His words replayed as I stood in front of the central hub for the alarm.
“He’s happy,” I whispered.
“System disarmed.”
I placed a hand on my heart and pulled in fresh air. Everything Mercer needed, Vallei had to give. The two complemented each other well.
“Good evening, baby.”
My eyes blossomed. My fingers gripped the threads of my fabric. My heart tried escaping my chest.
“Chemistry!”
“You’re slipping,” he chastised, kissing the skin of his teeth.
His disappointment led me to follow him. I hated it. The thought of it.
“The alarm was– and then Mercer was on my mi– I–”
“Slipping.”
I sighed, dropping my shoulders. Chemistry opened the fridge and removed a bottle of water. He, then, rounded the counter and slid the second drawer out. He dipped his hand inside and removed a long packet.
“Not exactly.”
“Excuses aren’t necessary, Royce.”
He poured the orange powder into the water, capped it, and then shook the mixture.
“I don’t have any,” I admitted, shrugging.
“They’re useless, anyhow.”
I rolled my eyes, hating how he was always right and how much I missed him at the same time. His presence was a gift I didn’t mind receiving repeatedly.
“You don’t make this easy.”
“Life isn’t easy, baby. Drink up. You’re dehydrated.”
“Ted–”
“Drink.”
“How do you figure I’m dehydrated?”
He grabbed my wrist, extending my arm.
“There isn’t a vein in sight, Royce. Drink.”
He shoved the bottle in my direction.
“Voluntarily or involuntarily.”
I snatched the bottle. Chemistry nearly took my fingers off.
“Ouch.” I chuckled.
“Your head is as hard as they come.”
