Dara, Page, and the Secrets of the Multiverse

▷ 16.1

A coffee mug clinked on the counter as Dara set her drink down. "Page." Her tone rolled off into an admonishing end. "It's morning. Must we talk about that now?"

Page rounded the counter and wrapped her arms around Dara. Her warmth seeped past the thin nightgown Dara wore, instilling a sense of comfort in her veins. "I just need your help with something," she cooed against Dara's ear. "A quick check, that's all."

"I haven't even had my morning powerup," Dara replied, grasping Page's arm in a weak attempt to tug it off her neck. Page's forearm against Dara's throat, making it hard to breathe. Just a bit. "Can't I have breakfast first?"

"Aw, c'mon, babe." Page nibbled on Dara's lobe, shooting a ticklish prickle down her neck. "I've got a presentation in an hour, and Doc's not having it."

Dara hummed, stealing another sip from her cup. "You should have bugged me earlier, then. I was free last night." She smacked her lips to further relish the bitter strain. The coffee coated her tongue before sailing smoothly down to her gut. Now, that was a nice mix. "No use procrastinating on your research."

"I need to fine tune some details for them to match the analysis," Page reasoned. She drew away from Dara and held her at arm length. Her features morphed into that of a lost puppy, complete with big, round eyes, pouty lips, and a bad case of morning hair. "I'm in a bind here. Please?"

Dara pretended to think about it, licking her lips free of her drink's foam. "If you promise to buy me a cake from Barrom's," she said. "I might."

"Strawberry shake buttercream cake!" Page exclaimed. Dara raised her eyebrow, daring Page to add something to it, something that the gorgeous science-girl seemed to be forgetting. A sigh of defeat ripped off Page's lips. Her grip around Dara's shoulders loosened. "With extra red velvet dusting."

"And?" Dara prodded some more.

Page rolled her eyes. "And purple haze donuts."

"How many?"

Page peeled off from Dara completely with a chuckle. "Two dozen." She pushed her hair off her forehead. "Seriously, you're a tough nut to crack."

Dara snorted, inhaling more of her coffee. "As I should be."

A hand closed around Dara's cup and another ushered her out of the high seat. "Come on, then," Page said, jerking her chin towards the living room where her makeshift laboratory set-up was already waiting. How dead-set was she to get Dara into that thing? "I'll fix you up."

Dara could have rolled her eyes—as if anyone "fixed her up" apart from Page—but she followed her girlfriend to the couch. Within a few minutes, Page had Dara lying on her back, her hair spilling all over the pillow under her head and the embroidered spread beyond. Two fingers on each temple went in circles, slathering Dara's skin with a fine coat of gel. Wires clinked against each other as Page retrieved her device, the one she used to view dreams and memories, along with some other stuff Dara would never understand in her lifetime.