Out of Nowhere Read online

  Caleb was wearing blue scrubs and sneakers because habit was a powerful force. His double was dressed for some other purpose, way less friendly—boots, a utilitarian black jacket, black jeans, and a gun holstered around his thigh. Panic stabbed through Caleb’s chest. He checked the man’s face again. I wouldn’t shoot anyone, he thought, as though he could will this other man’s body like it was his own.

  “Like what you see?”

  This motherfucker even had his voice. It was as disconcerting as the gun. The double didn’t reach for the gun, though. He put his hands on Caleb’s shoulders as if to steady him—or to size him up. His grip was heavy but loose, almost lazy. Not a touch intended to force Caleb in any particular direction. Between two people who knew each other, it would have been affection; between two strangers, an advance. Between him and his double, Caleb had no idea.

  The sound of his double’s question echoed in his mind. Caleb would use that voice if he was flirting. But why would he flirt with himself? Sure, Caleb wanted people to like him, enjoyed making people giggle and blush, but he’d never been so overtly sexual with another man.

  His double was smirking. Caleb had never looked that smug in his life. As for his own face, he wished he could muster an expression other than bewildered. “Who are you? Where did you come from?”

  His double pulled him close and kissed Caleb on the mouth.

  Stubble scraped Caleb’s skin, a tongue plunged between his lips, and fingers threaded through his hair before he could collect any thoughts. Panic strobed through his brain, flashes of fear and arousal accelerating his pulse. When the kiss continued past its rude beginning, smoothing into something steadier, but still commanding, Caleb leaned into it.

  No, that couldn’t be right. He’d meant to back away.

  The heat of the kiss melted his resolve and all his common sense. His hands fisted in the thick material of his double’s jacket.

  Caleb had kissed a lot of people, none of whom had been men, or total strangers, or identical to him. This wasn’t normal, and he should think carefully—and that was an arm around his back, tugging him closer. A very forceful arm. None of the people Caleb had kissed had ever been this aggressive. He’d never been pressed so close to another man.

  He liked it.

  It was the best explanation for why he hadn’t squirmed away yet. The magnitude of the realization shook him. Had he really lived his whole life until now without knowing that? What did it mean?

  Before he had time to consider it, something pinched the side of his neck and he passed out.

  2

  Messing with Recognition

  A week and a half of captivity in space plus six days of freedom still wasn’t enough to accustom Aidan to the strangeness of life without sunrise and sunset. Caleb’s room, carved deep into the asteroid, was windowless, and Aidan came awake in the darkness with no sense of where he was.

  Caleb’s mattress on the floor was unoccupied, its sheets neatly replaced. It must be morning, or at least one of the hours arbitrarily designated as morning by the Facility 17 schedule. Aidan reached for Caleb’s tablet to check the time, but that was gone too. He lifted his head and squinted at the red numbers of the clock on the wall. 10:08. He’d slept for four hours.

  Aidan flopped back to the pillow, rolled onto his side and then his stomach. He didn’t want to be awake, or stuck in this facility, or dealing with any part of his life. Closing his eyes didn’t lull him back to sleep. Despite his fatigue, restless energy chased through his veins. Before his captivity, back when he could still jump, this kind of feeling would have sent him to another continent. Now he was trapped.

  He’d have to tell Caleb eventually. Stupid to dread it. Caleb would tell him everything would be alright and hug him again.

  The memory of their middle-of-the-night hug in the lab froze his brain, and for a moment, no other thoughts would load. He’d needed that. It was so reassuring to be touched by someone who wasn’t taking his vital signs or giving him an injection, so comforting to be touched with concern and tenderness. It was even better to be touched by Caleb. Too good. It made Aidan want things he couldn’t have.

  Aidan should stop thinking about the way Caleb smelled, the warm, slightly spicy scent of his skin overlaid with whatever was in his soap or his laundry detergent. Cedar, maybe. That faint clean scent emanated from the sheets—and the t-shirt and boxers Aidan was wearing—all of which belonged to Caleb. It was a different kind of embrace.

