A Princess of Mars • The Martian

Twenty Feet

Y/N POV:

So I guess it's been all right with Mark borrowing my eReader. He borrows it every evening for about two hours, then gives it back before he turns in for the night, or whatever thing he does. I don't care, just so long as he doesn't get in my way, or try to bother me. He doesn't seem to be doing much of either these days. Ever since the incident in the tunnel at midnight, and my harshness, or at least, my frank honesty, he's been really polite about it and left me alone.

I don't know why I feel so awful about it. Every time I see him, I feel the guilt creeping up like a blush, and I have to look away from him. Eye contact is difficult, and I have no idea why.

I only know that I feel uncomfortable and scared around him when we're 'alone' since nobody is ever really alone on this little ship, but at least, for a moment, alone. He reminds me of the big, strapping guys at flight academy who were always subtly hitting on me, because it made them feel more manly or some apeshit like that.

That's the kind of guy Watney reminds me of- the one you'd never want to drive you home from a party- because any number of possibilities are there.

I don't mean to make Mark sound like he's a rapist, and maybe it's just the way he walks or talks or looks at me when he thinks I don't notice, that bother me so damn much.

I just.... I don't know what else to say. Every second I spend with him, I feel inexplicably bothered. I don't know how else to deal with men- the single ones, at least. The married ones are uncomplicated because there's no confusion.

Maybe that's what's bothering me about Watney.

I have an EVA that I'm not really looking forward to in less than half an hour, and I was going to do it alone, but as luck would have it, or rather, as Commander Lewis would have it- I'm stuck with Watney as a companion-helper of all people. He's an EVA specialist, but this will be the first one we've done together. I don't need my nerves wound tight like a spring like they are now, and I swear if Watney cracks one lame joke, I'll probably snap. I think he thinks he's alleviating tension, or pressure, or maybe to alleviate his own fears, but all he does is frustrate me.

I think he knows he's not funny, but he just doesn't care anymore. Maybe it's the fact that he doesn't care that scares me so much- because I care, and I take all of this so personally because, out of everyone else, I'm the one who has been dreaming of this time since I was six years old.

I can't deal with a Chicago botanist ruining it all.

Oh well. Maybe he'll be useful and make the EVA go a little quicker.

Mark:

So today I had my first EVA with her. My second EVA, and Lewis told me that this was going to be her first solo EVA, but Lewis thought that maybe Y/N would have a hard time by herself, especially with lifting some of the panels, and so she sent me. That's what you get for being the most technically useless crew member- you get farm hand duty.

It was so painfully quiet in the air lock after we suited up. She barely talked to me, didn't even look me in the eyes when she was going over the list of what we were going to do, just looked at the list on her helmet readout and kept staring staring ahead out of the tiny porthole.

I bit my lip, silently vowing not to try and crack any jokes, since she wouldn't laugh anyways. It doesn't seem like anything I do will ever make her laugh, let alone smile.

"So, we'll just put the panel over here," she said, gesturing with her bulky suit. She looked so small against the backdrop of the eternity that stretched beyond the Hermes, and she was but a white speck amongst the galaxies.