Page 51 of The Alien in the Archive

“They have a certain charm,” I say evenly. “And I doubt you could get them wrong.”

Her jaw tightens, her expression caught somewhere between a glare and a disbelieving smile. For a moment, it seems like she’s going to let it go.

But then she lets out an exasperated laugh, shaking her head. “You know, for being a cranky old man, you really excel at being immature.”

“And for someone so young, you excel at overreacting,” I quip, refusing to let her have the last word. It’s not just the words themselves; it’s the way she bristles, the way I can feel the argument building between us even in the quiet of her mind. “This is about precision, Page. You can’t just slap a curve wherever it suits you.”

“It’s not about—” she stops herself. Her lips press together and she exhales sharply, flipping to a new page in her notebook with enough force to nearly tear it out. “This isn’t even necessary.”

Ashlan shudders in the corner, his antennae twitching as he picks up on the rising tension. The lumivix lets out a soft, half-asleep grumble, shifting uneasily on the armrest of my chair before curling back up.

Even he can sense it.

This isn’t about the writing exercise at all.

“I’m starting to wonder if your translator has made you lazy,” I murmur.

Page freezes for a second, her shoulders stiffening, and I know she’s cooking up a response that will make me regret saying that.

But then she sighs, leaning back in her chair. “You know…speaking of my translator…if I could just get you out of the damn library, over to my place, maybe you could upload language details to my translator. Would that really be so bad?”

I look back at her from where I’ve paced to the other side of the table. “I don’t leave the library,” I mutter.

“Oh, trust me,” she says. “I’m aware.”

There’s venom in her words, but it’s not what gets to me. It’s the way her voice falters, just slightly, the way her frustration seems to crack at the edges.

And there’s a flash of her thoughts…memory of the kiss, and then…disappointment?

I fix my gaze on her, and for a moment, I catch a glimpse of the tension pulling at her shoulders, the way her hand clenches her pen just a little too tightly.

“I’m just saying,” she continues, “it would make things easier. For both of us.”

“It’s not that simple,” I reply.

She shakes her head. “Nothing ever is with you.”

Her words linger, but she doesn’t meet my eyes.

Yes, she’s hiding something from me.

I cock my head at her, narrowing my eyes. First, the dreams…then, her reaction to when she cut her finger, then the kiss. And now this. This petulance, this distance, the way she twists every conversation into a fight.

It’s usually easy to forget she’s only twenty-five—a tiny fraction of my lifespan—but not today.

I cross my arms and keep staring at her, only catching her attention after a moment.

“Page,” I say, “if this is some kind of human code that I’ve upset you, I must remind you I’m not human?—”

“You’re infuriating, you know that?”

I arch a brow. “I’ve been told, by you, on multiple occasions.”

Her lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, I think she’s going to let it go. I wantsomethingto change—for her totell me what’s wrong, or for her to decide she isn’t angry at me anymore.

But then she slams her pen down on the table, the sound echoing all around my alcove.

Ashlan jolts up from the armrest of my chair, wide awake and antennae flaring. Page would usually apologize to the little lumivix—never to me—but she doesn’t even seem to notice him.

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