This high-handedness is so typical of him. I’m tempted to manufacture an excuse, but I know Justin won’t let me get away with one.
I text him a thumbs-up. My stomach is one big knot and I don’t know how I’ll be able to eat anything.
The sky is threatening rain again when I exit SolomiChem at five. My eyes are drawn immediately to Justin’s tall, lean figure slouched against the passenger door of his roommate’s Hilux. He watches me with a contemplative expression as I walk the short distance to the parking space he secured close to the entrance.
Pushing himself off the car, he smiles lazily at me, sending the blood rushing to my head. “Hello, girlfriend.”
“Justin.”
He winces. “Your acting needs work.”
I want to wince myself. A whole night stretches ahead of me where I need to act my heart out. Justin’s right. My acting skills are dismal.
He crooks a finger at me in acome heresignal. When I warily step closer, he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me up against him. My body tenses at the intimate contact.
“Emaciator’s just walked out the building,” he whispers in my ear. “He’s watching us. Remember, you’re supposed to be my girlfriend.”
I swallow. Justin has a point. I can’t have Glen suspecting anything and ruining my plans. Tilting my head up, I bat my eyes and place a hand on Justin’s chest. “Hey, handsome.”
He bites his lip and buries his face in my hair, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
“You’re not helping here,” I grumble.
“Give me a moment,” he chokes out. At last, he lifts his head and brushes a light, affectionate kiss across my lips. “TT, that was the highlight of my day.”
#
Justin takes me to a pizza restaurant close to SolomiChem. He insists I accompany him in the Hilux, saying he’ll drop me off later to pick up my car.
“Tell me about your day,” he says after the waiter takes our order.
I tell him about the death of the high-dose dogs and some of the other studies I’m assigned to. I say nothing about the sacrifice order.
Our food arrives. While Justin tucks into his pizza, I toy with my garden salad, tension ulcerating my insides.
Halfway through his pizza, Justin raises an eyebrow at the salad I’ve barely touched. “Not hungry?”
“Not really.”
He looks at me with sharpened interest. “What’s going on?”
I try not to look trapped by the question. “What do you mean?”
“You’re jumpy and distracted. It’s not doing anything for my ego.”
I scrounge around and find a small smile. “Sorry. There’s a lot on my mind at the moment.”
“Care to share any of it?”
I clear my throat. “I’m still processing it all.”
He continues to eye me suspiciously. “You bottle all that up and you may as well drink poison.”
“Speaking from experience?”
Seconds tick by. At last, Justin says, “I never expected you to fight dirty.”
My face reddens. “I’m sorry.”
