Deja Who (Insighter #1)(31)
“By all means, rephrase. Then you can explain what you meant about slumming. Then let’s go back to discussing the sleeping pill qualities of your penis.”
“You leave Lieutenant Winky out of this.” She blinked slowly, like an owl, but (thank God!) said nothing. “And you keep those things in there, thank you very much,” he said, pointing at her chest. “No fair stabbing me with them.”
“Ah. What?”
“And I’m not saying you’d be into slumming. But you can’t tell me the thought never even scraped the edge of your mind.”
“What, because I can’t see your lives? That actually makes you much more attractive to me. Most people are so . . .” She shivered. “Crowded. In their minds. All those past regrets and deaths piling on top of each other in their brains . . . no wonder some of them go crazy. Poor things, they deserve better than me.”
“Jeez, don’t say that.” He was honestly horrified that she had such a crap opinion of her skills. “And there aren’t better than you.”
He hoped she’d smile and she did, but it was small and sickly. “That’s their bad luck, and mine. But getting back to you, I don’t know if blind is the right word. I have a theory . . . never mind, it’s boring. But you’re not boring, which is wonderful.”
He snorted, disbelieving. It wasn’t especially pleasant, but he knew many Insighters saw the life-blind as developmentally disabled. You can’t do what billions of people can? What else is wrong with you, you pathetic freak?
“All that aside, I don’t want to be the thing you use to distract yourself from getting murdered. And I won’t tolerate a one-night stand with you.”
“Won’t . . . tolerate?”
He checked the immediate area for knives. All clear. If she went for her bra, he was a dead man. “I’m too greedy,” he said simply. “I want to be more than that to you. So we’re gonna slow down and we’re gonna talk, and then I’m going to walk you to the door like a gentleman, and then I’m going to go upstairs and take a long shower so I can cry and masturbate in peace.”
The pissy look on her face vanished and she cracked up. “Really? You are? That’s . . . ah, God.”
“Yeah. Stop l-laughing.” He stuttered the “l” because he was starting to lose it, too. Did I really just tell that to my future sweetie please God let her be my future sweetie . . . “Not that I’m ruling out casual encounters in general, I just want more with you. Would you honestly be okay with scenarios where we bang so hard and so well you stumble home after pulling the tattered remnants of your clothes back on and I spend the next three days drinking cans of Ensure? Don’t answer that. That was a trick question.”
All at once, he wanted to stock a supply of Ensure.
“I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re so . . .” She gestured to the air as if she could pull down the word she wanted. “. . . uncluttered. Is it nice?”
“Being uncluttered? And I’m ignoring the condescension in your tone, missy.” He was sitting up, ignoring the sullen throb from his pissed-off balls. They would, he knew, make him pay. They’d done it before. “Next you’ll pat me on the head and call me a poor baby.”
“But is it?”
“Sorry, my brain is missing a ton of blood right now and it’ll be another couple of minutes before it catches up. What was the question?”
“Not being afraid all the time.” She had a strange look on her face, part wistful and part “I don’t really care I’m just making polite conversation until we can kiss again.” “Is it nice?”
(Boom that’s it my heart just blew up oh Leah oh shit oh you oh oh oh)
“I’m going to help you,” he said, and Leah’s gaze dropped and she couldn’t look at him as he continued. “We’ll fix this.”
“Nothing to fix.” Now she was standing—yikes, she could move like a cat when she wanted. Standing and, yep, moving for the front door. “You were right. This was a terrible idea.”
“Now,” he yelped, scrambling after her. “It’s a terrible idea now. Later, it’s gonna be the opposite of a terrible idea. I’ll get some Ensure and it’ll be a wonderful terrific idea. Just not now.”
She shrugged, one hand reaching for the doorknob. “Sorry to haul you into my nonsense.”
He blinked at the odd word choice. Nonsense? That’s her mother talking.
“It was very nice meeting you.”
No! Stop! Tilt! Abort!
“Ow!” He shrieked it so loud she whipped around at once. “My wound! Wounds, I mean! They’re burning up and I feel all stabby inside! It’s a fever from an infection and ow-ow-owie! You can’t leave me in mortal agony argh the agony is overwhelming ow-ow!”
She rolled her eyes but, thank God, let go of the door. “Ye gods, Archer. That’s awful. Do not quit the day job.” Pause. “What is the day job, besides stalking me, which we have agreed you shall no longer do?”
“You don’t have the kind of time we’d need for me to explain. Right now, I’m a professional housesitter. It’s how I ended up living here. The pain,” he groaned. “It’s washing everything away, including the ability to let you leave. And also, your breasts are like apples, did you know?”