Page 41 of The Lottery

Astrid cocks an eyebrow, either impressed or not believing that I solved the problem before our computer. I allow myself a moment to absorb the praise. It feels good to be right about something.

“If another engine lost a hardwired or solar panel connection, we should know within the hour,” she continues. “In the meantime, everything appears in working order.”

I nod slowly, processing the news that there is no imminent threat as my thoughts invariably drift back to the intoxicating woman who has stolen my heart. How can I pretend not to be infatuated with this woman when she is all I can think about? Trying to dispose of this obsession is like pushing sand into the sea.

“You spoke with her, I trust?”

I might as well speak my thoughts out loud with the way Astrid can read them.

“I did. I apologized and… we ‘cleared the air,’ as it were.”

“And she feels the same?”

“Yes.” I almost laugh as I speak the word, knowing not a damn thing about how Azalea feels. Though she didn’t resist me tonight. She also took ownership for her actions, sharing the responsibility with me.

Perhaps she does feel the same. If so, then she is currently sitting in her room, her mind replaying every kiss and touch we shared.

“Thank you for the report,” I say to Astrid before hastily retreating to the lift and then to my humble suite. I take a moment to undress, then step into the shower, letting the stress and excitement of the day wash off me. I should be reviewing all the work done by the crew, checking the engines at least twice more before retiring, but all I can think of is Azalea. I lean against the wall, wishing I could simply walk through it and take her in my arms.

But that will never be my life.

I have my fantasies. Nothing more.

The sooner I can accept this, the better off everyone on this ship will be.

13

ZAE

“The sun, with all those planets revolving around it and dependent on it, can still ripen a bunch of grapes as if it had nothing else in the universe to do.”

—Galileo Galilei, Explorer

* * *

When Marek walks away, I’m inexplicably heartbroken.

I know things played out the only way they could. I wasn’t about to invite him into the suite I share with Robert, and I’m quite sure he wasn’t going to ask me in for a nightcap.

My brain knows these things to be true, but when he turns and heads back to the lift after decrying our lustful encounter, I still feel rejected. I’m shocked at how much this hurts, like a giant fist squeezing my gut.

When I look closely at those feelings, I see the truth. Despite understanding we can’t be together, still, I wanted him to fight for me. I wanted to be worth breaking the rules for.

What a foolish train of thought.

I take a deep breath and tell myself I’m glad he didn’t invite me in. Fight for me. Break the rules. I wouldn’t have been able to say no, and who’s to say how much messier life might have gotten if we let things escalate.

I cannot believe we let it go this far already. That I let it go this far. What a fool I am.

I remember the way Marek looked when we were almost caught in the Observation Room. The way his jaw locked tightly, muscles clenching and unclenching. The way his gaze burned into me.

He wasn’t happy.

I don’t blame him.

I could be his ruin. The Jezebel that brings him down in the social hierarchy of this crazy new world order.

Of all the men here, partnered or not, Marek Volkav would be the most destroyed by an illicit affair with a Lottery winner.

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