Hotness On Legs.
A small slot opens in the bottom of the wall where the door usually appears and a tray of food is slid into the room. Hunger makes me slow as I sit up. My arms shake as I pick up the tray and place it on the table. I collapse into a chair and lift the lid. There is a salad with cashews, a bowl of chopped up pineapple and oranges, and a glass of water. I was hoping for something a bit more substantial, maybe some bread and meat. My mouth waters none the less.
I pick up the fork, too hungry now to care whether they have done anything to the food. I scoop some salad into my mouth. It’s covered in French dressing and tastes divine. I finish it within minutes and then scoff down the fruit. I then gulp down the water until it’s gone. Nausea hits me and I push the tray away and go back to my bed, sitting against the wall, curling my knees up. I shouldn’t have eaten so fast.
There is nothing else to do but stare at the wall across from me. The same questions dance through my head. Why me? Why is this happening to me? Will I make it out of here alive? Will I ever see my family again? I feel drowsy and I lie on my side, still curled up. I close my eyes, letting myself drift.
I wake with a start. I sit up, wiping drool from my mouth. There’s no clock that I can see so I have no clue how long I’ve been asleep. Awhile if my bladder is any indication. I don’t think it was the food that put me to sleep, more like pure boredom and a full stomach, but I guess I’ll see after the next meal.
When I get back from the bathroom, a tray of food is on the floor. I pick up the tray and place it on the table, slouching into my seat. Disappointment floods through me as I lift the lid and am met by another vegetarian meal: beetroot and feta salad, an apple, a slice of bread and an orange juice. I eat slower this time so I don’t feel sick. I wonder where Tamara is? When she’ll be back? Will they even let her back while I’m confined to my room?
I go back to my bed. Being good sucks. They better let me out soon, I’ve been nothing if not the ideal prisoner. I don’t know how much longer I can keep up the charade.
The door appears and opens, making me jump up.
Lyssa saunters in, smiling at me. “What did you do?”
I raise my eyebrow. “You don’t know?”
She shakes her head. “I tried to follow you but boy can you move fast when you want to.”
I sigh. “I tried to hide in the kitchen cupboard so I could get a look at who has us captive.”
She lets out a little laugh. “Of course you did. I should have known you’d do something like that. And Botcop stopped you. FYI Botcop stays on top of everything!” She comes and stands against the bed. “Look, Am, there are no answers here, so you might as well stop looking. We do our best to live each day as it comes. You’ll drive yourself insane trying to figure this out.”
I clamp my lips shut to stop myself from shouting, ‘don’t you just want to go home?,’ I know it’s pointless with her.
She holds out her hand. “Come on, up you get. You’re free.”
I look at her doubtfully. “Really?”
“Yeah. Come on.” I slip my hand into hers and stand. Her eyes trail over me. “You still wearing that? You need to get changed, put on something nice.”
I slip my hand out of hers because she is still holding it. “Why?”
“Because we’re going to a party, of course.”
I’m not in the mood for a party, but if I spend another second in this room I’ll go insane. Besides, I want them to think I’m being compliant.
I pull the trunk out from under my bed and grab a pair of jeans and the nicest top in there. It’s sliver with short sleeves and shimmers when it moves. I go into the bathroom and dress. The clothes are a perfect fit, and they feel natural, like I wear these types of clothes a lot. I find a brush in one of the draws and brush my hair. When I go back to the main room, Lyssa places a pair of silver heels on the floor in front of me and I slip them on.
“Unfortunately there is no make-up here,” Lyssa says. “Not that you need it, you’re beautiful.”
“Um, thanks.” I find myself disappointed there’s no make-up, but what can you do? “Where’s Tamara? Is she coming to get ready?”
“She wasn’t allowed in here while you were in confinement,” Lyssa explains. “So one of the dancers lent her a dress.”
“Ready?” Lyssa asks.
I’m suddenly nervous, but I nod.
She leads me to the elevator and then tells it to go to level 9.
We step into a nightclub. Music vibrates through my feet and coloured lights pulse over the writhing crowd. By the look of things, everyone is here. At the end of the room, a band is playing on stage.
Lyssa grabs my hand and pulls me through the crowd. I scan the mass for Tamara but can’t see her. Lyssa stops not far from the stage.
