I don’t remember falling asleep.
One minute, Em gives me Kys, does another scan, and tells me the scan readings were “within expected deviation.” The next minute, I’m on my bunk staring at the wall like someone teleported me there. My body feels heavy. My thoughts feel floaty. Em’s new Kys must’ve knocked me out.
Now I’m cranky, starving, and trudging toward the mess hall with one goal. Food before murder.
I hear Stan before I even walk in. People are laughing. Some are trying not to be obvious about it, but they’re failing.
“…then Sterling turns to me, dead in the eye, and says, ‘If you lick that again, I’ll cut your tongue out myself.’ Which, rude, right? Because he didn’t specifywhichpart I wasn’t allowed to lick off her—”
I step through the doors.
Stan turns, eyes catching on me instantly. His grin’s slow and obscene.
“Oh look,” he announces. “My favorite pretty fella rises from the dead.”
I knit my brows, looking at him.
He throws a hand to his audience. “Gimme a sec, boys. Daddy duty calls.”
I choke on nothing.
The guys who were watching him follow his gaze to me. A couple give me quick nods. I hear someone chuckle. Most go back to their food.
Stan peels away from his little audience. He saunters toward me.
“Where’ve you been, Ocean Eyes?” he asks. “I was a few seconds away from staging a search and rescue.”
“My bunk,” I say. “Needed a nap.”
“Didn’t want to ask me to be your cuddle buddy?”
I walk past him toward the buffet. “Not enough space for that.”
“Sure there is,” he says. “You’d just have to hold me real close.”
I pretend I didn’t hear that.
He takes a plate. “Did you dream about me at least?”
My silence is apparently an answer all by itself.
Stan smirks. “Here lemme load you up.”
He starts piling things up on the plate. I’m about to say something when he stuffs my mouth with a bread roll. I try to talk around it.
He just keeps smirking. “Don’t worry, handsome. Daddy’ll feed you.”
I groan, grabbing the bread out of my mouth and then taking a bite from it to ease my hunger pains.
He chuckles. “You’re cute when you’re cranky.”
My ears burn. “Stop.”
“Make me.”
I stab a piece of meat aggressively and put it on my plate.
“You feeling okay after the new Kys?” he asks. “I know Em said we’d be fine, but still. You dropped off like someone unplugged you.”
