Agent Rogue

Chapter 20

For the sake of blending in, I made a decent effort. After a shower, I brushed and braided my hair, running the hairdryer over it to let it fall in loose waves once dry. I found a couple of pins to twist and back the front sections and let a few pieces fall free. I was no expert, but grew rather proud of what I could accomplish with no heat and constant huffing about my uncooperative locks.

            I left the bathroom free for Derek to shower and change. I had no makeup with me, having only a rose-tinted lip balm left with the other free toiletries, so I had to cope with my dull, white canvas of a face that contrasted with the only attractive thing about me: the dress.

            The near-shear fabric blinked with every movement, its short sleeves resting on my shoulders and pulling inwards at my chest, hugging my torso until it spilled from my waist, brushing my leg through the slit at one side. An onyx beauty of a gown.

            I looked over my shoulder to observe it from behind. The injury from the crash had begun to heal, but the mark was still visible, making me frown. I parted my hair at the back and pulled it forward, softening it down to cover the long red scratch – it would scar.

            "Agent." The bathroom door opened, and I looked behind me, holding my breath as I took in the image of him.

            If I did not know him any better, I would have thought the suit had been tailored specifically for him. The midnight black blazer felt every contour of him, sharpening every muscle and edge generously, the white of the shirt deepening his natural tan. However, when I let my gaze fall to his neck, I noticed his tie – black to match his suit – was lopsided in a comical way that made me silently chuckle.

            "What?" He frowned, his lips pursing. "What have I done now?"
"You look like you've tied your tie with your eyes closed."
"Well I am sorry, Miss Formal," he retorted, looking down at his neck to fumble with the fabric. "I don't normally wear things like this."
"Same here," I said, watching him knot the tie even more.

            I sighed, leaving my spot at the mirror to save him from strangling himself. "Let me. You're not exactly delicate, are you?"
He forced a laugh, mouth parting to reply but his mind shifted at the final moment. I blinked away my stare and focussed on fixing the mess he had caused rather than looking up or down, even if his eyes did not leave my lips.

            I finished swiftly and raised my head to step back, my nose brushing his chin. I shivered at the contact, swallowing.
"Sorry," I said, my voice barely a whisper.
He offered a comely smile in return. "No harm done."
"We should..." His smile faltered and he bit his lip. "We should go," I said.

            I brushed passed him, heading for the door as a sudden wave of nausea almost swept me off my feet.

            "Agent." I spun around, hand still reaching for the door. "You look—" He stopped, mulling over his words. "—You look good."
I smiled, feeling my cheeks bloom. "Thank you. So do you."

***

The party was to be hosted in the main ballroom of the ship. We were led downstairs by the congressing couples and swarms of formal attire, speaking no more than passive comments as the laughter and chatter of other passengers drowned us out, the heat of the corridors suffocating me.

            A couple bumped into Derek, knocking him towards me. The two – dressed in matching emerald green – barely looked back as they stormed off, linking arms as they charged for the ballroom doors.
"How considerate," he quipped. I bit back a response, finding a handful of passengers – men perhaps a few years older than Derek – were watching me, as if keen to see an incident spark up. This was not a young persons' party, and any entertainment was welcomed by all under thirty, but they did not deserve it.