US (Formerly The After Effect - Book 2)

2 - Less Talk, More Action

Travis and I are lying on the stiff, textured floor in the corner of the shuttle with our bodies intertwined--him trying to stay awake as I lie alongside him, not one bit tired. The comforting feeling of his arms around me never gets old. His strength and protectiveness warms me more than any thick fuzzy blanket ever could.

Suddenly curious, I clutch onto Travis's bulging bicep, which is exposed without his classic jacket hiding his arms, and give it a squeeze, frowning as I do. When did it get so...large?

"What?" he asks quietly, but doesn't pull away like I half-expect him to. I release my grip on him, but my brows remain dipped toward my nose.

His muscles have easily doubled in size since his days locked in the Holding Room at the Headquarters on Mars. I point to his defined arms. "When did you get these things?"

Travis blinks slow as he rolls his eyes at me, clearly exhausted, but puts forth the effort to smirk and shrug all at once. When I keep a legitimately intrigued face, he explains. "Stella's been lending a hand."

My already deep frown sinks lower. Stella? Last I knew, Travis didn't trust an ounce of any of the Five other than me. "What do you mean, lending a hand?"

"Enhancers," he murmurs, his greyish-blue eyes closing. Their color is so normal. So regular. Something as insignificant as the color of his eyes keeps me grounded. Keeps me stable. Being prison-kept in the HQ with constant bright-eyed humanoid robots patrolling the hallways certainly took it's toll on me. It was one thing I never truly got used to, but with Travis back in my life, my mom, and so many of these revolutionaries, normalcy seems to be resurfacing somewhat, and I'm embracing every bit of it.

"So...Stella gave you steroids?" I ask, slightly appalled. Travis never seemed to be the type to care much about his appearance in that way. A super buff body was something I never enjoyed to look at, no matter what guy. I appreciated a happy medium, and of course the occasional near-perfect model. Something Travis lost when being restrained to shackles for months on end was just that—his above-average, happy medium. His figure is returning now, though I hope this doesn't mean bodybuilding status in his future.

"They're not steroids," he clarifies. "Whatever she's giving me basically just helps the rebuilding process or something. Don't worry about it; I've already taken my last dose."

I grunt. "Maybe that's why your fuse has been so short lately."

His eyes pop open and he corrects me with a big fat, "No. I have a short fuse because I hate that prick, Brink. Simple as that."

I shove his shoulder playfully when he turns all serious and slides his eyelids closed. "Hey, don't fall asleep on me. I need to talk to you about D.C. Why didn't you ever tell me about the president and everything?"

Travis sighs. "Wasn't important."

"Well it is now," I reason, and gently nudge him with my elbow. I want to be a tank full of information for this upcoming trip. No more sitting out and watching the clouds roll by. I'm sick of being in the dark; I've lived my entire life not knowing who I truly am. Partial answers and semi-information isn't going to fly by me anymore.

"Can we talk about it later, baby? I'm so tired." He reels me in closer and snuggles me. "I love you," are his last words before he's totally out.

Great. I couldn't be more awake or desperate to hear the details. Perhaps my lack of drowsiness stems from being knocked out for the past three days or so, or it's the Five DNA in me. I remember being told we don't sleep very often once we peak.

Keeping my body still, I glance around the ship at the other sleeping bodies. Some had opted for chairs, like my mother, and the rest had chosen the anything-but-squishy floor. If I were to redo the sleeping arrangements, I think I'd go for a chair. The only pro to the ground is the ability to stretch out fully. However, the surface is harder than I originally assumed it to be; it feels like some sort of plastic or hardened rubber. The chairs are rigid as well, but at least they have some curvature to them.