She sighed and leaned against the back of the couch. Aside from the laboratory work piling up, she should be weightlifting and running today, but she couldn’t muster the energy to change into her workout clothes. She’d rarely let her fitness regimen slide before, conscientious of the shape she’d need to be in during the trip. Even with the onboard workout machines, the reality was that she’d lose most of her muscle mass in transit. The exoskeletons would help, but she didn’t like having to rely solely on technology to perform basic functions like walking ten feet. Today, Ana simply couldn’t find the will to care. What was one day off over the course of years, anyway? She’d start again tomorrow, doubling up on her efforts. Pushing the guilt from her mind, she considered how to spend her impromptu day off, but nothing in particular seemed worth doing. Her mind kept leading her back to one thought: Jolie.
Even as she questioned her fixation, she touched her wrist and brought up the messaging platform. What are you up to? She waited a few minutes for Jolie to reply, but nothing came. She didn’t want to seem too pushy, especially since they’d only been living together a few weeks. Besides, she told herself, she really didn’t need Jolie around to have a nice day. Adamant about enjoying her independence, she pulled on a pair of hiking boots and set out to walk the property. It was a rectangle, about thirty acres in all, that extended from her driveway back to some fallow fields that hadn’t been farmed in decades. The land contained meadows and forest, including a swath of maples and oaks lining a river that cut diagonally through the parcel. The river wasn’t wide or very deep in most parts, but there was one bend in which the water had carved a deep trench over hundreds of years. Hanging from an old white oak branch near the far bank was a length of rope, and she’d spent many hot summer days swinging into the river, or sitting on the bank with a book. Beyond that was an apple orchard, long untended, yet still yielding more than enough fruit. She walked there now, relishing in the sunlight and warm air of autumn.
To get to the orchard, she had to find a section of the river with exposed rocks, which involved walking several hundred yards along the bank. It had rained heavily this year, so the water level was higher than normal and obscured all but the tops of the stones she usually used to bridge the river. Across the water, she could see the edge of the orchard, waxy apples shining through like Christmas ornaments. She had once tried to control the bittersweet that cloaked the trees, but its relentless growth was impossible to contain. Still, the old orchard produced well into November, and she could pick enough to store for an entire year while giving the rest away.
Ana walked farther down the river bank until she found an oak tree that must have been uprooted in a recent storm. The trunk was sturdy enough that she walked across easily, jumping onto the other bank with a satisfying thump. She followed an overgrown dirt path that ran through the orchard, eventually leading to the ruins of a house that had stood abandoned since the late twentieth century. The breeze carried a hint of sweetness from the ripe apples, and Ana inhaled deeply, her mouth watering.
She found a tree on the edge that was somewhat exposed to the sunlight and picked a perfectly ripe Cortland. Wiping off the natural waxy coating on her pants, she bit into the tart flesh. This, she would miss. Her own little plot of land, her apple orchard, the smell of the dirt-road dust as the wind kicked it into the air. She’d have to bring Jolie here to show her where she’d be able to harvest apples, and to see the look on her face when she discovered that she had access to an entire orchard in addition to the existing garden. Though she’d mentioned growing up on a farm, Ana would have thought that she’d never seen a vegetable in her life. She took too much joy in the piles of fresh produce in the fridge and root cellar.
Ana picked a few more apples to take back, and made her way toward the river. She hoped Jolie would be home when she got back, but she was probably busy, at school or hanging out with her actual friends, like Nova. She still winced when she recalled their conversation in the truck. Did she have to be so obvious about where her interest lay? Ana sighed and slowed her pace to a meander. As she approached the house, she watched for movement inside.
“Anybody home?” she asked tentatively from the doorway. Her heart sank when she received no response, and she felt an unfamiliar loneliness. She’d been happy living alone until she wasn’t. Something had changed. She wanted company, and she increasingly wanted it to be Jolie. Ana put the apples into a bowl on the coffee table and took out a container. She walked to the back, past the bedrooms and the bathroom, past the lab where she should be working, and into the terrarium. The spherical structure reminded her of a snow globe, and indeed, if it were shaken hard enough, she could imagine the pollen floating from the flowers like snowflakes.
Through years of careful experimentation, Ana determined that these were the optimal growing conditions to produce the amount of food needed to sustain three people indefinitely. In deployment, there would be several domes producing much more food, but this was sufficient for now. She produced so much between the garden, her orchard, and the terrarium that it was impossible to go through it all in one year. She usually left produce for the local food bank to pick up, or gave it to her grateful students, who barely had time to eat, let alone grow their own food.
Ana used a bowl to harvest potatoes that grew in hanging baskets along the sides of the terrarium. The potatoes filled the flexible mesh so that she could tell exactly where each tuber was by the bulge it produced. She carefully lifted each plant and clipped off the larger potatoes, setting the rest back inside so that they would continue to grow. With a gene modification, she had created a variety of potato that would produce generously for years before the top eventually died off and she had to replant. The more longevity she could get out of her flora, the more successful the mission would be in the long run. On her way out, she picked some soybeans off lush green plants, and gathered handfuls of blueberries.
