Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.
Focusing on his breathing was the only thing that prevented Trip from thinking about T'Pol during meditation, which he had taken to doing in his quarters instead of on the observation deck. It was difficult to be in such close proximity to her. He hadn't really noticed during their mission to find the Xindi because he was preoccupied with other things, but now that he had nothing else to focus on, he found himself concentrating on her bottomless eyes, her full lips…
A knock on the door interrupted his thought processes, for which he was grateful. Another few minutes along that tangent, and he'd need to take another shower. Of course, he knew who was at the door. There was only one person it could be.
T'Pol opened the door and was inside the room before he had even gotten off the bed.
"Geez, T'Pol," Trip said, though he was hardly annoyed at the interruption, "I could've been naked in here, for all you know."
"It's nothing I haven't seen before, Commander," she said.
He raised his eyebrows but said nothing, wondering what happened to her calling him "Trip". In public, at least, he knew she would call him "Commander" because of the way Vulcans viewed calling people by their first names. But in private, he had hoped she would call him by his nickname.
"What are you doin' here? It's not even close to dinner yet."
T'Pol was never one to beat around the bush, and so she got right to the point of her visit. "You are avoiding me."
"No, I'm not." But he was. He had been for the past two days, except during meals. He didn't trust himself around her, and not even the constant scrutiny of almost two dozen Vulcans could kill the sudden urges he got when she was nearby. He reasoned that, by avoiding her, he could avoid an interspecies incident.
Being apart from her, however, did nothing. In fact, his desire for her intensified. So much so that he was incapable of expelling her almost constant presence from his mind. He awoke at night still half aroused from fevered dreams that involved the two of them being stranded on away missions and needing each other for warmth. He couldn't remember having ever been so gone on a woman before – not to the point where she took over his mind, the way it seemed T'Pol had.
"I'm not avoidin' you," he said. "I just don't feel comfortable around the other passengers."
Her face remained expressionless, but he had long ago learned to look at her eyes to discern what she was thinking. To his surprise, he saw anger there. "I am uncomfortable around humans, yet I continue as if I am not. There are times when we must do things which make us uncomfortable, simply because they must be done."
He looked up at her. "Do all humans make you uncomfortable?"
She folded her arms across her chest. "Commander, have you heard nothing I said?"
"I heard what I wanted to hear," he said, standing. He walked over to her until their faces were just inches apart. "Now answer the question. Do all humans make you uncomfortable?"
She looked up at him, her eyes liquid. "Yes."
Not the answer he'd been expecting.
"I make you uncomfortable?" he asked, stunned.
She nodded, unable to look him in the eye. "Yes."
He thought she'd opened up to him. He thought that their neuro-pressure sessions had led to a close relationship. Hell, he considered her his best friend on the ship – even above the captain. But apparently he was the only one who felt that way, if she still wasn't comfortable in his presence.
No, that couldn't be right. Something just wasn't adding up.
He reached up to brush her face with his fingers. "Then why'd you invite me to come to Vulcan with you?"
The second his fingers touched her face it was like touching an electric fence. It was instantaneous – a blinding white flash that almost ripped the breath from his body. He reluctantly pulled his hand away, and she used the pause to back away from him. "Commander, would you like to join me on the observation deck?"
Well, that was a no-brainer.
"Just let me get my shoes."