Free Evolution by Sam Kadence

poured over me like a suffocating fog, and I couldn’t breathe. Fear forced me to freeze in place, sucking in tiny bits of air. “Now you’re afraid? You pursued me until I want to strangle you, hold you down, and pound into you. Now here I am, and you don’t want me.” He sounded frustrated, but I couldn’t see him through the charcoal mist until it began to edge away.
    “I do so want you. You just got really dark, that’s all. The shadows make it hard to breathe.”
    He stilled, eyes studying my face; the anger grew more subtly this time. I watched it build while tiny shadows curled around the edges of his skin. Small changes in light, some would say, but I knew what to look for.
    “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make you angry. Maybe I can sing for you?” Maybe then the shadows would ease and he’d go back to his not-so-subtle seduction.
    He laughed so hard he had to roll away from me. The fuzziness flowed away, as did the shadows in his face. The sound changed, but he had his head down. Was he crying? What happened? Was it wrong to still hope for sex when he was upset? How did I fix what I didn’t know was broken?
    After a few seconds, I wrapped my arms around his head, holding him tight against my chest, while he let out whatever it was that he’d held back for so long. Time passed. His sobbing ended. I ignored the tears to allow him to salvage some of his pride. Neither of us said anything. I began to doze.
    Finally he whispered, “You’re not normal.”
    “Is that a bad thing?” I asked into the earthy smell of his hair where I’d buried my face.
    Silence again. Shrugging the blankets up around his shoulders, I snuggled in beside him, fitting my body to his. No reason for either of us to be lonely. He stiffened at first, then finally relaxed, laying his head next to mine on the single pillow.
    “I’m sorry I can’t make all your troubles go away.”
    His hand found my stomach, caressing in slow circles that inched lower. “Doesn’t matter.”
    It did to me. I sucked in a deep breath. He didn’t seem to want me to touch him back, his body going tense each time I did. Yet he continued to explore, fingers running over my flesh like it was the first time he’d touched another person. His hand stopped less than an inch from where I wanted it to be, resting on my upper thigh.
    “Are you tired, Kerstrande?” I asked. “I can turn off the lamp so we can sleep.” Or help you of out those horribly teasing pants.
    “You want to sleep?” He sounded confused.
    “I want to do whatever you want me to do.”
    “And if I want things other than sleep?”
    Yes, please . “Anything.”
    The silence returned again, then he said, “Turn off the lamp, Genesis.”
    I reached over his head and flicked the light off, plunging my little apartment into total darkness. Kerstrande was warm and comfortable, like a huge extra-firm pillow. He wrapped his arms around me and pressed his hips to mine. “Sleep,” he said. “We could both use the rest.”
    “Okay.” And we did, though it took me longer to fall asleep than him.

Chapter 8

     
     
    R INGING awoke me. Hadn’t I turned off the phone? I grumbled when it continued into the fourth and fifth ring.
    “What the hell do you want?” a deep voice swore into the phone. My mind swam up from sleepy happiness to recognize that voice—Kerstrande—and that the phone pressed to his ear was his cell phone.
    “It’s none of your business.” A pause, then, “That’s not my problem. I never asked for this.” Another pause. “I tried that already.” Another pause, this one longer; then a sigh. “So deal with it.”
    I rolled the covers back. My apartment was still pitch-black. I fumbled for the lamp. Something hung over the window. Tears washed the sleep from my eyes at the light’s brightness.
    The storm clouds gathered on Kerstrande’s face again. “He’s sleeping.” He glanced at me. “No. I’m not waking him just so you can threaten him.” Noise