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“…you aren’t about to punch me, are you?”
If she rolled her eyes any harder, they would’ve fallen out of her skull. “If I wanted to, I would’ve done that earlier. Just please be quiet and stand still.”
She has to stand on her toes to close the distance between your respective heights. The faintest scent of lavender shampoo teases at your senses as her lips brush gently against your cheek. Your eyes widen, but before you even have time to react, she withdraws quickly.
“You don’t have to pay me back for the film,” she says, a light blush on her cheeks and what you think is a seductive grin. “For helping me save the <span class="mu-i">Olympia’s</span> black box.”
Numbly, you bring a hand to the spot against your cheek. That…had been completely unexpected. “Then what was…this for?”
The red deepens, and Gully has to swallow before continuing. “Payment for the photo. Proof of Yohana Elishani and Sinleq Unami’s existence. You shot it, and it would’ve been yours otherwise. I…changed my mind. I want this one, too.”
A kiss for a photo.
You honestly don’t know what to say.
Once more, Gully reaches into her jacket pocket, pulling out the notebook. Much like your prior photo, the selfie disappears within the pages, and she gathers the rest of them to stuff into your pocket. “…and I think that after everything today and tonight, after what I shared with you…you’ve earned it.”
“Earned what?” you ask.
“…Yohana. I’ll answer to either that or ‘Gully’, but I won’t get mad if you use my real name.”
A privilege reserved only for three people – her parents and XO Geary. Coincidentally, the same intrepid individuals who know her secret about the escape pod. Sinleq Unami is now two-for-two within Yohana ‘Gully’ Elishani’s inner circle of confidants.
You swallow the lump in your throat and clear it in an attempt to reign in the blush on your cheeks, and the wild, racing feeling within your heart. Glancing up towards the sky, now well into evening, you cautiously ask: “…so what’s next. Yohana?”
She blinks, frowning. “…that’s gonna take some getting used to.”
“I’ll save it for our berth, then,” you suggest, then check yourself at the slip of the tongue.
‘Our berth’, as if you were sharing bunks.
Best not to get ahead of yourself. Even if it seems that there’s some mutual attraction between the two of you. It is starting to scab over, but the Caroline-sized wound in your heart is a long away from being completely healed.
But she doesn’t seem to notice or otherwise mind. “…that’s fine. We’ll have practice getting used to it.”
Clearing your throat, you repeat, “So what’s next? It’s getting a little late.”
Gully thinks on it. It doesn’t take long for the light of an epiphany to fill her eyes, and she hurriedly checks her watch. “I know a photocopier in Pearl District. Stingy, but he does good work. If we run, we can still make it.”
(cont.)