“Dance!” she orders, shouting to be heard over the music.
I love to dance, I remember as I start to move, and it’s both a shock and delight to know this about myself. I throw my hands up and the tension rolls out of my shoulders. I close my eyes, move my body to the beat and let everything fade around me. Is this how everyone copes – dancing to survive?
Lyssa runs her hands down my sides, resting them on my hips, and presses against my back. It’s a little too close for comfort. I spin away from her and stop, everything fading around me as my eyes land on the lead singer. Flames below he is hotness on legs. His mop of blond curls fall over his eyes and he sweeps it away. His blue eyes meet mine and he smiles, sending my stomach fluttering. I smile back.
“You don’t want him,” Lyssa says besides me. “He is the definition of a man-whore.”
He looks fun, and I could do with some fun. It’s not like I’m looking for a boyfriend here. Besides, it’s very likely that I’ll be dead by the end of the week so what’s the harm of taking advantage of a little mutual attraction?
I move to the front of the stage, eyes focused on him. The song ends, he winks at me and then he and his band leave the stage. Disappointment floods through me when another band takes their place. Why hadn’t I paid attention to the band earlier?
A hand touches my arm and I turn to see the singer standing in front of me. He is even more gorgeous up close.
“You’re new,” he shouts, and I nod. He leans right in, his lips brushing my ear. “I’m Oliver.”
He moves his ear against my lips and I tell him my name.
He steps back and holds out his hand. “Would you like to dance?”
I slip my hand into his. “I’d love too.”
He pulls me off to the side where it’s slightly less crowded, and we start to dance. The way he moves his body has me mesmerized. A lot of eyes around us are on him. A few songs in and a group of girls move through the crowd, handing out bottles of water. We take a break, leaning against the wall to catch our breath. I gulp down my water. Oliver moves close, wanting to talk, but I don’t want to talk, don’t want to break the magic of the moment. I grab his hand and drag him back on the dance floor.
The music slows and he grabs my hips, pulling me to him. I wrap my arms around his neck and rest my head on his shoulder. He smells of sweat and deodorant and what can only be Oliver. We sway, and his fingers strum my back as if I were a guitar, my skin prickling beneath them.
I try to hold on as long as I can, but eventually my bladder gets the best of me. Not wanting to ask him if there’s a bathroom on this floor, I tell him I’m tired and am going back to my room.
“Let me walk you.”
The elevator has us at my floor in under ten seconds and then our feet are echoing on the steel walkway as we make our way to my room.
“Not much of a talker, are you?” Oliver says.
“Not tonight,” I tell him, not when I’m trying to comply and the questions I want to ask are anything but compliant.
“Then maybe you’d like to get together tomorrow to talk?”
I bite my lip as I smile at him. “I’d like that.”
We face each other when we reach my room. “You’re a good dancer, is that your talent?” he asks.
“No,” I say, putting my hands on his arms. “And I told you I didn’t want to talk tonight.”
His smile widens and he leans in. Our lips meet. Warmth floods through me and my stomach somersaults. His arms tighten around me and I sink into him. I’ve had bity, I’ve had sloppy and I’ve had good, but this, this can only be described as amazing. Fierce. I don’t want it to end, but I need air. I pull back, keeping my eyes closed for a few seconds longer to savour the moment. When I open them, Oliver is looking down at me, cheeks flushed. He gulps.
“That was…” He tucks my hair behind my ear. “Brilliant.”
“Yeah,” I step out of his arms and tell the door to open(which I’m surprised is still there). It does and I step backwards into my room. “Thanks for the dance.”
“Goodnight,” he says, and I’m impressed he doesn’t ask to come in.
“Night.” I tell the door to close and then race to the bathroom, because brilliant kiss or not, I’m about to burst.
– Computer, make a note: 9009 and 7008 have shown compatibility. If 9009 mates with 7008 she is to stay with the Talented, even if no talent merges.
Note saved to file 9870-631-9009.
– Computer, I am signing off, alert me immediately if there is a development overnight.
Your command has been noted and I have linked to your personal com, Doctor Psknah Tarah Soun.
-Computer, save all data and place session in sleep mode.
Data saved. Session placed in sleep mode. Active session time 17:46.
© Rochelle Sharpe, 2014.