“…when I get a taste of remixed Kys, I justknowit’s gonna feel so damn good to have it back in my system. I’mnotworried about side effects. I mean, if the bad version Ma made didn’t do long-term damage, then Em’s remix is gonna do me some good, right? So why would I even need to stress?”
I can also hear him tap his foot on the floor.
“Fuck’s sake,” I mutter.
He must’ve heard that. He quickly shoots up and faces me. His grin’s on. His gray eyes lit up. My own eyes are blinking open, heavyfrom my sleep getting interrupted.
“Oh good. He lives,” he says, crossing his arms over my bunk, face inches from mine. “Rise and shine, Ocean Eyes. We have a big day.Monumental. Potentiallyworld-changing. And by world-changing, I meanmyworld, because today’s the day Em gives us the good stuff.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Did you already drink coffee?”
“Nope!” Stan sounds like he’s practically shouting this early in the morning. “I never slept. I had too much of that frozen coffee last night.”
“It’s too early for you to be this loud,” I whisper, groaning.
“So what? Time’s an illusion. Coffee’s in me. Soon, Kys. Maybe you too.” He chuckles. I don’t get the joke. “Now, get down here so I can talk at a reasonable angle. My neck’s suffering from staring at your beauty.”
“What the fuck, Stan?” I grumble, getting out of bed.
We head to the showers together, and I try to catch his words, but he’s talking even quicker this morning. Or my brain’s moving slow. My body sure is.
Still, when we’re brushing our teeth over the sinks, I see how he’s facing me and avoiding the mirror.
I frown, trying to remember anything about mirrors that Stan might not like. But that part of my brain won’t make the memories clear.
“Come on, Ocean Eyes. Time to face the day!”
I follow him out as he leads us to the mess hall for breakfast.
My eyes drift down to his back pockets. There’s something interesting about the shape. The curves. The way they bounce a bit.
Oh, god… I’m staring at his ass.
Heat crawls up my face while my eyes widen.
Shaking my head, I jog to meet his stride while he talks a mile per minute about how he hopes there’s better coffee being served this morning.
Later, while we’re eating breakfast, Stan’s stuffing his face as fast as he talks. It’s a miracle he doesn’t choke. It’s like the man doesn’t have a gag reflex.
I try not to think too hard about that.
Oh, god, don’t think about the wordhard.
Shit. I frown. I just thought it.
“Nil, dude, don’t be nervous,” Stan says, chewing with his mouth open.
That should be disgusting, but on him, it’s fucking…cute.
“Look, okay, fine, yeah, I’m nervous too. I mean, I’m rambling nonstop. My foot won’t stop tapping, but listen, you and me? And this ship of troublemakers? We’ll take that new Kys that Em made, and we’ll goddamn get through this.”
I’d be inspired if it wasn’t for the broccoli stuck between his teeth. I want to reach for it. With my tongue, I think. So I don’t.
“Let’s finish this dry ass cereal.” He grins, picking out the piece of green with his own tongue. I don’t think about how wet and warm it must feel. “Em’s handing out miracle drugs, and I want front-row seats.”
***
By the time we reach the MedBay, Em doesn’t even need to look up to check that it’s us. Anyone could hear Stan coming.
