by Tia Lewis
“Leader, founder. I created the site to recruit others like myself. Those of us who believe there has to be more to life than what we’re presented with. I started it years ago as a way to expose unethical politicians.” He rolled his eyes, smirking. “Talk about a full-time job. There are many more than you could ever imagine, believe me, no matter how cynical you might be.”
“I have to admit. I wasn’t as cynical as I am now before stumbling upon your blog, and then when I watched that video about Boxutrin…”
He nodded. “I figured that was what roped you in and swayed you to finally say something. A lot of people did, actually.”
“Oh, really?” My eyebrows shot up.
“Indeed. I got a lot of hits after that video. Lots of requests to learn more.” He smiled, eyes narrowing a bit. He reminded me of a jungle animal, but I wasn’t afraid. Instead, I was turned on. “You’re the only person whose request appealed to me.”
“Me? Out of all those people?”
He nodded, then launched onto a new topic. And I wanted to know everything, so I soaked it up. And for once, he was willing to share information with me. The man was fascinating. He’d seen so much, done so much. He was jaded, for sure, but he still had hope that he could turn things around.
After an hour of him talking and me listening, half-hypnotized by his melodic voice and gorgeous eyes, he cleared his throat.
“I think this is enough for the day. I’ve kept you for far too long for a first meeting.”
My heart sank. Sure, it was after one in the morning, but we were in the city that never slept. We could’ve gone anywhere, done anything. Instead, he wanted to send me home. Another silent message. He was in control.
“We’ll have to meet another time,” he said as we stood. “This has been immensely enjoyable for me.”
“It has? All we did was talk.”
“Yes,” he said, “but I had good company.”
I blushed for probably the hundredth time that hour. Preston had an effect on me, for sure. Maybe I’d have to find a hormone suppressant online and take it before the next time we met. If he wanted to keep things strictly professional—which I totally agreed with—I had to get my head in the game.
“Keep an eye on your phone,” he advised as he walked me to the door. “I think we’ll get back together soon.”
“That would be nice,” I said, cursing myself for sounding so eager. If I could just be cool for a minute, it would be great. I watched as Preston opened the door, wishing I had some great parting line to throw at him before I walked away. I wished I could do or say something to leave him with a strong impression. Something, anything.
Instead of that, I said, “Can I ask one more question before I go?”
“Yes, just one more.” He leaned against the open door, waiting.
“Why me? With all the other people on the internet, all of the activists who want to participate in this—hell, all the people who emailed you—why did you choose me? There has to be something I said or did that set me apart from everyone else. What was it?”
The question hung heavy between us. I waited, my skin tingling as Preston’s eyes made a slow route over my body. I knew he was taking inventory, examining me, and I held myself straight and tall. When he looked me in the eye again, the spark I saw in his green depths told me he liked what he saw.
“Honestly?”
“Please.”
“I liked the way you begged.” With that, he closed the door between us, leaving me breathless and full of more questions than ever before.
Chapter 7
I woke up the next morning expecting everything to have been a dream. A wonderful dream. The sort of dream I never wanted to wake up from.
But it wasn’t a dream. I could still remember the way the breath left my body when Preston looked at me that way. When he spoke those final words. I liked the way you begged. I swallowed hard, my mouth going dry as I remembered the way he’d sounded, the way he’d looked. He’d meant it, for sure, but not nastily. No, there was something much deeper in his voice.
I had never met anyone like him, ever. He was different, and not just because his face had been carved by the Gods. It might have been the connection I’d already felt before we met face-to-face. I hadn’t exactly walked in there as a total stranger, after all. I’d already felt close to him like we were working toward something together. Like we shared something. Like I wanted him to like me.
Well, if I’d wanted him to like me before, I surely wanted him to like me after being in his presence. I kept replaying his words in my mind, not to mention the way his eyes had toured me. I’d wanted him to reach out and touch me, hadn’t I? It seemed utterly implausible—the age difference between us was just one difference of many that I should’ve been concerned about—but I couldn’t help wishing.
Why did I like the way he said it? I liked the way you begged. The sound of it had sent a shiver down my spine. There was so much promise there, in that one sentence. Did he feel the same sort of connection with me? If he did, he’d never let me know it before, unless that random comment about getting wet was a way to open a new door. But I’d shut that down, so I’d never know.
Was I creating an illusion in my head? I hated people who did that. Back in high school, I used to overhear girls in the locker room after gym class, going on and on about the slightest little thing a hot guy had done. “Do you think it means he likes me?” Blah blah blah. Blowing things out of proportion in their heads, creating a whole story in which they were the star and the cute boy was in love with them. It was all crap, all bullshit, but that wasn’t something I could tell them. Oh, I’d wanted to, though. I’d wanted to burst their bubbles so bad.
But then, there I was. Doing the same thing. I could see how easy it was to fall into that trap.
I closed my eyes hard, rolling over onto my side. I wanted to go back to sleep and dream of Preston again—because of course, I’d been dreaming about him all night. It was better than overthinking our meeting. I wasn’t used to having someone to talk to, someone who wanted to respond to me and treat me as an equal. I wasn’t even used to having friends.
