Alternative

| Chapter Eight

Happiness doesn't travel with me during the night and into sleep. My dreams paint a different story. A painful reminder.

"You said it would be safe!"

In bed, I turn, eyes half-lidded, and reach for Em's sleeping body. She sighs as I touch her and rolls into my arms.

"How many people has this happened to, huh? How many customers lost their fucking minds!"

Her lips are warm against my chest. I try to close my eyes and will away the thoughts, the nightmares, with the feeling of her love. But I can't. The very second I begin to drift, I fall, colliding with the truth of what I'd done.

"I can't take this back! Help me fix this!"

I grip Emery's shoulders and press my face into the crook of her neck. Her leg wraps around mine, fingers are soft against my skin. The heat of her breath pushes past my ear, like a summer's breeze. A part of me wants to smile, but I squeeze my eyes shut.

I take in her scent, the salt of her body, and can't let go. Like an aching lover, I push my fingers through her hair, tilt her head back, and wake her with a kiss.

Because I want this.

I need this.

She's my Em.

|||

"You look like you slept like shit." Joe leans into his palm as he looks at me from his end of our work desk. His eyes are bright, his hair brushed back. He looks presentable in the eyes of Alt-life, and considering today we need to turn in our newest drawn-up contracts, it makes sense. Morris is expecting us as a unit, a team.

But being presentable? I wish I can say the same for myself. Pulling up a chair, I sit on my end. I feel as if my legs buckle before I can get comfortable and my body slumps, exhausted.

When I look at Joe, I realize my hair isn't as neat as his. His hair is lined, even faded. My waves, though short, are unruly around my face. I feel what should be my bangs hang too low near my eyes. With one hand, I push them away and try to fix them. But without a brush, I know it's no use.

"Or maybe you're just shit in general?" Joe purses his lips and reaches for papers as a distraction. He eyes me as his fingers fumble with the ends, attempting to make them straight. "Was the mem-block upload a fail?" he asks. "Is this why you're like this?"

"No." My eyes move from his as I scan the office. Another day with bustling Alt-Life agents. Many here today aren't from our section of the company, but since our building has the biggest meeting spaces, they book ours for use.

I wish there weren't so many people in here.

"It wasn't a fail." I place my elbow on my desk. My head slumps against my hand, into my palm. "I think it went okay."

"Okay?" Joe pushes his paper distractions into a drawer. With a small push, he rolls his chair out around his side to sit in front of me. His feet hit mine as he leans forward on his knees, dropping the tone of his voice to a whisper, "Are you sure?"

I sigh and look up at the ceiling lights. They are blinding white. Uncomfortable. Is this an interrogation? Am I supposed to be honest with him? He is my best friend, yes, but some details are best to keep secret.

"I'm sure," I mutter, forcing my eyes shut. "Just a rough night."

For a moment, I think back to Em's face. Her eyes. Before we fell asleep, the blue faded back to brown and she looked at me. She was still in my arms, naked body pressed to mine, and it didn't bother her. She smiled at me. She was happy.