  He’s straight, Aidan reminded himself. And more importantly, their friendship had already put Caleb in danger more than once. The only safe thing to do was to diminish their contact. Aidan would put Quint in prison and then he’d disappear. It would hurt Caleb, but he’d live. He had plenty of other people in his life.

  As for Aidan, all he had was the memory of touching Caleb and the sensation of lying in Caleb’s bed with his pulse thrumming under his skin. The mattress provided a pleasant pressure against his dick, and he couldn’t resist grinding down into it once. Fuck, that was good. He hissed out a breath. His captivity and its immediate aftermath had robbed him of desire. It only took one touch to remind him of what he’d missed. Desperation burned through him. He needed more.

  It was risky—Caleb could walk in—but so was the rest of Aidan’s life. And even if Caleb did come in, jerking off wasn’t a crime. Jerking off to thoughts of your best friend, well… Caleb wasn’t a mind-reader; he wouldn’t know.

  Aidan would know. And he’d feel guilty. But he could do that later. Right now, the allure of a few minutes of physical pleasure was overpowering. He rolled onto his back, put his knees up to tent the sheet over his body, and shoved his underwear to mid-thigh.

  Fuck, what a jolt of relief to finally wrap his hand around his dick. He was hard already. In an instant his hand and shaft were sticky-slick from dripping liquid. Aidan kept his strokes slow despite the risk—or was it a thrill?

  He pictured Caleb in the lab last night, with his big sad eyes and his worry-bitten lower lip. Aidan should have kissed that look off his face, should have sunk his teeth into the plump curve of Caleb’s mouth. Caleb’s breath would hitch from the shock of it. He’d make the same sound when Aidan grasped his dick. Caleb was cut, unlike him. He’d flush deep pink from root to tip, quivering with want, his balls drawn up tight and aching.

  Aidan brushed his fingers under his own balls and his hips twitched. The idea of Caleb wanting him was powerfully intoxicating. His heart raced and his hand sped up to match.

  Aidan would crush their cocks together in his grip—just thinking of the friction made him shiver—and grind until he’d stripped every last drop from both of them. Caleb would cry out and spill in his hand, and Aidan would kiss him again and drink in the sweet taste of his mouth. The thought undid him. He came with a burst of pleasure and a wordless gasp, come pulsing into his hand in hot spurts.

  He lay there for a long time, breathless and sated and guilty, with the evidence cooling on his skin. The whirr of the ventilation was far too quiet to keep him from his wishes and regrets.

  Then the door opened.

  Oh, hell, Caleb’s timing was something else. Granted, a few minutes earlier would have been worse. Aidan wiped his hand on his stomach and sat up, trying to project an air of innocence, something he’d never been good at. The ability to teleport away from the scene of the crime had ruined him for the skill. Caleb would see right through him.

  Caleb stood in the doorway and assessed the room and Aidan, then strode in and sat right next to Aidan. “Still in bed?”

  It was the lightest of teases, but it made Aidan’s neck burn. “Late night,” he said, which Caleb already knew. Aidan had to shut down this line of inquiry and direct the conversation elsewhere, but before he could, Caleb leaned in closer.

  What the fuck was he doing? It was like a parody of what Aidan had been fantasizing about, and Aidan wanted to squirm out of reach. He didn’t move.

  “I’ll bet,” Caleb said, leering. Aidan had se
en Caleb flirt with a lot of women, and he’d never seen a smile anywhere near that filthy.

  The two of them teased each other all the time, but not like this, by unspoken agreement that it was too much.

  Come to think of it, Caleb looked a little different. Scruffier. Caleb was hairier than Aidan, but not so hairy that a few hours would make a difference in his beard growth. Maybe Aidan hadn’t been paying attention in the lab. He’d been too focused on collecting records.

  “Yeah, the lab was really exciting,” Aidan said dryly. Time to take back control of whatever was happening here. “What have you been doing this morning?”

  Caleb seemed to read that cue, since he withdrew a degree or two and said, “Sorry, I know you were up late working.”

  Then he laid a hand on Aidan’s leg.

  Jesus.

  In the split second when he’d moved, Aidan could have sworn his hand was trembling. He thought of the way his mom’s hands had trembled in the last years of her life.

