The Loneliest Girl in the Universe(53)

“How am I ever supposed to believe that, J? I don’t even know what’s real any more. The UPR – are they real or fake? I still don’t know!”

“Oh, Romy.” J shakes his head. “I’m sorry. The UPR are real. I can see why you would hope they weren’t, though. I wish they weren’t too.”

“But – the coordinates…”

He frowns. “All messages from Earth have to be retransmitted to you from The Eternity’s transponder, because my ship blocks the path of the signal from there. The messages wouldn’t reach you otherwise. Is that what you’re talking about?”

I swallow. Why didn’t I think of that? “Even if … even if the UPR really are in control of our ships, even if their requests are real, there are so many other things that you made up.”

“By the end, I wasn’t putting on a front any more, I swear. Those emails were all me. OK, some of the facts about my life were taken from that TV show. I never dropped out of medical school – I’ve actually got a degree in engineering. And I don’t pull pranks on people like Jayden does. But the real stuff – the emotions – that was all me.

“I think after a while, it turned into more than just collecting information. I started to look forward to talking to you. I wasn’t expecting us to have so much in common. I showed you more of myself than I ever meant to. We have a genuine bond like I’ve never felt with anyone before. I fought it for a long time, because I thought I was supposed to hate you, for my parents. But I can’t any longer.”

I’m silent. I’m too torn up, too impossibly lost, to know how to reply to that.

“I wish things had gone differently,” I say into the quiet. “I wish we could have met properly – nicely – without you playing any of these games.”

I see his Adam’s apple dip as he swallows. “We can still have that. We can start again. Pretend none of this ever happened?”

I hesitate.

I don’t trust him. Not at all. How can I? But surely whatever he’s done, it’s not worth being condemned to this life alone in space. Right?

There’s still a part of me that isn’t convinced – that remembers how it felt when he grabbed at my knee in the tunnel.

“We don’t even have to open the airlock,” he adds, looking into the camera with eyes that are full of remorse. “I can stay on The Infinity and you can stay on The Eternity. We don’t ever have to open the door, if you don’t want to. Just please don’t leave me here.”

With that, I’m decided. I wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt of abandoning him in space. He can stay on my old ship and I can stay here. We’ll travel together, but I’ll be safe.

“I’m going to come back and get you,” I say.

J smiles, so widely that I can see his perfectly straight teeth. He lifts his arm to run a hand through his golden hair and that’s when I notice the background in the video.

He’s standing in front of a wall. A mint-green wall.

Mint. Green.

I know every inch of my ship. There is no mint green anywhere. Not a single centimetre of The Infinity is painted mint green.

He’s on The Eternity.

A shudder rolls down my back. I bite my tongue to stop a gasp. I thought I’d escaped. I thought I was safe. He’s on the ship, hiding from me. Pretending he isn’t.

He could be anywhere. He could be right behind me.

I force myself not to turn my head and look, even though the hairs on the back of my neck are tingling.

“Oh, Romy,” he says, oozing affection. “Thank you so much.”

I force my face into a grimacing smile. I nod.

I believed his lies, again. I fell right into another of his traps.

“I thought I’d destroyed everything.” He ducks his head and looks up at me through his eyelashes.

“Me too,” I say. I can actually feel my heart breaking all over again. He looks so sincere. How is he so good at this? Why is he even doing these things to me? What did I do to deserve this?

I force myself to smile again. Be sweet. Be gentle. Be light.

“I’ll tell the ship to come back for you now,” I say, the words coming out brittle, however hard I try. “I’ll talk to you soon, OK?”

J nods, and smiles a contented smile. He winks. “See you soon.”

I make a weak noise in reply, then disconnect the call. The second his face disappears, I spin round, checking the room.

He’s not here.

“Computer, lock the helm door,” I say, loud and fast. “Don’t allow access to anyone under any circumstances.”

“Door locked,” the computer confirms.

I’m not convinced. “Will anyone be able to override the lock and get in? Anyone at all?”

“Negative. Access will be restricted to Romy Silvers only.”

“Are you absolutely sure?” I can’t trust this. Whatever the computer says, J will find a way around it. He’s too clever. Too good at programming the software to do what he wants, like with the power malfunctions.

“Only administrators can override a user command.”

I speak around clenched teeth. “Are there any administrators on board the ship, right now?”

“Negative.”