Page 20 of The Love Simulation

“Aww. My siblings and I all have a decade gap, so we don’t have tight relationships,” Simone says. “If you don’t want to read the book, I’ll happily take it off your hands.”

I stare at the book a few more seconds. I do really want to read it. “Sure.”

Simone must read the longing in my gaze, because she giggles. “I promise I’ll give it back before we leave.”

“I love that book,” Angie says, coming to join us. “Not only is that Felix a werewolf, but he has tentacles.” She fans herself.

I am going to kill Camille for this.

I turn back to my bed and work on putting up my clothes and trying to make my pod feel homey. When it’s time to meet the guys in the common area, I watch Angie step right over the box of condoms she left on the floor like they’re not even there. Like they don’t draw as much attention as one of those yellow signs they put on a wet floor. And I wonder who, if anyone, will end up using them.

Chapter Nine

I scan the common area as Angie, Simone, and I walk in. It’s four spaces—the kitchen, living room, communication station, and lab station—efficiently made compact and squished into one large room, and will be where we’ll spend the majority of our days.

Jordan is at the comms station, which has at least a dozen screens, analyzing each switch. I easily spot Roman reading a pamphlet on one of the couches. I let my eyes linger on him a little to make sure he’s not making any moves to try to sabotage us already.

A jarring ping interrupts the quiet, sounding from the speakers and echoing throughout the room. We all look at Jordan, the only person actually messing with stuff, while he holds both hands up.

“I swear I didn’t mess up anything,” he says. “I only touched one button.”

We can’t have things breaking when we just got here. I take a step to see what is going on, but Roman puts his pamphlet down and beats me to the comms station.

“They’re messages from Mission Control,” Roman says after a moment.

“Thank God.” Jordan wipes his forehead then sits up straight. “I mean, see? I told y’all I didn’t mess up anything.”He uses a touch pad to navigate around the screen. “It looks like there are separate messages addressed to each one of us. They must have been transmitted on our way here.”

Jordan eagerly selects his message first. It’s a video from his mom and dad. They congratulate him on making it this far and sign off with a “We know you’ll make us proud!”

“Oh, me next!” Simone volunteers. She gets closer to the monitors, and Roman moves off to the side to give her room.

Simone’s video comes from her kids. They’re spitting images of her, with the same curly hair and light brown complexions. They hold signs that read “I love you, Mom” and “Go, Mom!” Simone swallows thickly and looks like she’s on the verge of tears when her video ends.

“Angie’s is next,” Jordan says.

Angie leans forward, but once the video starts playing, her face falls. Her message is from someone I assume to be her sister, though it looks like she may have been counting on someone else. Her sister encourages her to kick ass and bring home the bacon.

With everyone else receiving messages with two or three family members on video, I’m a little bashful when Jordan clicks on mine and my whole family pops into frame. Mom, Dad, Camille holding Zara, Lance, Vincent, and Vincent’s fiancée, Amerie.

“We’ll be watching you!” Camille says before they sign off, like I need the reminder.

I have to admit, being in this new setting with this group of people I hardly know is weird. Seeing my family’s faces is a familiarity I’m grateful for.

“Hmm.” Jordan moves around on the screen then looks back at us. “That’s all the videos we have,” he says apologetically.

An awkward stretch of silence falls over us like a blanket. Roman didn’t get a message from his family. Nothing from Principal Major or his mom. Nothing from his siblings, if he has any.

For a second I consider his insistence that he’s not as close to his dad as everyone assumes. Did they get into some kind of fight before Roman came, and now Principal Major isn’t showing his support? But if that’s the case, why is he here?

When I look at Roman, he appears almost unbothered that he’s the only one who didn’t have a message. I sayalmostbecause he doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes and his jaw is clenched, telling me he’s at least feeling some type of way. He’s got to be, right? Unless this is a play at garnering sympathy from us so we’ll let our guard down.

I turn from him, my conscience and sympathy at war with what my brain says is part of his long game.

“It’s messed up your family didn’t send you anything,” Angie says.

Whyshe says it, I don’t know. It’s one thing for all of us to silently feel bad for Roman or, in my case, be conflicted about feeling bad, but it’s another thing to actually make a comment.

Simone, Jordan, and I must all be of the same mind, as we look at her in disbelief. Angie’s eyes swing between us, and she shifts her head back. “What?”

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