  But Aidan was seeing things. Caleb wasn’t sick, and now his hand was perfectly still, and very much on Aidan’s thigh. Even with the sheets between them, it was an unusual intimacy, bordering on aggressive.

  When Aidan fantasized about Caleb, he didn’t behave like this. Doubt shadowed his mind. Maybe he didn’t know his best friend as well as he thought.

  Caleb let his gaze wander the room’s stark grey walls, pausing to stare at the mattress on the floor and the black suitcase propped open against the back wall as if he’d never seen them before. Then he said, “It’s been a weird morning. I went by that… rift, you know?”

  “The breach?”

  “Yeah, the breach. It freaked me out.”

  “I thought you couldn’t feel it? Or is it just the idea that freaks you out?”

  “Yeah, the idea of it. It must be really strange for you, since you’re a runner.”

  Aidan’s mouth dropped open, but no sound came out. He’d expected to be able to reveal this truth on his own terms. He picked at the hem of the sheet in his lap and said, “Not anymore.”

  “Oh, sorry again. I just can’t stop fucking up this morning, can I?” Caleb let out a huff of laughter. He didn’t do or say anything reassuring. The continued presence of his hand on Aidan’s thigh was anything but.

  Aidan’s stomach dipped.

  Caleb continued, “I’m gonna blame the breach. At least I didn’t see that thing.”

  “Dr. Lange?”

  Caleb was acting so strange. Aidan scrutinized him for signs of intoxication, but his pupils and his breathing gave nothing away.

  “Yeah,” Caleb said, leaning forward again. “Dr. Lange.”

  Leaning back felt like giving up ground, but Aidan did it anyway. “Are you okay? Was there something weird in your breakfast? And can you not—” Aidan gestured at Caleb’s hand.

  Ironic to ask him to back off, considering what Aidan had been doing before he arrived, but Christ, this situation was bizarre.

  Caleb laughed again. He removed his hand with a lingering slowness. Aidan almost suspected Caleb was deliberately fucking with him, but that would be uncharacteristically cruel.

  “Sorry, man. I just can’t stop thinking about the breach and Dr. Lange.”

  “It is all pretty strange. But it’s not like you can feel the breach or see Dr. Lange. At least, not unless he knocked something over or threw something across a room.”

  “Yeah, I mean, it’s just… Do you think he’ll ever really be Dr. Lange again?”

  “I hope so for his sake, but it’s really not my problem. That’s for Quint Services to solve. All I care about is getting out of here, and it’s all you should care about, too. You don’t owe them anything. You did what you came here to do.”

  “Which was?” Caleb smiled at him. It was the first normal thing he’d done since walking into the room.

  “Oh, sure, make me say it. Fine. Saving my life.”

  Just like that, Caleb’s hand was back. His eyes lit up. “Sounds like I’m pretty heroic. Have you thanked me properly?”

  Aidan was too disturbed to enjoy what might otherwise have been a dream come true. Something was wrong. Caleb normally treated their friendship with more care. “Caleb. This isn’t funny.”

  “I’m not laughing.”

  “You’re straight. You’re my best friend. You’re my straight best friend.”

  “Are you sure about that? Because I’m not.”

  Holy shit. His heart leapt. It was the opening line to a truly embarrassing number of fantasies. But if Aidan opened this box, no matter what came out, he’d never be able to put it back inside. “Are you fucking with me because I told you that I don’t need or want your help? I know I’ve been kind of an asshole, but I swear I have my reasons. This isn’t necessary.”

  “I am definitely not fucking with you. I wish you’d let me in.” Caleb waggled his eyebrows. “And I mean that in all kinds of ways.”

  “Fuck off,” Aidan said, less heated and more exhausted. He pried Caleb’s hand off his thigh. “I can’t think about this right now. There’s too much other stuff going on.”

  Even as he said it, he knew it was a lie. He’d be thinking about it with his right hand soon enough. But that was all he could do. The goal was to get Caleb out and away from all the dangers of Aidan’s life.

  Caleb held up his hands in surrender. “Alright. I’ll drop it. Pretend it never happened. We can talk about… Quint Services. Or Dr. Lange. Or the rift. Breach, I mean.”

