Aftermath (Star Wars: Aftermath, #1)

by Chuck Wendig

Sinjir hangs back, and urges Jas to hang back with him. “What is it?” she asks in a low voice. “We need to talk.” “Mm,” she says, nodding like this was inevitable. “I knew this would come. And yes, I concede.” “You concede what, exactly?” “You are satisfying.” “I…don’t follow. Satisfying? I don’t know what that means. I do know that it sounds awfully…milquetoast. Drinking a cup of protein slurry when you’re truly hungry is satisfying. And yet, disgusting.” Jas gives him a frustrated look. “I mean that I find you capable. You interest me. And so, yes, when all this is over, we may couple.” “Couple. Like—” His face goes suspiciously and surprisingly red. “Like you and me? Together?” “That is indeed what I mean.” He laughs. “Oh.” “If you’re going to laugh about it,” she says, suddenly stung. “Then you can take my invitation and stick it in your exhaust port.” “No, I just mean…I’m not into…this.” “This?” Her scowl deepens and her teeth bare. “Aliens?” “Women.” “Oh. Oh.” “Yes, oh.” “Oh.” Moments pass. The awkwardness between them is a living thing—like a cloud of flies you can’t ignore no matter how hard you try. Eventually she blurts out: “You wanted to speak to me about something else, apparently?” “Ah. Yes. The boy. Temmin.” “He’s clearly too young for you.”