Freddie?Not Joshua, but Freddie?His name was Freddie. He was Freddie, and I was Sunny, and there was no way this was happening. I pinched my arm. Hard. But nothing changed. I was still in the staff room, and he was still real.
As the wall of my fellow crew members parted, revealing his long, lithe frame poured into a fine suit, that wry twist to his lips, that amused sparkle in his eye, I practically whimpered. And Ineverwhimpered.
It took a second, maybe two, but then he saw me, noticed me,rememberedme. While his eyes locked on mine, his fork—and the bite of cake perched on it—fell with aclinkagainst his plate. “Phoebe?” he said, unblinking, unmoving, stuck with me in the same time dilation.
While I was rendered so speechless I wasn’t sure I’d ever known any words at all, Elanie—fully aware of the alias I used onSquee—whipped her head around and commed,
I registered Elanie’s snark, but she sounded like she was a million kilometers away, on a raft, in the middle of an ocean, all the way across the wormhole. Maybe on Venus.
“Phoebe?” Joshua—or Freddie—repeated while he stared at me with those intense, storm-gray eyes I’d been dreaming about for months. “How?”
“You two know each other?” Chan asked, his gaze shifting between us.
“Yes.” Freddie’s expression was blank, and his voice—missing the sultry swagger I’d remembered—warbled. “We’ve met.”
This was bad. This was very, very bad.
“Sunny?” Chan’s head tilted, his finger flicking out to point at Freddie. “You know our new L&C?”
I couldn’t answer. I was too busy swallowing what felt like a gwarf—an Aquilinian fruit resembling a golf ball covered in mildly poisonous spikes. He was a dream, a memory. He was supposed to stay that way. And now he was here. He was a member of my crew. I’d have to see him every day, live with him on this ship, work closely with him. Permanently.Holy shit.
“I’m terribly sorry,” I said to no one in particular. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment.”
Spinning on my heel—because while I had no idea what to do, I knew I had to get out of there—I attempted to walk smoothly through the door. But I tripped over the threshold and stumbled out into the hallway instead.
“Sunny, wait. Stop.” His honeyed voice had its own gravitational field, slowing me down, pulling me back. Reeling me in.
I took a deep breath and blew it out.Get a grip, Sunny. Iwas a grown woman. This was my ship. And I refused to be stunned into silence on my own ship. It was a shock, seeing him again, but I could do this. I could say words to him. I could converse. I could be normal. When I turned around, however, his smile took me out at the knees.
“Sunny—or is it Sunastara? That’s a beautiful name,” he said once he reached me. “You work on this ship? You… I can’t believe it.” He took my hand in his, pulling me into a quiet alcove next to a moon jelly tank. The watery blue light emanating from the tank danced over his cheekbones in graceful ripples. “Sunny, say something. Anything.”
You’re beautiful. You smell like the best dream I ever had. I want to lick your face.“Hello, Fredrick,” I said stiffly.
“Freddie, please call me Freddie.”
“Okay, Fred?—”
“I thought I’d never see you again,” he said in a rush. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that night. I tried to find you onSquee, but your profile never reappeared. And now you’re here.” He released my hand only so he could reach out and cup my cheek, making me wonder how something could feel so good yet so awful at the same time. Like watching a perfect sunset with sand in your eye. “It’s impossible,” he said. “Isn’t this impossible?”
I wanted to tell him that itwasimpossible. That I hadn’t stopped thinking about him either. But fear flooded my veins, my bones, my skin. The same cold, paralyzing fear that always gripped me when someone tried to get close or looked at me the way he was looking at me. I had to make it stop. Like my life depended on it. So I backed away from him and said, “Freddie, I?—”
His sharp inhale stopped me short. “I didn’t even think to ask. Are you already with someone?” He looked devastated, like someone had popped a balloon full of puppies.
“No, I’m not with anyone.”I will never be with anyone. That’s the point.
“Thank the stars.” When he tried to take another step closer, I stood straighter.
“But I can’t be with you either,” I said, each word scraping its way out of me. But at least this much was true. “I don’t get involved with my coworkers. Ever.”
He didn’t miss a beat. “Is that all? Not a problem. I quit.” Wheeling around, he shouted back toward the break room, “Sorry, Chan, but I qui?—”
“Shh.” I threw my hand over his mouth, smiling despite myself. “You can’t quit. We need a good L&C, and I’ve heard you’re one of the best.” His lips curved against my palm, and I yanked my hand back like I’d been electrocuted.
“You can find someone else,” he assured me, unfazed. “It’s not a difficult job.”
“Right,” I said. “It only takes nine years of higher education, an additional five of fieldwork, and two advanced residencies. Languages and customs experts practically grow on trees.”
“They do, in fact. I can recommend several.” His voice went so soft I could have fallen into it. “I have to be with you, Sunny. I’ve never felt anything like the connection I felt—Ifeel—when I’m with you. And to meet again, here…” He looked around the deck like he couldn’t believe his luck. “It has to mean something.”
