Page 37 of Even Robots Die (Even Ever After #3)

Florentine

I t turns out I don’t know how to do nothing.

I’ve been in my room for what feels like forever but is, as a matter of fact, only about forty minutes, and I’m already bored out of my mind. I’ve called my sisters. Only Amélie answered. I’m not too surprised, but at least she updated me on life back home.

They’re not doing too bad. The city, on the other hand … it’s a shit show.

The lockdown is worse than ever. People are getting arrested for no reason. And when they don’t get arrested, they disappear.

It’s not a good time to live in Paris and it’s really making me antsy that I’m not doing anything right now.

It’s not even ten in the evening. I could be in the lab. I could double check the coding. I could work on the second part of the programming.

I’m starting to think Brice enjoys being an asshole, but if tonight is any indication, there might be more to him if all his emotions weren’t dead.

This is it.

I’ve rested enough.

I stand from where I was sitting on the bed and walk to the door.

Only to find Brice right in front of me when I open the door.

“What did I tell you, Miss Furious?” he asks with a smirk.

He’s only wearing pajama pants. Nothing else.

As I take a step back, he leans against the doorframe just a few centimeters away from my face.

I should be angry that he’s been guarding my door ever since I came back to my room so I don’t go out, but I have a feeling he actually came straight from his bed.

It might be the fact he’s only wearing pajama pants, or that he didn’t even bother with shoes, or maybe that the wild strands of hair that usually fall on top of his forehead are now sticking in any direction but the usual one.

It gives me an unobstructed view of the white line that circles the top of his forehead.

“I just needed to stretch my legs,” I answer because that’s the only thing that comes to my mind.

It’s not like I can say I needed to go to the toilets or that I was hungry. There seem to be toilets in every room in this damn castle and I ate both our plates of pasta less than an hour ago.

“I’ll go with you,” Brice answers me and I stop short.

“What? Like this?” I sputter.

“Any problem with my outfit, Miss Furious?” he asks, and it’s like that smirk that appeared when I opened the door is stuck on his face because it hasn’t disappeared ever since.

“Your lack of outfit, you mean?” I ask instead of answering, because yes, I do like those dark blue pajama pants that hang too low for my own sanity.

What did we say earlier? I could be his daughter. He sees me as something akin to a daughter. No eying of his toned abs or how his pecs look like pillows.

No. I need to stay focused. I can’t look like I’m hungry when I just ate. I can’t look like I want to trace any and all the valleys and dips and divots on his chest and see if my fingers bring me to the tantalizing line of his pajama pants.

“It’s the perfect outfit if I need to shift,” he tells me, his eyes never leaving mine.

“You’re not going to shift as far as I know,” I answer him, glad that I finally found something to focus on other than what is right under my eyes.

“You never know,” he tells me as he gets even closer to me. “But what’s your excuse?”

I look down at myself. I’m in my pajamas too. It’s a large shirt that almost hides the shorts I’m wearing under it. It’s not much, but it’s still covering me much more than Brice is covered.

“Don’t tell me you think my shorts are too short and that I shouldn’t go out like this,” I bite back. “It’s been established for centuries now that I can do whatever I want with my own body. I know you’re old, but you’re not so old that you would forget.”

Brice chuckles.

“You seem to forget that you’re not wearing any shoes either,” he answers me, amused. “I quite like the shorts.”

He adds the last part so low and without making his lips move that I’m not even sure if he really said it or if I dreamed it.

It can’t be true, though.

“I like walking without any shoes on,” I tell him with a shrug.

I’m not saying that not to lose face in front of him—okay, maybe a tiny bit, but it’s true nonetheless—I do like to feel the coolness of the stone under my feet when it’s hot outside.

Not so much when it’s winter and my feet are already freezing cold, though.

But we’re far from winter and the weather has been clement these days, even if the trees are obviously getting their autumnal shades already.

It’s mid-September, so it’s kind of expected around here.

“Then we’re all set to go,” Brice answers, and it takes me a second to realize what he means.

