by M A Gelsey
“If he judges you for that he’s a moron anyway,” Celeste said with a shrug. “And a hypocrite.”
“Well yes and no,” George argued.
“More yes than no,” Celeste said. “He’d be doing the same thing, wouldn’t he? So if he holds it against her, he’s a hypocrite.”
“Calm down Ms. Women’s Studies,” George said, eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’m not saying he should judge her, I’m just saying if he does maybe it’s because he’s looking for someone not like him, which in this case means someone who wouldn’t fuck a person the day after they meet.”
“That’s stupid,” Edgar Prime said without thinking, a comment that earned him an appreciative clap on the back from Celeste and a laugh from George and Hugo. Blake was preoccupied with trying to compose a text with the right degree of detached intrigue.
“Your cup is empty Ed,” Hugo said suddenly. “I’m gonna get you a refill.” He snatched Edgar Prime’s solo cup and pushed his way back through the crowd towards the keg. Edgar Prime watched him go.
Blake’s favorite song started playing and she dragged them all into the center of the room where people were dancing pressed close together out of necessity from the lack of space in the tiny apartment. Edgar Prime felt self-conscious; he had never been a very good dancer. Hugo rejoined them and Edgar Prime downed his second beer in three long gulps to the raucous applause of George and Blake. He refilled his third himself and by the time he’d gotten to his fourth he forgot to feel awkward and danced with abandon to song after song with the rest of them.
At some point Blake and a drunken George started making out, and Celeste gleefully filled him in on their on-and-off history, despite their joint insistence that they were “just friends”. Edgar Prime couldn’t remember having more fun in his entire life. At the end of the night he got to walk back to the dorm with Hugo, and was too drunk to even feel nervous about it. Hugo lived on the third floor and Edgar Prime lived on the fifth; just before Hugo exited the elevator he put a finger to his lips and raised his eyebrows, causing Edgar Prime to laugh aloud. It was with mingled fatigue and euphoria that he staggered back to his room and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
10: ANNABEL
The bedroom was lit only by a bunch of fat candles lining its periphery, each scented with cinnamon and cloves and other spices Annabel could not identify. She supposed the candlelight was meant to be romantic, but she still felt too exposed and would have preferred total darkness.
Rex undressed her slowly, reverently, and she let him do it, trying not to betray any signs of nervousness. She lay back onto the bed once she was naked, fighting the impulse to try to cover herself again. His eyes never left her the whole time he peeled off his own clothes, and after a moment he was naked too, and crawling into bed next to her. His body was lean and muscular with sandy gray hair across his chest and leading down from his belly button. Her eyes darted downward but she averted them almost immediately — he was already fully erect and the sight was one that Annabel found both curious and unnerving.
She expected him to enter her immediately, but he surprised her, running his fingers gently over her body followed by gentle caresses with his mouth. Despite the fact that she was not attracted to him, Annabel could not deny that the sensation was enjoyable enough. At one point he teased her nipples with his tongue and teeth, and she felt a ripple of pleasure and a wetness between her thighs. He continued to move down her body, and she gasped aloud when he stuck his tongue inside her, massaging her with his fingers as he licked and sucked. Before long she felt heat build inside of her and then release in a sweet explosion that she had only experienced a few times before in her life — and those times it had always been her alone and by accident. Annabel’s first reaction afterwards was shock — shock that it had happened and that Rex had been the one to make it happen.
“I haven’t forgotten what you like,” he murmured. He kissed her inner thigh looking immensely pleased with himself, but Annabel felt shy that he had just witnessed something so intimate. He crawled up and kissed her neck and her mouth. His tongue tasted metallic this time.
Just before he entered her he warned, “This will hurt, but only at first. Are you ready?”
