Page 53 of The Love Simulation

This isn’t a simulation for life on Mars. It’s testing for psychological warfare.

“It’s all good,” Roman soothes. “You hear that? It’s coming from the comms. You said Jordan and Angie got the antenna up, right? We’re probably just getting messages in from Mission Control.”

I feel no shame over the fact that I was ready to punch the air over the thought of another crisis. I let out a deep breath as my body staves off the bit of adrenaline that was ready to help me act in fight-or-flight mode. It takes a fewmore breaths before my pulse is steady. I think my body has developed PTSD from everything I’ve been through so far.

“If that’s a message from Mission Control, I guess we better get up,” I say grudgingly, pulling away and sliding to the edge of the bed. Roman lets me go with a sigh, worming his way into my heart that much more as I see he’s as reluctant as I am to end our morning cuddle session.

After having been laid up for so long, the first thing Roman wants to do is take a shower. Before leaving the room, he crooks an eyebrow, inviting me to join him. I laugh. I would absolutely love to see him in all his glory, but we’re not there quite yet, and the shower stall is too small.

As he goes on, I change out of the day-old jumpsuit I’ve been wearing and put on a fresh one. A shower will have to wait for later.

I leave the bedroom and enter the common room. My first stop is the comms station. The monitors show that outside, everything is clear. No dust storm. And while of course I knew there wouldn’t be, there’s no sign of Angie and Jordan either. Just the quiet of nothing, save for the steady hum of fans and computers. I glance at the monitor showing each teammate’s health status, now only showing Roman’s and mine, and my heart breaks a little knowing that we lost the other three. Even if they’re all alive and well outside the simulation, we came in together, and I had planned on us all leaving together. Well, except Roman. But how was I supposed to guess that his motivations were true? I had no idea he’d be the one I’d end up depending on to complete the tasks or that we’d grow so close.

The message from Mission Control is short. They congratulate us on getting the antenna back up.

By the time I’ve taken stock of the remaining tasks,Roman is coming out of the shower. He’s freshly washed and groomed in his jumpsuit. Not only is his body clean, but he’s also trimmed his beard and mustache, and his waves are back. The only thing I don’t like—a tiny gripe, really—is that he’s no longer shirtless. I wonder if he goes to sleep like that every night or if last night was a deviation because of his migraine. I guess I’ll find out later tonight.

I force my eyes away from him and back to my work. I take stock of how much water we have left. With three teammates gone, there’s plenty of water for Roman and me to survive on. I can even take a longer shower. Instead of our previously allotted two minutes, maybe I’ll go crazy and bump it to five. It’s the small wins that count.

“Did you eat breakfast yet?” Roman asks from the kitchen.

Busy looking at the charts Jordan was filling out for us about the daily maintenance of the Hab, I respond with a distracted “Not yet.”

“Breakfast is ready,” Roman says a few minutes later.

“What?” I look back to the kitchen to find two bowls set out. I close out of the data and walk to the kitchen. My heart melts when I see Roman has set out some oatmeal and tea. “I thought the oatmeal was all gone. I was looking for it yesterday.”

“Nope. It was just where you couldn’t reach.” At my glare, he starts cheesing and I shake my head. “How’s everything looking?”

“Honestly, it’s looking really good. We knew the antenna was going to be the hardest part, and Jordan and Angie were able to knock it out before they were eliminated. All that’s left is to keep up with our physical activities, straighten up outside, keep it clean in here, and grow dandelions. I almost feel bad with how easy we’re going to have it in the next few weeks.”

Then again, if it’s easy sailing from here task-wise, that will leave plenty of opportunities for Roman and me to make the most of the remaining weeks we have together. Roman looks at me, his eyes holding secrets from the camera only I can see, and I’m positive we’re on the same wavelength. I touch the soil where the dandelions should be sprouting by now and frown.

After some light fitness that consisted of jogging on the treadmill for me and looking good while strength training for Roman, we went our separate ways to tackle the daily tasks. Roman, seemingly completely over his migraine, set about completing the first round of dusting and vacuuming while I came to the greenhouse to inspect the crops.

Standing at the garden bed now, I look at the built-in sprinklers. I don’t get it. Nothing seems to be malfunctioning or leaking, and yet the soil is way too wet. I sigh. If we can’t get this figured out, it may just be best to get rid of the soil and the seeds already planted and start over fresh. It will be a waste that could potentially affect our bottom line of resources and what is carried over for the next group, but it’s either that or we lose because we can’t grow what essentially amount to the easiest weeds that pop up all over America.

After checking the lettuce and potatoes, both of which have started growing but aren’t counted toward our big tasks, I leave the greenhouse.

I see Roman dusting the comms station and fight back a smile. He’s laser focused on wiping away every speck of dust, running the cloth along each surface meticulously.

“How’s it looking?” he asks when he glances my way.

“Mighty fine indeed.”

“Are the dandelions finally starting to come in?”

“Huh? Ohhh. No, not yet. The soil is drenched. I think we need to toss it and start over.”

Roman stops what he’s doing. He stands up straight and puts the cloth he’s been using over his shoulder and heads toward me. “What did you think I was asking about?”

I blink rapidly while heat overtakes my face. He looks way too sexy strutting toward me like that. I won’t even try to convince him I was talking about the greenhouse. That would be a bald-faced lie, and he’d see straight through. I take the path where the least amount of embarrassment lies and shrug.

Roman’s mouth tips up in a sexy smirk as he stops in front of me. “You don’t know, huh?” Roman didn’t come to play. His voice has dropped an octave, sexy and low; the smolder he’s directing at me is doing its thang and smoldering, affecting me in every which way, just as he intended. “Maybe you saw something you liked? Something not in the greenhouse?”

“Maybe I did,” I concede. I’m heartbeats away from jumping him but know I can’t. Not out here where the cameras are on and rolling, anyway.

I let out a slow breath. I need to keep my head in the game. At least during working hours. I may have found myself in some sort of…situationship with Roman, but that needs to remain behind closed doors.

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