  This conversation was giving him whiplash, and he wanted it to be over. The only thing that stopped him from snapping at Caleb was a knock on the door and Laila calling, “Hey, can I come in?”

  “Yes,” Aidan called back, relieved. He shoved at Caleb’s shoulder. “Let her in.”

  Caleb got out of bed and opened the door for her. Aidan didn’t think of Caleb as being physically imposing or threatening, but he loomed over Laila. Short, thick, and unimpressed with Caleb’s weird theatrics, she didn’t give him an inch.

  Laila pushed past him and strode to the bed. She’d been in the cell with Aidan, mistreated in all the same ways, so he knew how much that quick movement had cost her.

  “I’ll leave you two alone,” Caleb said, and for maybe the first time ever, Aidan was glad when the door closed behind him.

  “Move,” Laila said, squeezing into bed next to him. The soft bulk of her upper arm pressed against his, comfortable and familiar. She laid her head on his shoulder, the limp ends of her pink hair brushing his neck and falling down his back.

  Aidan had known Laila before they shared a cell, but he’d never seen her dressed down, with no makeup and with the black roots of her unbrushed hair showing. Then again, they hadn’t been close. They were both infamous, a militant activist for runners’ rights and a foiled bank robber who’d spent her teen years in prison. She’d stayed away from him for years, not wanting her bad reputation to taint his work with the Runners’ Union, but he’d sought her out. They’d formed a professional sort of friendship.

  Suffering together had changed that.

  “What the hell did I interrupt?” Laila asked, her voice bleary with sleep. Unlike Aidan, she’d taken the advice about resting seriously, and he hadn’t seen much of her outside of her bed. She’d probably just woken up.

  “I wish I knew,” Aidan said. “He was being weird.”

  “Yeah, he was. I could tell that much just from looking when he opened the door,” she agreed. “But I bet you were, too.”

  “Wow, thanks.”

  “We spent a week in a cell together. I know everything about you,” she said, her tone a reminder of what it felt like to be teased with affection instead of deliberately provoked and unsettled. “You were definitely being weird.”

  Laila didn’t know what had happened with Caleb and Aidan wasn’t in the mood to tell her, so he played up his exasperation and said, “Did you come in here just to be rude to me?”

  “Yeah,” she said, lifting her head to grin
at him.

  “You did not.”

  She slumped down and hugged her knees. The pair of sweatpants she was wearing, borrowed from someone much taller, was rolled several times at the cuffs, exposing her brown ankles. “I want to get out of here and I can’t.”

  “I can’t feel it either,” he said. He didn’t need to be any more specific with a fellow runner. She’d know he was talking about the Nowhere. “I jumped us out of the cell, but since then it’s faded.”

  “It sucks,” she said.

  “It makes it hard for me to imagine the future,” he confessed. “Who am I, if I’m not a runner?”

  “Aidan,” she said, answering his question and offering sympathy at the same time. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “It might come back in time. More rest, more food. We’re both pretty fucked up right now. And if it doesn’t, we’ll figure it out.”

  He grimaced and she dropped her arm. He’d devoted his life to founding the Runners’ Union. Without his ability, he couldn’t help them. He wouldn’t be good for anything.

  “We got out,” she reminded him. “We’ll be okay.”

  “I don’t trust anyone here.” Even Caleb was acting strange.

  “Chill. You’re so paranoid.”

  “You wear wild, asymmetrical makeup every day of your life to trick facial recognition software.”

  “I wear it to look cool. Messing with recognition is a bonus.” She nudged him with her elbow. “I’m serious, Aidan. Take a breath. I trust Kit and I trust his friends. They rescued us. Yes, they were working for Quint, but most of them didn’t know what happened to us, and when they found out, they were horrified. They took action. They’re decent. Nobody’s out to get you. It’s like you haven’t realized yet that you got out.”

  “What does it matter that we got out of that cell if they fucked us up for the rest of our lives? We’re runners, Laila. They took that from us.”

  She shook her head. “It’s shitty, but it’s not what bothers me the most. Other people manage to live without access to the Nowhere. I imagine it sucks, but so would dying in a cell. It’s the rest of it. Being a runner didn’t save me from getting abducted. I keep wondering if it’ll happen again.”