Annabel nodded, although she wasn’t sure she was. The first thrust was slow and controlled, but deep. Annabel felt an intense burning sensation, and couldn’t stop her sharp intake of breath. Rex groaned with pleasure, sweat already beginning to slide down his back, chest and stomach. She could tell he was trying his best not to thrust too hard or too fast, but after the first few he seemed unable to help himself and each time Annabel felt a jolt through her whole body. Through the pain there was a strange thrumming pleasure too, and Annabel closed her eyes.
“Oh God,” Rex whispered hoarsely, his breath hot and moist against her ear. “How I’ve missed you, my love.”
Annabel wished he would stop talking so she could concentrate instead on the curious sensation that coexisted with the burning feeling. More than anything, this felt to her like an experiment. And she found herself wondering what it would be like with someone else, someone to whom she was actually attracted.
She mentally chastised herself for thinking such things as her husband continued to thrust in and out of her, consummating their marriage and making her a woman. He bit her neck and moaned her name again as he finished, sweat dripping off his body and mingling with Annabel’s own as he collapsed on top of her. After a moment, he rolled off, wrapped his arms tightly around her, and fell asleep almost immediately.
Annabel lay awake for hours staring at the waning candlelight flickering on the ceiling and feeling like she was being held by a particularly enthusiastic octopus. She wished to twist away from the grip, but didn’t know how to do so without waking Rex, or worse, offending him. I’ll get used to it in time, she told herself, almost managing to believe it.
11: JAVI
Stella poured him a gin and tonic, and even cut a wedge of lime to squeeze into it. Violet and Fred had disappeared from the kitchen, and Javi hoped they were upstairs somewhere or else down in the basement. A vicarious hookup was better than none at all.
She handed him the solo cup and he drank, watching intently as Stella made one for herself too.
“Good?” she asked, glancing up at him.
“Yeah,” Javi said. “So good.” In truth he didn’t notice the taste at all. All his attention was focused on her.
“Can I ask you a question?” Stella said. She finished making her drink and took a sip, looking hesitant.
“Yeah, of course,” Javi said. He was astounded that she was still here talking to him but tried desperately not to show it.
“What’s it like?” she asked.
“What’s what like? The gin and tonic?” He was confused by her question, but didn’t care. As long as he got to keep staring into those greenish hazel eyes, he didn’t much care about anything else.
“What’s it like to be . . . a clone,” she nearly whispered the last word, leaning forward as though telling him a secret.
“I dunno,” Javi said. “I’ve never been anything else.”
“Sorry.” She blushed, and it was a beautiful thing to behold. “I didn’t mean to offend you or anything, I’ve just always been curious.”
“I’m not offended,” Javi said, amazed that she’d ever spared him enough thought to be curious. “I guess it’s pretty normal most of the time. Sometimes it’s weird when I think too much about my original.”
“Your original,” she repeated as though trying out the words and finding them as strange as Javi sometimes did.
“Yeah,” Javi said. “His name was Javier Vasquez too.”
Stella nodded, and it occurred to Javi that she probably already knew that. His story was hardly a secret and had been written about extensively for anyone who cared to search for the information. Herman had told him there was even a whole wikipedia article, although Javi hadn’t been able to bring himself to read it.
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“Do you ever wish you weren’t one?” Stella asked.
Javi shrugged. “More when I was younger than now. I don’t really think about it all that much anymore.” Liar, his subconscious whispered. He pushed the thought aside.
She nodded again like she understood, although of course she couldn’t have. Javi didn’t care though. He thought he’d explode with happiness that Stella Castell wasn’t merely deigning to speak to him, she was actually asking him questions, was interested in him. Not interested interested, but still. She found him worthy of her curiosity, and that was more than Javi had dared hope for.
“What about you?” Javi asked.
“What about me?” she repeated, eyebrows raised.
He felt his cheeks heat up but forced himself to continue. “Got any plans for after graduation?”
The knowing look in her eyes told him she knew exactly what he was doing, that he was grasping at straws simply to keep the conversation going, but for whatever reason she didn’t mock him for it or come up with an excuse to leave. She answered him.