He wants to go on a walk with me.

Dear God, why is that man so stubborn?

And why am I, too?

Because, obviously, I’m going to follow through. I said I needed to stretch my legs after all, so I’m going to go walk with him, even if it’s the last thing I want to do right now.

But, if I don’t, he’ll know. He’ll know my only plan was to sneak back into the lab and work until my brain turns silent from exhaustion.

Because that’s the problem when you have my kind of brain. It never stops.

This is why I keep creating. This is why even if I have a lot to do when I’m home, I still have time to work on a new design or on making a better version of what already exists.

Because that thing won’t stop. It never does. So I have to pick between sleepless nights or passing out from exhaustion.

I passed out last night.

Now my brain won’t let me sleep.

And if I don’t get busy with coding or anything remotely related to work, I know my brain will focus on something else.

Like making up stories in my mind.

Like making up stories in my mind, starring Brice.

I know it.

That’s why I needed to go to the lab.

But this sounds even worse, because now I get to spend more time with him and it’s surely going to fuel my mind with more images.

I’m still stuck where I was standing when Brice realizes I didn’t move when he decided his words were enough to state this walk was a thing.

He walks back to me without a word and stops against the doorframe again.

Is it hot in there? Or maybe it’s just me?

“Did you change your mind and decide you want to go to bed instead?” he asks as he passes his left hand through his hair.

Fuck. This is hot.

Why does he make it sound like much more than just going to sleep ?

This man shouldn’t be authorized to say things like that. It sets my body on fire and I don’t think I’ll be able to make that fire die.

“I can tuck you in if you need,” he tells me with what I would call mock seriousness, even if I’m not even sure it’s in the spectrum of what he can currently experience.

At least it has the desired effect.

No, I don’t want him to tuck me in. I don’t trust myself. If he gets this close, I might try to bring him to bed with me, and we all know how that ends.

Me being rejected and looking like an idiot.

And I still have to work here for days with all the coding I still have to do.

I’d have to stay hidden for the rest of those days and seeing as he was waiting at my door just minutes ago, I don’t think he would leave me in peace.

We walk along the corridor in silence. We pass the entrance of the castle and cross to the front square. I can feel the uneven ground under my bare feet, and for the first time tonight, I feel grounded.

A sigh escapes me.

“I could almost believe you now,” Brice finally breaks the silence.

I’m feeling too good to answer his barb. I know what he means, but my lack of answer must make him believe I forgot what I said earlier because he feels the need to add something.

“That you wanted to stretch your legs.”

“I know what you meant,” I answer him as I tip my head to the sky. The sun isn’t up anymore, but some of its light is still painting the sky in orange and pink streaks and the moon has already taken the sun’s place. I can’t see any stars yet, either. “I just chose not to answer you.”

Brice chuckles but doesn’t comment any more. He sits on the bench right next to where I’m standing.

“Couldn’t you find a bench any closer?” I ask, trying to emulate the bored tone he’s always using.

I’m not bored. I can feel the heat coming off of his body even at the distance he’s sitting, and it’s already unsettling.

I close my eyes and let the light breeze move my hair around my face. It only lasts a second though, because the heat at my side becomes burning hot and I open my eyes to see that Brice moved down the bench to be closer to me.

“Dude, don’t tell me sarcasm isn’t part of your panel of knowledge.

That’s not an emotion, you can’t tell me that’s not something you can’t comprehend,” I tell him and I want it to be vehement, but I can still feel the wind against my skin and it feels so good in contrast to his heat, and all the heat of my voice dies down.

“Don’t ‘dude’ me,” Brice tells me with his eyes darkening. “I’m not your friend.”

“Don’t think I don’t know that,” I mumble to myself, knowing perfectly well that he will hear me. “Do you prefer I call you ‘my jailer’? Or maybe ‘boss’?” I ask him, and this time a bit of my snark finally slips through my voice.

“‘Boss’ has a nice ring to it,” Brice says and I can see his smile stretch on his right cheek into a wicked smirk.

What have I done?