Page 6 of Made for You

“So where are you from, Red? And what’s your name?”

I feel myself blush. “Julia. I’m from here. California.”

“And what does Julia do?”

“Oh, I...” The car slows. I lick my lips. “Are we here?”

The girls erupt in chaos, everyone pressing against the darkened windows, trying to catch a glimpse of Josh.

And then, delicate as a moth’s wings, something brushes my arm. My body jolts and I yelp before registering that it’s just Texas, climbing across the limo into my corner.

“You scared me,” I admit with a breathy laugh.

“Sorry, I missed your answer,” she says, settling next to me with a shimmy of her hips. “So...what do you do?”

“Oh! Right. Um, well, I...” I clear my throat. I can’t tell her the truth; Josh needs to be the first to know who I am. “I’m kind of...in between things right now.” Ugh. Why do I sound so guilty?

Texas narrows her eyes. “Fair warning? I happen to be very good at finding out people’s dirty secrets, and I think you have one.” Her teasing tone has a vicious undercurrent. She reaches toward my face. My hand shoots up on instinct, clamping around her wrist.

For a second, we’re frozen. Her hand lifted. My fingers wrapped around her like a manacle. Both our eyes wide with surprise. Then time tumbles forward. I release her wrist and raise both my hands, palms facing out.

“I’m so sorry,” I gasp. What just happened? A flash of instinct—protect yourself—

“You had a mascara smudge, bitch,” she hisses, gathering her wrist to her chest, her breathing heavy. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Despite my resolve that Josh should be the first to know, I’m so tempted to blurt out, I’m a Synth. Reassure her that my No Harm programming means I’m not a threat. I couldn’t even hurt Texas if she attacked me. In fact, there’s only one exception that would allow me to harm a human. But I force myself to swallow the surge of words like the vomit they are.

“You startled me,” I say humbly, “and I’m so sorry.”

“Like fuck you are.” Her displeasure hits like a blow.

I suddenly notice we’re the center of multiple girls’ attention. More than one face looks...excited. I bite my lip, unsure of where to go from here, but Texas takes over.

“There’s a saying you should know, Julia from California. Don’t mess with Texas. You want to know why?”

“Why?” I say without thinking, and instantly regret it.

“We know how to fuck a bitch up.”

The girls explode in whoops and laughter.

But I’m not laughing. I came on this show to find love, and the first thing I’ve found is hatred.

“I’m not here to make enemies,” I say, but even I can hear the weakness in my own voice.

Texas smiles, all white teeth and sharp lipstick.

“And I’m not here to make friends.”

NOW

“Please, sit,” I say, gesturing to the chairs in our kitchen breakfast nook. I’m trying to act normal, even though dread is bubbling up in my stomach from a deep well within.

When Josh didn’t come back, at first I didn’t panic, even when he didn’t answer my texts. We had parted angry. He probably needed more time. Then, Monday morning, my calls went straight to voicemail. Maybe his phone died. Or had he blocked me? From there, the floodgates of worst-case scenarios burst open. What if I never saw him again? What if our angry goodbyes were our last? By Tuesday, I knew something terrible had happened, even if that terrible thing was him leaving me of his own free will. That’s when I filed the missing person report. The past twenty-four hours since I filed might as well have been an eternity, but now that law enforcement is here, I don’t feel ready. What’s worse? The limbo of dread, or its cruel resolution?

I turn my back on the sheriff and his deputy while I settle Annaleigh in her high chair, strap her in, and hand her a soft spoon to entertain herself with. There’s a long, almost human whine from Captain, who has settled into a good-boy position by his empty bowls.

“Don’t mind me, I just need to get Captain’s food,” I say as Annaleigh bangs the spoon on her tray. This earns total silence from the men. I give them a small glance. The sheriff’s gaze is downright piercing. But his deputy’s is different. A mixture of wonder, curiosity...and lust. I know I’m beautiful, according to Western human standards. And sometimes that makes me happy—almost viciously happy, like my beauty is some kind of revenge. You can hate me, but you’ll still want me. But a lot of the time, it makes everything so much more complicated. The spot at the back of my head itches again. I force myself to ignore it.

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