She carried her basket through the air locked door and back into the kitchen. The silence remained disconcerting. Still no sign of Jolie. Oh well, she thought. “Cass, would you put on some music? Something jazzy.”
Taylor Moroney’s voice filled the room and Ana instantly felt better. One of her favorite things to do when she was growing was help her mother cook dinner while they both sang along to the latest Moroney hits. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d listened to this album, or done something fun with her mother, but she hadn’t forgotten any of the words. She hummed as she scrubbed the dirt off the potatoes.
Most days, she cooked simply, throwing whatever she had into a pot without much thought, and eating it for lunch and dinner. It wasn’t her job to cook for the crew, and she didn’t have the creativity to imagine dozens of ways to serve a small number of ingredients. She’d come up with something good that first night when she’d just met Jolie, but since then, her imagination had run dry.
“Hey, Cass. Some recipes with the ingredients I have here?”
“Three choices on your countertop,” she replied.
Ana settled on roasted potatoes and soybeans with a honey mustard glaze. For dessert, fresh blueberries with whipped yogurt from some milk she’d picked up earlier in the week. Perfect, she thought. If Jolie happened to come back in time, Ana would have the chance to impress her with a good, home cooked meal. They hadn’t had much time to eat together since that first night, with school in full swing and Ana pulled into unexpected meetings.
She followed the recipe the way a scientist would, with unnecessary detail and precision. She was in the process of whipping the yogurt for exactly five minutes, zero seconds, and singing loudly to “You’ve Got Me Feelin’ Real Good” when the front door burst open.
“You have an amazing voice,” Jolie said as she entered, wiping sweat from her forehead. “Seriously. You sound just like her.”
“Jesus,” Ana cried, putting a hand to her chest. “You scared me. I didn’t realize I was that loud.”
“Window’s open,” Jolie said nonchalantly a
s she pointed to a window by the door. She smiled genuinely. “It was good.”
How long had she been listening? Ana’s cheeks burned. She set down the whisk and watched a droplet of sweat make its way from Jolie’s forehead to the base of her neck. Her face glowed and she could see the outline of a sports bra underneath the thin white fabric.
She remembered what she was doing before Jolie came in. “Are you hungry? I’m making lunch.”
“I already had lunch at school, but I think it’s safe to say I burned that off. I could eat,” Jolie said. She leaned heavily on the kitchen island as she stretched her legs, giving Ana an excellent view of her cleavage.
“So, what have you been up to today?” Ana concentrated every ounce of willpower into not gazing at her chest.
“I was in the studio all morning, which was amazing,” Jolie said. “I never had a Sunday morning all to myself until I moved here, you know? Then I had lunch with Nova. She wants to know how much of a pain in the ass I am to live with.”
“A huge one.” Ana snickered.
“Speak for yourself, Miss Up-At-All-Hours-Of-The-Night Scientist Lady.” Ana’s face must have fallen because Jolie added, “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. You don’t wake me up or anything. I’m going to jump in the shower, so just call me when the food’s ready. But don’t come and get me. We know how that worked out last time.”
The wicked look on Jolie’s face challenged Ana’s ability to stand. As she watched Jolie practically skip out of the room in her very short running shorts, her hair bouncing in its ponytail, she hardly noticed that she was holding her breath.
Chapter Seven
“That was excellent,” Jolie said as she patted her stomach. “You should become a chef. Seriously, you could open up your own little restaurant and feed the masses with everything you’ve got out here. I’ll be the hostess.”
Ana’s cheeks flushed at the thought of Jolie being a hostess. “Sounds like a plan to me. You’d have to be the hostess, the waitress, and the marketing department. I’ll be too busy trying to figure out how to cook.” The album was on its third run through, and Ana’s head swam with the seductive music.
Jolie laughed. “Seems like you figured it out. It’s nice to have someone cook for me who isn’t paid to do it.” She tucked her damp hair behind her ears and adjusted the collar of her polo shirt.
Ana studied her unabashedly for a moment before she spoke. “It’s nice to have someone to cook for.” Jolie looked away and a funny feeling settled in Ana’s stomach.
Jolie cleared her throat. “Between the two of us, if we eat like this every night, we’ll be living in the lap of luxury. All we need is a mud mask and a hot stone massage.” She closed her eyes and leaned back against the couch.
Ana thought for a moment. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
“Oh, Ana, you don’t—”
“Just wait.” Ana darted out of the room down the hall. She opened a section of the wall near the bathroom that served as her overflow bathroom storage, and found a jar of clay she’d had for years and never used. Whether she’d bought it or it had been given to her, she didn’t know, but she was glad to have it now. On her way back to the couch, she took a late season cucumber from the fridge.
“You don’t do anything half-assed, do you?” Jolie sat on the couch, watching with amusement as Ana moved quickly around the kitchen.
“Why do it half-assed when you can have a full-on face mask just like I’ve seen in the movies? Seriously, I’ve never done this.” She returned to the couch with nervous energy and placed a small bowl of cucumber slices next to the clay mixture. “You first.”
Jolie smiled and dipped her hand into the clay. “Just make sure I don’t miss any spots.”
