I didn’t intend for the guilt to be quite so evident in those words, but it is.
Risk grips the back of my neck, forcing me to look at him. “You’re not meant to change others’ futures. You’re only meant to live your own.”
He kisses me, and for a moment, I can forget about any and all futures but ours. But when he releases me, he sits down as close to me as physically possible and says, “Okay, let’s see if we can filter this thing into something that won’t make us want to bore our eyes out.”
ARC
One hand in mine, the other wrapped around my forearm, Chrys lets me lead her toward Margot’s.
“Why are you taking me to a sex club when we can’t have sex?” The disappointment in that question makes me ache in an all too familiar way.
“I’m not.”
“The building is shaped like a popular style of vibrator on Earth. I know what Margot’s looks like. Even if that sign wasn’t also in English, I would know where we are.”
“Margot’s isn’tjusta sex club.”
“Okay… then why are we here?”
“I have an appointment.”
She stops dead in her tracks, and the gut-wrenching thought that reaches me makes my bones feel rotten.
“No, notthatkind of appointment.”
Releasing her hand, I take her face in both of mine. “Neither of us are here to have sex.”
She watches my eyes for a moment and then nods, slowly.
“You are going to hang out with Margot and Hannah and whoever else is here today and wants to meet you, and I am going to see my therapist.”
“Oh.” She blinks at me and the deluge of thoughts are colored with surprise, not suspicion.
“Margot employs alotof people, and less than half of them ever take their clothes off.”
“Okay. I would have preferred a little more warning, but I get it.”
“Core suggested I start talking to someone and I think it helps. I’m not sure. I hope it does.”
She hopes it does too. “So they’re Core’s therapist too?”
I nod, and she questions whether or not all of us should be getting therapy… considering.
“Probably. But she has told me it’s the sort of thing that only works if you’re ready to let it work, so…”
“And are you ready?”
“I want to be.”Saints, do I want to be.
Taking my hand again, she walks beside me to the entrance and I press my free hand to the pad beside it.
We step into the same elevator anyone else would, but instead of going up, into the club, my palm print coded in the connection to my appointment so the wall flashes with a symbol for the lower levels.
“Ooo,” Chrys says with a little laugh as the lift drops us down.
There isn’t a fun light show for this trip. No windows into private rooms, just a quick descent and we’re done.
When the door opens, instead of the usual woman sitting behind the front desk, it’s one with neon hair and neon eyelashes, wearing black lipstick and blacker clothing.
