I quickly settled into a routine. Sleeping in was much easier on a peaceful spacecraft than hundreds of meters underground. After breakfast, I would train with Vegas until lunch. After lunch, I would read or sleep until dinner. After dinner, I would spend time with Vegas on the enlisted deck. I barely had to speak a word—the young Stormtroopers had an endless amount of tall tales and jokes to tell. At night, I would lay awake, thinking about the one person on board who never left his quarters.
On the morning of the fourth day, I stood at Ren's door to deliver his breakfast. He answered the door wearing only his light clothes—a shirt and loose trousers. Judging by the light sheen of sweat on his face and the dark ring around his neckline, he had just exercised. My eyes wandered to the room behind him before I schooled them onto his face.
"Anything else I can do for you, sir?" I asked, breaking my routine.
He tilted his head to the side. "Come in."
My heart skipped a beat.
Ren's pristine quarters had additional viewports on the rear walls. He sat on the couch beneath one such viewport, which let in the shimmering blue hues of hyperspace. Around the corner, the one in the bedroom cast dancing light onto his smooth bed sheets. The sight made me feel a guilty pang for my own unmade bed.
I sat on the armchair in a nearby corner, planting my elbow firmly on the armrest. As he focused on arranging his tray on the table in front of him, my eyes hungrily surveyed his body. The material of his shirt stretched over his broad chest, alluding to the toned muscles there. His tight sleeves revealed the curve of powerful deltoids and biceps. I traced the bulging vein that appeared under the scrunch of his sleeve and ended in the back of his hand.
My eyes snapped to his face when he lifted the water canister from his tray. His eyes were already watching me, void of the apprehension from our last meeting. His voice was consoling.
"There's no need to conceal your curiosity from me, Caltrel."
I wet my lips as I watched his throat constrict with swallows.
"Alright, sir."
He reclined back in his seat, his eyes lingering on me like a smoldering fire. Though I couldn't feel anything, I wondered if he was reading my mind.
"You're drawn to the Darkness," he murmured.
It was vague, but I knew exactly what he meant. The Dark Side. I nodded hesitantly and drew in a much-needed breath.
"I tried to read about it in the First Order database. There wasn't much."
His eyes lit up in recognition. "Mm. You have to read the archives of the Empire for that. I can grant you access once we return to base."
"Thank you," I said breathily.
In the silence that followed, I got a feeling that Ren read even more than me. I watched him lean forward and pick a piece of fruit off his plate.
"Ren...sorry—sir..." I felt my cheeks heat up as his eyes briefly narrowed. "What makes it more powerful than the Light?"
He raised his chin, the topic clearly interesting to him. "Passion," he said with conviction. "Emotions are a conduit for the Force. The Jedi think that strong emotions are a gateway to dangerous power. They fear it. They're wrong."
"What...what exactly is the Force?"
He gave me a quizzical look, as though I was asking why space was black. "It's energy inside all things. Even in you."
His eyes flickered over my snug-fitting gym clothes for half a second.
My hand drifted to my chest. "I can't feel it."
"That doesn't mean it's not there," he swiftly countered. "It just means you're not Force-sensitive."
He closed his eyes and breathed in, his face becoming relaxed. I felt myself subconsciously leaning forward, wanting to get a closer look at his face.
"I sense the Force energy within you now."
A bolt of surprise ran through me, leaving tingles in its wake, and my heart rate markedly increased. As his eyes drifted open, I willed a neutral expression onto my face. The corner of his lip turned up.
"You're good at that," he murmured. "But your emotions betray you."
I blinked at him as he reached for another grape. "You can feel my emotions?"
"Mhm." He took a moment to chew and swallow. "Some more than others. You bottle yours up, and your thoughts. So I can sense them strongly."
"That's...unbelievable," I breathed, trying to wrap my mind around it. "What's the science behind it?"
"Midi-chlorians. Sentient lifeforms that exist in the blood of Force users."
It didn't strike me as particularly good science. "I was never taught about that."
He hummed. "Even Andromeda science isn't comprehensive."
I pressed my lips together, unsure if I should voice my doubts. His neutral expression encouraged me. "I've seen cutting-edge magnetic energy field manipulation..."
