing at me a few times, “After lunch, I didn’t want to assume you were interested.”

I smile and shake my head slightly at the ridiculousness of that statement. Of ‘course I’m still interested in the gaunt monolith in front of me. She sees the slight shake of my head and frowns.

“No no no, Katie, I’m interested. It just seemed such a silly statement for you to say. Thank you for being considerate though.”

She pauses while I speak, then heads to the bathroom to finish changing. She jumped to that conclusion so fast, it’s kind of terrifying how ready she was to just be tossed aside. I could see how someone might get into that kind of mindset if you were hauntingly beautiful but socially awkward. Can’t say that I’m much better though, I haven’t had a steady girl in a long time.

I don’t need much emotional validation, but praise for my brilliance is always welcome. That’s not really what my partners have done though. Sure they were sometimes proud of me for completing my goals, but none were terribly interested in what I did, or understood why work was so important to me. They also accused me of not showing them how much I cared. It was explained to me multiple times that I was never around and when I was around I wasn’t really “there”. Kind of like how my parents treated me.

I do not want to think to much about my emotional black hole of a childhood, so I grab a beer and jump back into web novels. An hour after she left my roommate walks through the door sweaty and smiling. Ooof, is that smile of hers sexy. Look at them canines. I want to lick them. Bad penny. Let her take a shower and settle down, and maybe don’t think of her in the shower.

“Good run?”

“Not bad. Mind feels less cluttered.” She grins even wider before disappearing into the shower.

I have no idea where those kinds of smiles are coming from, but they certainly feel good from this end too. I drag the remaining take-out containers and a lemonade from the fridge and refill her water bottle since I’m up. With nothing left to do but sit, I suddenly want to snoop into her things. Could have easily done it while she was gone, but the urge was never there before. Odd.

In no time at all I am rewarded for not being a creep by seeing LS2 walk out in panties while brushing out her hair. She starts when she sees me, guess she forgot I was here, which feels awesome, but besides the wide-eyed look, she just keeps on brushing until she’s satisfied, walks past me to pick up her night shirt from yesterday and tosses it over her head. I grunt in disapproval as she looks over the food options.

We sit in companionable silence while she eats, me reading serials, her reading about supply something or other. Then somehow, she manages to ask me a question that has me going off on a tangent about automated quick-docking for fuel and resupply and that dusky look is back in her eyes. I’m here for it. With no more prompting needed I straddle her in the chair and cover her lips with mine, probing her canines with a curl in my tongue and shudder with pleasure and moan into her mouth.

She kisses me back with licks and playful bites until my fingers skate up her ribs to roll her hardening nipples between my fingers. “Take me to bed Katie.” I demand between kisses. She doesn’t seem to mind that I took the initiative this time and deftly transfers us to her bed with her lying beneath me.

“Good girl.” I whisper into her ear while nibbling it. She shivers at the contact and praise and proceeds to smash her lips against mine with hunger in her eyes. Katie proves a very diligent and obedient partner tonight, and a very, very good girl.