Page 34 of Even Robots Die
And I feel like all the warmth around me has been stolen from me.
I can’t understand what’s happening.
I hate him.
He’s the grumpy asshole who imprisoned me purely with the aim to reset his brain.
And yet, all I can feel is the fact that he was almost touching me and that his warmth isn’t seeping into my every pore anymore.
Maybe my brain isn’t so awesome after all.
21
Brice
Idon’t know what comes over me.
When she touches my hand, I feel tingles, but it lasts less than a second and I think I might have imagined them. Then she stops right in front of me and my eyes can’t help but drop to her lips.
Those pouty lips that keep sassing me every time they can.
Those beautiful pouty lips that I imagine would be so soft against my skin if I could feel them.
It’s the first time since I woke up in that room in Notre Dame that I really wish I could feel something.
But there’s something else, because I shouldn’t have felt that simple brush of her hand against mine. Well, I normally feel that something is touching me, but it can’t elicit any reaction in my body. Be it pain or pleasure.
And unless my mind is making up things, I’m pretty sure I can say that short moment in time did happen, that I feltmore.
It almost felt electrifying. Not that it was strong, because it definitely wasn’t. It was more like a subtle wind stroking my skin, but I felt it spread goosebumps up my arm.
But now, Florentine is looking up at me, wetting her lips like my mere presence is making her antsy, when my brain is conjuring ways of tasting her lips instead.
But then, a small blush spreads on her cheeks and I’m not so sure anymore that Florentine is anxious, or maybe not for the same reasons I initially thought.
Fuck.
I want to kiss her.
But then, I stroke the side of her hand again with my pinky and the tingles are back and suddenly I realize it’s all too real.
And that shouldn’t be happening.
Before Florentine’s cheeks darken some more, I’m in the middle of the lab.
Why?
Because I can’t start wanting things I’m not supposed to want, but more than that, I can’t start wanting the only person who could make my situation change.
But she makes you want things …the devil on my shoulder whispers in my ear.
Yes, but I want to be back to normal.
What if it never happens? What if the only thing you’ll ever feel again will be from the hands of the woman you so blatantly flew away from?
There is a saying in old French ‘Un “tiens” vaut mieux que deux “tu l'auras”’ that translates to ‘The one you have here is better than the two you might get’ and right this instant, it’s tearing at me, because what if I never recover?
I might have lost my only chance at kissing Florentine, and I don’t know how to feel about it.