I’d never even been kissed. That was a secret nobody knew. Then again, maybe everyone knew it. Guys weren’t exactly knocking down my door, even though they’d paid me a lot more attention by my senior year of high school than they had in freshman year. I didn’t know how to act around them. I’d never learned how to flirt or say the right things. The only option was to ignore them, so I had. I missed out on the whole dating thing. So nobody had ever had the chance to kiss me.
It was nice to have somebody in my life, no matter how Preston saw himself fitting into it. I wasn’t sure what he was thinking, but I knew I was happy to see him around.
I heard my cell phone vibrate on the other side of the bed and jumped to answer it. Preston had told me to keep an eye on it, hadn’t he? He was the only person who’d be texting.
Meet me at the internet café on the corner of 5th and Broadway at 1 pm. I want to see what you’ve got.
My head buzzed with anticipation. He wanted to see me in action, did he? It was almost too much to be believed. Of course, he could just hack into my laptop and see me in action if he really wanted to—which led me to believe that he might actually want to spend time with me. Was that true? Did he think I was worth spending the time on? I could only hope.
I sprang out of bed, ready for action. And I was definitely going to dress better, too. I wouldn’t let Preston outshine me.
I pulled nervously at the hem of the yellow floral sundress I’d worn on my graduation day, the one and the only nice-ish dress I owned. I was glad my mother had insisted on getting me something nice, even when I’d protested that nobody would be able to see what I was wearing under my gown.
The yellow fabric clung to my chest, my boobs pushing the top to its limits. It ended at my knees, flaring out just a little. The color warmed up my skin a little—I did look way too pale, sitting inside a
ll the time. My mother had a point there, too.
On the table in front of me was my laptop and an iced coffee. I wanted to make it look like I belonged there, which I definitely did not. I didn’t do the sort of work a person typically did in public.
At one on the dot, Preston walked in. It felt like the energy in the café had shifted, evidenced by the eyes that shifted up in his direction as he walked past. He still wore a black business suit—not the same suit, of course, but one just as handsome and well-tailored as the one he’d worn at the hotel. That Rolex gleamed on his wrist, too, and even his black dress shoes shone.
He sat across from me. “Good to see you again, Sophie.”
“Likewise.”
His eyes twinkled. “You look beautiful.”
I could tell he was laughing at me, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting. “Thank you.”
I turned my attention to my laptop.
“You blush very easily,” he murmured.
“When you have pale skin, every little thing shows up.” I glanced at him. “How is it that you have such a nice tan? You spend just as much time behind a computer as I do.”
“That’s what you think,” he smiled. “Remember, we text. We can do that from anywhere. It wouldn’t do for the leader of a group to spend all of his time in the trenches. I step in for several hours a day and do what needs to be done, but otherwise? I have a better work/life balance than you think.”
“My work is my life,” I murmured.
“Commendable, but also a surefire recipe for burnout. Trust me. I’ve seen it before.” He nodded sagely, his eyes burning into me. “I would hate to see that happen to you.”
“You’ve seen it, you say?”
“There’s a fine line between commitment and obsession, Sophie.”
I loved the way he said my name, the way it rolled off his tongue. “And an even finer one between obsession and madness. It would be best for you to learn where that line lies and stay away from it.”
“How do I learn?”
“You find the right teacher.”
His mouth curved into a smile, and I felt a shiver from my toes to the top of my head. My skin broke out in goosebumps, which I was sure he could see. If he did, he didn’t mention it.
“So.” He folded his hands on the table. “As much as I love hanging out in internet cafés, I think we have work to do here.”
“All right. What do you want me to do?”
I felt my heart racing out of control. I had to prove myself to be worthy to join The Alliance. I had to show him how capable I was. He needed to know he’d made the right choice. I wanted so badly to please him, I could just about taste it.
He looked around the café, then back at me.
“Get inside here.”
“This place?”
“Yes.” He nodded his head ever so slightly in the direction of the girl seated two tables away. “That girl over there. Get inside her computer.”
“Done.”
I got to work, doing what I could to ignore the weight of his eyes on me. He never stopped staring as I typed, sending commands to the café’s network before finding the computer in question.
He leaned in, moving his chair to my right rather than across from me. His woodsy cologne just about knocked me out—not because he’d worn too much, but because I wanted to taste his skin. He smelled so good. What the hell was that stuff made of that it suddenly went straight to my core and made me tighten up inside?
He was oblivious, or at least it seemed that way. He was too busy seeing that I’d hacked into the right computer, comparing what he saw on her screen with what was on mine. “Good job,” he murmured, turning to me to grin. I couldn’t breathe. I thought my heart would explode.
“Thanks.” I got out of her computer quickly, before she could notice. I wasn’t interested in getting my ass arrested for something so juvenile.
“What got you started in all this?” he asked.
“I thought we didn’t ask personal questions like that,” I teased.