“NYU I think,” she said. “And you?”
“Georgetown,” he replied without hesitation. He decided right then and there that his parents’ expectations for him could fuck off. Besides, D. C. wasn’t so far from New York. “But my parents want me to go to Stanford.”
“How come?” Stella asked. “Georgetown is a good school.”
Javi shrugged again. “It’s closer to home. But mostly because that’s where he wanted to go. My original.” Javi didn’t know why he was confiding this in her.
Her eyes widened slightly but she didn’t say anything for a moment. Just as he was cursing himself for making her feel awkward and ruining everything she said, “Have you started studying for our Chinese midterm yet?”
“N-no, not really,” Javi stammered, thrown by the abrupt change of topic.
“Me neither,” Stella said. “We should study together sometime. I’m still not very good at differentiating all the tones.”
“Neither am I,” Javi admitted. “But maybe it’d be easier practicing with someone else.” His heart was hammering and his hands sweating as he handed her his phone to put her number in. When she’d finished she smiled at him.
“I’ve gotta get back. My boyfriend Kato is probably wondering where I disappeared to,” Stella said. “Text me tomorrow and we can figure out when to meet up.”
“I will,” said Javi, barely concerned with her casual reference to her handsome scholar-athlete boyfriend. She wanted to study with him. Stella Castell had just given him her phone number, like it was nothing.
She threw one more dazzling smile his way then turned to leave the kitchen. He watched her go, eyes roving up and down her long, toned legs and the perfect curve of her ass. The room seemed dimmer when she was gone. Javi closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath to suppress the urge to jump up and down and whoop. He didn’t stop grinning for the rest of the night.
12: EDGAR PRIME
It had been the best night of his life, but the hangover the next morning was awful. He dreamed he was inside a bell tower that was being rung over and over again until he realized that the noise was just his phone on the floor next to him. It sounded unnaturally loud and he winced as he reached for it, feeling like his head was being split open by a giant with a hammer and chisel.
Patrice Zhao’s name lit up on his screen as the phone continued to ring, and he answered it with an aggravated swipe of his finger, letting his head fall back onto his pillow with a groan.
“Edgar Prime?” came Patrice’s concerned voice on the other line. “Is something wrong?”
Edgar Prime bit back a scathing remark about how robotic she always sounded when she spoke to him. It wouldn’t do to offend Dr. Midas’s favorite research fellow.
“I go by ‘Ed’ now,” Edgar Prime said through gritted teeth.
“All right, I’ll make a note of that, Ed,” said Patrice, unflappably professional as ever.
“I don’t want to be rude Patrice, but why are you calling so early?” Edgar Prime asked.
Patrice snorted. “You should be thanking me. You have class in thirty minutes.”
“I don’t have class ‘til 9:15,” muttered Edgar Prime. There was no way it could be 8:45 already, was there?
“Up and at ‘em,” Patrice said. She seemed to be enjoying this.
Edgar Prime sat up and stifled another groan. “Thanks for the wakeup call, Patrice. Gotta go.”
He took the phone away from his ear and hung up even though he could still hear Patrice talking. Knowing she’d call again, Edgar Prime switched his phone to silent and stood up too quickly, fighting off a wave of dizziness. After standing still for a moment, he stumbled down the hall towards the bathroom.
Stepping out of a hot shower a few minutes later, Edgar Prime felt marginally more alert, but it did nothing to calm the throbbing in his head. As he pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, his phone blinked insistently from where he’d tossed it on his bed, informing him that Patrice had called again and left him a voicemail.
Snatching up the phone and swinging his backpack over his shoulder, Edgar Prime shoved his feet into a pair of flip-flops and left the room, hoping his professor wouldn’t notice as he slipped into class late. Edgar Prime listened to Patrice’s voicemail as he strode purposefully across campus, each step accompanied by a surge of pain radiating through his head.