I trailed off when he raised his hand and the tin cap of his water canister floated up out of it. With a flick of his fingers, he sent it towards me, moving through the air as smooth as silk. I gasped when it hovered right in front of me, slowly rotating for several moments. Then it fell, and I reflexively caught it with my right hand. My wide eyes snapped to his face.
He was leaning on his chin, covering a smirk of amusement at my utter fascination.
I reached out and set the tin cap carefully on the table, half worried it would float away again.
He chuckled.
Suddenly, I heard the shush of a dresser drawer opening on the other side of the wall. Vegas' quarters. I turned my head to glare at the unusually thin walls. When my gaze returned to Ren, his eyebrows were drawn together in annoyance.
"Don't let me keep you," he said sharply.
The radical change was jarring. Suddenly feeling unwelcome, I rose to my feet.
"Sorry, sir, I didn't mean to...waste your time."
His eyes, now guarded, followed me to the door. When the bioreader didn't respond to me, I realized I was locked inside. My breath stuttered when he appeared right behind me, and I felt the warmth of his arm when he waved his hand over the panel. I stepped through the door and turned around as he joined me in the doorway. My stomach fluttered when I had to lift my chin to make eye contact.
"You didn't," he said softly.
We both looked down the hall when a door opened. Vegas wheeled out of his quarters, double-taking when he saw us. He faced us and saluted casually.
"Vegas," Ren greeted with a nod. "One hundred?"
He smirked. "Eighty-five, sir. Almost there."
His low chuckle vibrated the air around him, falling pleasurably on my ears. I suddenly regretted leaving, even as I turned to do so. I caught his eye shyly.
"Thank you, sir."
He nodded, his face open and curious.
Doing sets of reps in the gym was exactly what I needed to blow off some steam. After a short jog on a treadmill, I joined Vegas on a large rubber mat to do some push-ups. I was nowhere near his peak physicality, but I was trying. My arms trembled as his pumped them out one after the other.
"Forty-one," he counted under his breath, "forty-two, forty-three, forty-four..."
After thirty, I stepped both of my feet up and eased back into a squat, trying to catch my breath. I breathed out a laugh as I watched him continue in perfect form. He stopped at eighty, staying in plank position for a long moment. Then, he turned his head slightly and murmured something to me.
"You've fallen for Ren, haven't you?"
A pang of fear went through me.
He dropped to his knees and leaned back on his heels. As he stretched his muscular arms over his head one at a time, his gym clothes left nothing to the imagination. His nostrils flared as he caught his breath, staring at the ground.
I desperately searched for something to say.
"It's alright. I get it," he said, training his eyes on me. "Mysterious. Older. Attractive."
My eyes fell. "I'm sorry. I don't want to lie to you..."
"Hey. I said it's alright."
He raised his fist and grazed his knuckles across my chin, drawing out a smile.
"Honestly, I feel lucky just being around you. I think there's two other females stationed on Starkiller and Phasma is one of them."
I smothered my smile. "So you wouldn't like me if I was a man?"
"Nope," he said immediately. "I would find you incredibly annoying."
"What? No."
"I mean it," he said in all seriousness.
I tilted my head back and laughed. "Vegas..."
He looked away with a sheepish smile.
As I lay in bed that night, my conversation with Ren replayed in my mind over and over again. I tried to memorize his words and the tone with which he said them. Just being around him felt like ingesting a strong drug—a feverish high and a pleasant descent, followed by a desperate need for another dose.
I found myself picturing his body—his arms, his broad shoulders. The way he towered over me, like he could break me at any moment but chose not to. My violent thoughts made me blush as I felt a rush of heat. Without instruction, my hand slid across my abdomen and disappeared beneath my loose waistband. My lips parted when I felt how aroused I was.
Stop!
The cold spray of the shower sank deep into my scalp. My hand was planted on the wall under the faucet, providing needed stability. I mindlessly watched the water swirl down the drain at my feet.
I had to bury myself under every blanket I could find to bring my core temperature back up. It was the mind-numbing hum of the ship's engines that eventually coaxed me to sleep. As usual, my dreams were filled with brown eyes and a beckoning hand—just beyond my reach.
