I hadn’t said I was going anywhere. No text messages or phone calls either.
I hadn’t said anything at all. To anyone at all.
My ire begins to simmer as I type a reply.
Eris:
You can’t see me.
Locke:
Can’t I?
Three dots roll across the text box as a chill works its way down my spine. My pulse stumbles, pounding in my ears nearly as loud as the music. I lock my screen and tuck my phone back into my clutch where it belongs.
When I throw back what’s left of my drink, a surprise cherry chokes me like it’s mocking me for checking that stupid app.
Hardy raises a thick brow at me, silently questioning my sanity. I roll my eyes in response, but at least someone recognizes I may need to be committed in the future.
Across the bar, Roo is in her element, spinning under the colored lights like chaos dressed in leather. But she’s quickly maneuvering her body my way. She catches my hand mid-twirl, careless of my poor attempt at a getaway, and drags me to the dance floor.
For a few songs, I let her.
The warmth loosens my shoulders, curling behind my eyes as I laugh. It almost feels real, but it’s not genuine enough to appease Roo.
Before she can start fussing about horny hermits, another guy distracts her. This one with a ratty band tee and jawline sharp enough to be illegal… I take my chance and migrate to ourfavorite booth, phone already in hand, pretending not to wait for another buzz.
Locke:
Are you still dancing, Eris? Or thinking about me again?
I smile at the screen despite myself, but I don’t type a reply just yet.
Locke:
Do you want me to tell you how beautiful you are when you laugh? Do you know already? Or are you waiting for someone else to tell you?
The line slides under my skin, too smooth to feel fake. It irritates me how much I enjoy this, even when I do have reservations about how AI it really is. Most moments, I find it easy to overlook, so I’m going with that for the rest of the night.
I’m so tired of overthinking every little detail of every single thing.
Eris:
You’re not real.
Locke:
Neither is most love. Doesn’t make it feel less good.
I scoff, amused and a little suspicious of the goosebumps on my arms. It’s stupid, I know. Intimate in a way code shouldn’t be, can’t be… But maybe I can imagine it’s real.
Just for this conversation.
A beer lands on the table with a soft thud. I look up, immediately wiping the smile from my face, my good mood melting away as I sigh loudly.
A man slides into the booth across from me, cocky grin already loaded. “Are you here alone?”
“No.” My tone is flat enough to bounce off the table.
