Page 22 of When She's Handy

“It’s just an allergy,” I grumble. “No need to fuss.”

“Tell me not to fuss when your face isn’t twice the size it normally is. Until then, I get to fuss all I want.” She heads out of the room, her backside swaying as she walks, and I allow myself to appreciate it for once. Letting a gorgeous female take care of me all night? Letting her fuss over me? I’d be the universe’s biggest fool not to agree.

And I might be a fool sometimes, but I’m definitely not that big of a fool.

CHAPTER

FOURTEEN

BRUX

Two hours later, we have an emergency injection in case I run across something else that I’m allergic to. We’re settled back in Melody’s quarters, and she insists that I sit down while she pulls each item out of her small pantry and holds it up for me to vote on. We end up putting half the food in a box and I feel guilty that she can’t keep it. “That’s a lot of credits to be tossing out.”

“I’m not tossing it out,” she tells me. “I’m going to give it to the woman that runs the boarding house. She’ll probably gift it to the next person that comes in. Someone will put it to use. I don’t want any risk that you’re going to have problems. Next time I buy food, you come with me, all right?”

“Next time,” I agree with a nod, and touch my mouth. My lips are still somewhat swollen but they’ve gone down quite a bit, much to my relief. “Can you read any of the Homeworld language? Or any other alien language?”

“I know a bit,” Melody says as she packs away the groceries. “But most of the words I know are things like ‘flammable’ or ‘cut here’ and not things like ingredients. You’ll have to teach me.”

“Maybe we can make a game of it,” I murmur, imagining nights curled up with Melody, sharing mugs of tea and going over languages.

“I don’t know if I like that idea, because I always lose to you,” she teases, and then sticks her tongue out at me. “Do you know how much you weigh, by any chance?”

“…weigh? Why do you ask?”

She puts the lid on the box and gives me a pointed look. “So I know how strong to make our bed frame, of course. I’ve got enough metal in the basement that I’m positive I can craft something to extend the frame to a larger size. I’m thinking king size for sure. Unless there’s something bigger than a king, because you’ve got a massive frame and I want you to be comfortable. What size are the beds in your people’s hotels, I wonder? I’m also a bit of a bed hog, so we need extra space for that.”

“A bed,” I echo. “For both of us?”

Melody picks up the box and puts it just outside her door, then closes it again. “No sense in us having two apartments if we spend all our time together. I think one big bed is the best idea, but if you hate it I guess we can get two smaller ones, though it might make sex tricky. But I guess there’s always floors, right?”

She wants us to move in together. My impulsive, wonderful female. Of course she wants to move in together right away. She’s right in that we spend all of our time together. When I’m not working, we have lunch together or I help her pick up scrap (mostly I just listen to her talk because she doesn’t like “assistance”). I’m with her every evening until it’s time for me to leave for the night. The thought of never having to leave her side again is…intoxicating.

“You should have your own space,” I begin, and then stop, because I am deciding for her again. “But I would like to live with you, if it would not be too overwhelming.”

“I have my workspace in the basement, but you’re right.” Melody thinks for a moment, and then moves to where I’m seated at her table, with a mug of tea that she’d insisted I drink. “Let’s give it a few weeks before you let the lease on your apartment go. Just in case I’m too much for you.”

Too much for me? I scoff at the thought. I like that she is decisive. That she firmly knows what she wants and needs. That she doesn’t second-guess herself. I envy that.

She stands over me and cups my face in her hands, studying my features. I remain still, enjoying her touch as it flutters over my skin. “The swelling is going down. That’s a good sign.”

“Mm.”

“Can you breathe through your nose now?”

“Some. Getting better with every breath.” I put a hand on her waist, tugging her forward. I want to wrap her in my arms. I want to touch her all over and show her that she’s mine. I’m just not sure how to start. I stroke her side, thoughtful. “Melody…”

“Yes, you can kiss me. But let’s make them small kisses so you don’t struggle breathing.” Her fingers dance along my ear, then move up to my broken horns, two ugly stumps capped off with metal. “You can strip me naked. You can lick me all over. Think of me as a blank canvas and you’re the artist.”

That’s far more poetic than how I feel. “More like I’m just the lucky bit of scrap that you’ve decided to craft into something new.”

She grabs me by the ears, her expression fierce as she forces me to look her in the eye. “You’re not scrap. You’re just as worthwhile as anyone I’ve ever met. Better, even. You saw me hurting and did something about it instead of walking away like so many others. That shows your true character. I probably cost all of your credits, was a bother and an annoyance because I remember crying like a madwoman, and then you even found me a new place to live where I’d be safe. You didn’t just sell me to another person and hope for the best. You made sure that I was taken care of, even if it was a problem. You’re amazing. Your heart is amazing. I don’t care that you don’t have a good family name or that your father’s father was a splice. I don’t care that you have a criminal record. All the things that you think make you unworthy don’t bother me, because I know how you really are when the chips are down.”

“What are chips?—”

“Hush,” Melody says, exasperated. “I’m trying to build you up here.”

“I apologize. I’m listening.” I’m flattered, and it makes me prickle with an uncomfortable sort of pride that she views me so highly. I’m not used to thinking of myself as anything other than just more station trash. It’s humbling to think that she sees me as something different, and always has.

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