“Hi Ed, it’s Patrice. You hung up before I could remind you that Dr. Midas is taking you to Zurich next week to present at the International Congress of Genetics, so make sure you tell your professors that you’ll have to miss your classes during that time. I’ve emailed you the itinerary, but please call if you have any questions.” A beep signaled the end of the message.
Edgar Prime stuffed his phone into his bag and suppressed yet another groan. This would be the third time Dr. Midas dragged him along to be presented at the International Congress of Genetics. For all the promises about it being a spectacular learning experience and an honor for Edgar Prime to attend, he knew the truth: he was little more than walking, talking evidence of the genius behind Dr. Midas’s greatest experiment. The only thing Edgar Prime could honestly say he liked about the I.C.G. was that it only convened once every five years.
With this gloomy reminder hanging over his head, Edgar Prime slowly pulled open the door to his Elements of Political Theory lecture, which had only just begun. He took care to close the door quietly, the shuffled along the last row and slid into an empty seat as Professor Richards said in a ringing voice, “Thomas Hobbes described the life of man as ‘solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short’. Cheerful guy, wasn’t he?”
A few students chuckled, and Edgar Prime smiled in spite of himself. Professor Richards was a pale, thin man with sandy blonde hair, but despite his unassuming looks he still managed to captivate every last one of the fifty students in his class. He was somehow charismatic enough to make Elements of Political Theory seem sexy. Several girls in the front row were hanging onto his every word, occasionally whispering things to each other that Edgar Prime felt certain they’d be mortified for their professor to hear.
Edgar Prime took dutiful notes on Leviathan for the next 75 minutes although he’d have preferred to put his head down on the desk for a nap — he’d only gotten a few hours of sleep the night before after all, and his hangover was worse than ever. Still, he knew that in a less mentally-foggy state he’d enjoy reading more about Hobbes, who he thought must have been the king of all pessimists.
When the class was dismissed, Edgar Prime sighed and gathered up his books before trudging to the front of the room to speak with Professor Richards about having to miss the following week for the I.C.G.
“I understand,” Professor Richards said after Edgar Prime had explained the situation. “It sounds like a great honor to be invited.”
“I suppose,” Edgar Prime muttered, looking down at his feet. He’d just as soon be spared the honor a
nd the curiosity.
Edgar Prime glanced up to see Professor Richards giving him a knowing look. “It must be strange for people to be so interested in you for something you didn’t ask for or do yourself,” he said.
“Yeah,” Edgar Prime said. “It’s — well, there are a lot of expectations.”
Professor Richards nodded sympathetically.
“Send me an email reminder and I’ll give you the slides for next week,” Professor Richards said, back to business. “When you get back you can come to my office hours to go over anything you’d like to talk more about. And try to find some time to enjoy Zurich while you’re there. It’s a beautiful city.”
Edgar Prime gave him a small smile. “I will. Thank you.”
Professor Richards gave him another amiable nod, and Edgar Prime left the classroom. He made his way to the student-run coffee shop on the ground floor of the building, deciding he needed to get a coffee before his Linear Algebra lecture if he was to have even the slightest hope of staying awake.
While in line, Edgar Prime allowed his thoughts to drift back to the night before. He hadn’t realized how much he was missing out on before, but seeing how Blake, George, Celeste, and Hugo interacted with each other made him long for that sort of companionship as well. Of course, they’d all welcomed him into their group but he knew it was most likely short-lived. He didn’t deceive himself — at best they were taken with the novelty of spending a night drinking with the first-ever human clone. He knew it was only a matter of time before that novelty wore off.
There had been times while they were all dancing and sweating that Edgar Prime had longed to press Hugo’s long, lean body against the wall and kiss him, but he didn’t dare. He did not want to face Hugo’s inevitable rejection and pity.
“You look like you’ve seen better days,” said a voice off to his right, making Edgar Prime jump. He turned to see Celeste looking statuesque and not at all like someone who had been up ‘til 3:00am that morning.
