“Oh god, yeah, definitely. Multiplied by a million.”
Silence fell, then. And she knew why, too.
Here was where she was supposed to explain.
To give reasons for her tiny bit of progress.
There was just one problem:
She couldn’t. It was impossible.A stranger gave me tips on avoiding human contactjust sounded fucking insane, even to her. And the more she thought about it, the more insane it became. He hadn’t done anything, really. He had just been soothing somehow, in a way she didn’t know how to describe.
But thankfully, Letty seemed to get the problem.
“You don’t have to talk about it, honey.”
“No,” Tate agreed, around a mouthful of Chinese food. “Not even a little bit.”
“Just come and sit and stuff your face full of deliciousness.”
“Oh youtotallyshould do that. We got the good crispy things.”
“Yeah, and the weird red sauce that somehow tastes like potatoes.”
She went over the table, then. Though not because the food sounded good.
It did, but it was more than that. There was that easiness, again. That relaxedness.
As if one talk with Forcefield Guy had left a blueprint inside of her:
How to escape this nightmare in six easy steps.
And though she still couldn’t eat much, she ate more than usual. She managed a whole egg roll, and at least a quarter of a portion of rice. Then to cap it off, she found herself actually asking Tate to pass the salt. As if his utter massiveness had suddenly stopped being a problem.
In fact, it was a full two hours before anything weird or uncomfortable happened. Andeven then, it didn’t go the way she expected it to. Tate went to put a hand on her shoulder,and it washimwho froze in horror. It wasLettywho made a sound of protest, at the sight of his blunder.Her friend reached for him, to pull him back. To stop him, before he could make sudden contact.
While she just sat there not moving or saying anything or even reacting.
For a second, she almost laughed at the absurdity of it.
At which point, she knew.
She had to ask the guy for more.
* * *
She intended to play it really cool. To start talking about something else first, before neatly segueing into what she actually wanted. She even had a topic all picked out—the coffee, and how absolutely foul it was. Maybe she could get him laughing about it. Make him comfortable, just in case that hesitation she thought she’d seen had been real.
But as soon as she was close to him in the pool of light from the dance studio door, something just went wrong.
Those black eyes met hers, and that fizzing feeling tripled.
Suddenly, she was bouncing on the balls of her feet.
Then came the words, in one big dumb rush.
“So you got anymore tips on how to be more like you?” she asked, and immediately wanted to take it back. Partly because it sounded so weird, but mostly because of what happened when she said it. His expression actually sagged—just a little, but a little was aloton him. It made him look older than the twenty-eight she’d pegged him at. It made him seem like five thousand and twelve.
And that impression only got bigger when he answered her.