His eyes narrowed. “But when I ask a question, I like to have it answered.”
I cleared my throat, flustered. A sip of my coffee made it easier to speak.
“I never found anything else I liked half as much,” I admitted. “I got my first computer at age twelve and never looked back.”
“Six whole years,” he smirked, shaking his head.
“You would be surprised what a person can do in six years of focused attention,” I pointed out. “I taught myself how to do what you just watched me do. Nobody else did.”
“Really?” That seemed to get his attention.
“Yes. I didn’t discover… what we do… after discovering… you.” It was nearly impossible to have a real conversation in public when our conversation involved what we both did. “It was the other way around. I wanted to learn more, deepen my knowledge. I’ve spent just about every minute of my free time from my twelfth birthday until now learning everything I could.”
“Every spare moment? Aside from going out and partying with your friends,” he mused.
“Have you ever reached out to me and found me unavailable?” I asked.
“No, now that you mention it.”
“And why do you think that is?” I couldn’t help but feel a little pissed that he’d formed such strong opinions about me without getting to know me. He had no idea what I was all about, what my life was about. Maybe that was why he kept saying I wasn’t ready. He assumed I was the typical teenager.
“I don’t know,” he answered. “Why is it?”
“Because this is my life, like I said. I wasn’t being hyperbolic.”
“You have a very nice vocabulary,” he commented, his voice smooth. His eyes twinkled again.
“Thank you.” I still blushed a little, but just a little. I was too busy being annoyed at his assumptions. “I mean that, too. It’s my life. I don’t have friends. I’ve always been a loner. I’m not good at anything but this.” I rapped my knuckles against the lid of the closed laptop.
“You’re kidding.”
“Why would I kid?”
He shrugged, opening, then closing his mouth. For the first time, I’d made him speechless. It was a nice feeling.
“Because you’re a beautiful girl. I would imagine…”
“Keep imagining, but there’s nothing to imagine. Trust me.”
“Such a shame,” he murmured.
My stomach flip-flopped slowly as his eyes burned into me. I wanted to burn up with him. What was wrong with me? What was I even thinking? He wasn’t right for me. He was dangerous, even. And he thought of me as a kid. I was fooling myself into thinking there was anything between us but a simple mentor/mentee relationship.
“So you’re self-taught?” he asked, and the tension broke.
“Completely,” I affirmed, and I was more than a little proud of myself.
“That’s impressive.”
“How did you learn?” I asked.
“I had a teacher. A long time ago. It was up to me to keep up with changing technology and all that, but I learned the basics from him.”
“I see.”
I didn’t want to ask Preston what happened to the mysterious “he,” since from the distant look in his eyes, I got the feeling he was attached to the man—and the man wasn’t around anymore. Either in prison or dead. In the business I was slowly working my way into, I guessed either option was just as good as the other. It was dangerous work, for sure. Especially when playing in the big leagues, the way Preston and The Alliance did.
“I think I know everything I need to know,” Preston said, standing. I was taken aback—one minute, we were having a conversation. The next, he was leaving.
“Need to know for what?” I asked, standing with him.
“That’s my business. Remember, Sophie?” He took my chin in his hands, and I swear I couldn’t breathe. It felt like all the air left the café as his eyes locked on my slightly open lips t
hen moved up to my wide, surprised eyes. “My business is my own. I don’t like having to answer questions.”
“I understand.” I would have said just about anything just then to keep myself in his good graces. I would have said anything to get him to keep touching me, too, but I didn’t think that was going to happen. Even though I did so very much want it to.
He walked away, leaving me standing in the café alone. I gripped the table for support, my knees like jello. Whatever mesmerizing spell he had, he should have been bottling and selling it. He could have quit his day job for good.
Chapter 8
Meet me at the bagel shop at the corner of 10th and Broadway. 10 am. Bring your phone.
That was different. It had been three days since our last meeting, and things had been business as usual. I’d studied, he’d taught me what he could. Secretly, I’d hoped the whole time that we’d get together again. After the second day, I’d given up hope. I’d figured he knew all he wanted to know about me, that I’d passed his test and we were moving along with his plans. My pulse picked up speed when I saw that he did, in fact, want to see me again.
It wouldn’t do to wear the same sundress, so I settled on a pair of jeans with a tank. It was already nearly ninety degrees by the time I left the house, and a thin sheen of sweat covered my forehead and shoulders by the time I stepped onto the subway. At least the morning rush was over, for the most part. I could relax in the cooler air of the train.
What did Preston want? What would today’s test be? I was supposed to bring my phone, which I had judged as an unspoken direction to not bring my computer. What could he want me to do via phone? Maybe this was a new layer to my training. I could hardly guess.
Really, I could hardly wait to see him. He was starting to become a drug to me, just as seductive as hacking. I couldn’t get enough of his mystique. No matter what I was doing, I was thinking about him. Everything I studied and tested was done with him in mind. I wanted to please him. I wanted to live up to whatever he needed me to be. As long as he would want me to work with him and The Alliance, I’d do anything. Absolutely anything.