Ana watched her as she expertly smoothed it across her forehead and cheekbones, then her nose. “You’ve clearly done this before.” She scooped out some clay and started haphazardly painting her own face with it.
Jolie laughed and shook her head. “Come here.” She added some clay to Ana’s face around her temples and nose. Ana’s heart raced at Jolie’s touch, and she was thankful to have the mask as a barrier to her flushed cheeks.
“There. Now lay back and close your eyes,” Jolie said.
Ana slumped into the couch. She felt Jolie place the cucumber on her eyelids and instantly relaxed. She moaned. “You were absolutely correct. This is the way to live.”
“I know a few things. I’m going to do your nails. Hold on, let me get my nail polish.”
“What? I thought you were supposed to be relaxing.” Ana already felt her skin tightening uncomfortably as the clay dried.
“Oh, come on. Your nails are full of dirt. I promise I’ll make them look good.”
She heard Jolie pad down the hall and into her room and return a moment later. Zippers were unzipped and dishes were arranged on the coffee table. Ana’s hands were placed in a bowl of warm water. “Why?” she asked.
“Let it soak for a minute. I have to do your cuticles.”
“You do?”
Jolie laughed and said, “Trust me, I used to do this with my friends all the time. What do you want on your nails?”
“Nail polish, I guess?”
“Okay, you are officially banned from making creative decisions. Obviously nail polish. What color, genius?”
Ana heard metal clanking against the table. “I don’t know. You’re the artist. Are you sure you’re not going to torture me with whatever that is? It sounds sharp.”
“Oh, you wish.”
Ana laughed uncomfortably and shifted in her seat. “How am I supposed to wash this off my face if you’re working on my cuticles?”
“Here, take your hand out and go wash it off now. I have to get some design inspiration anyway.”
Ana picked the cucumbers off her eyes and blinked at the brightness of the room. Jolie’s face was covered in light and dark splotches of clay. She concentrated hard on a projection from her bracelet in front of her. “You look ridiculous,” she said as she scooted down the hall into the bathroom.
When she returned, Jolie was waiting eagerly for her. “Are you ready?” she asked. “This is going to be epic. Also, this is a great album and everything, but can we please listen to something else?”
“Anything you want. Call on Cassiopeia and tell her.” Ana sat on the couch and returned her hands to the cooling water.
“Okay, Cassiopeia, play some good old bluegrass music,” she said to the room, then turned to Ana and shrugged. “It’s a family thing. My mom used to put it on when we couldn’t sleep. My grandma used to do the same for her and my aunts. I can’t imagine how it worked, but it relaxes me for some reason.”
“Never listened to much bluegrass.” The first twangs of a banjo filled the room, and Ana found herself bobbing her head along to the music.
“It’s good, right? Give me your hand.” Jolie proceeded to massage Ana’s right hand with lavender oil. Ana felt the pressure all over her body as warm hands slid over her skin. It was all she could do not to moan.
She needed a distraction. “Tell me something I don’t know about you,” she said suddenly.
“That leaves a lot.” Jolie moved onto the other hand. “Nova wasn’t always my best friend. We dated for a month when I first got to college.”
Ana watched Jolie’s fingers dig into her palms, activating muscles she didn’t realize she had, and sending waves of pleasure through her. Her body buzzed at this unexpected information. Confirmation that Jolie was interested in women. The air between them shifted dangerously. “What happened?” she asked.
“Some people are better as friends.” She placed Ana’s hand on top of a towel that rested on her knee and began to work on her cuticles. “Your turn.”
Ana thought for a moment. “I’m a biochemist.”
“The lab that you have in your house gave that away, genius. Also, I’m pretty sure you told me you taught biochem in one of our first conversations.”
“Well, did you kn
ow that I conduct research in alternative drug delivery and tweaking the body to cure itself?”
“Okay, that’s definitely cooler than what I imagined.” Jolie glanced up at Ana. “Is it weird, though? You must be the same age as some of your students.”
“They don’t seem to mind. I’m clearly the smartest one in the room, anyway.” She smirked and Jolie laughed.
“Brains, beauty, you’ve got it all.”
Ana’s pulse raced and she struggled to discern whether there was anything behind that comment. All the comments, really. Was Jolie flirting with her? She couldn’t take this uncertain in-between she felt with Jolie anymore. She needed to know the facts, analyze them, and figure out where they stood. “Remember when I asked you if Nova was hitting on me?”
“Yeah, of course.” Jolie laughed. “Oh, and she confirmed that she was. You’re not as clueless as you think you are.”
“Okay, well, good to know. So, what about you?”
“What about me what?”
“Are you hitting on me? Just, you know, my brains and scientific reasoning skills kicking in,” Ana said, smirking.
Jolie’s eyebrows shot up and she put the cuticle pusher down. “What if I am?”
“Then I’d say that you have an awful lot of confidence for somebody whose face is covered in mud.”
Jolie burst out laughing. “Point taken. Next time, I’ll be sure to wash my face beforehand.” She picked up the tool again and continued working on Ana’s nails.
Ana almost fainted at Jolie’s nonchalance. She hadn’t even flinched. “You know, I think I have some work in the lab to do, actually. Maybe nails another time?”
The Universe Between Us Page 5
