by Leia Shaw
His wide grin popped in her mind, surprising her. What was he doing there?
“Sit down,” Jonah said, motioning to the spot across from him. There was a cup already sitting there. “I got your coffee already. Try it. Let’s see if I remembered right.”
Brows raised, she sat then sniffed the contents of the cup. Jonah had never been the romantic type. She’d be surprised if he remembered her order, especially after all these months of not seeming to remember her at all.
She took a sip. Ugh! Grimacing, she forced herself to swallow then put the cup back on the table.
Jonah looked dismayed. “No?”
“Not even close.” She needed real coffee, STAT, to wash the taste out.
“Soy latte skim milk and no sugar, right?”
“Ew.” What the hell? “NASA must’ve scrambled your brain. I’m gonna go get some real coffee. I’ll be right back.”
Soy? Not much had changed, apparently. He’d often forget her favorite things – movies, restaurants, desserts. At the counter, she ordered a small vanilla blonde then loaded it up with cream and sugar. She was still shaking her head about the soy latte as she made her way back to the table.
“Sorry about that,” Jonah said, not looking sorry at all. He’d always been cocky. Sometimes a man’s cockiness was attractive. In Jonah though, it was more grating. “Thanks for agreeing to meet me here.”
She shrugged. “I’m here all the time anyway.”
Jonah snorted then shook his head. “You never were good at social graces.”
What the hell was that supposed to mean? He had to know this wasn’t a real date. And it wasn’t as if he was Mr. Personality. Affronted, she scowled at him. “What do you want, Jonah? Why did you email me?”
“I told you. Things didn’t work out in Seattle. I’m back and I missed you.”
“You missed me? Five months you don’t say one word to me. Not a text, not an email, nothing. That doesn’t sound like you missed me.” Despite the small rant, she wasn’t bitter about it. Truthfully, she hadn’t missed him. The shock of the sudden break up had left her reeling for a few days, but then she’d moved on, glad to be free of the distraction. It was only recently, she’d begun to think about relationships again. Watching Jess and Dani, hearing Levi talk about Hope. That had spurred a bout of loneliness. Maybe her grandma was right – everybody desired to be understood, and she was no exception.
“I’m sorry I didn’t contact you. The job came with a confidentiality agreement. I didn’t even know what to talk about when I thought about emailing. And I felt bad I left so suddenly. My mind was occupied. I’m sorry.” For what it was worth, he did look guilty. “I handled it wrong.” With a deep breath, he gave her a small smile. “But I’m back and I’d like to try things again.”
Emerson sipped her coffee and thought for a moment. Now that she was looking at him, face to face, she realized she didn’t want to be someone’s second best. Jonah was only back because he’d either been fired or hadn’t liked the job as much as he’d thought. He wasn’t back for her. He’d picked the job first and she was sloppy seconds. Why she’d ever let their boring relationship go on for eight months was beyond her.
“I’m not interested in being your fuck buddy, Jonah.”
He flinched. “God, Em. Do you have to be so crass?”
She merely arched a brow and sipped her drink.
“You’re not a,” he paused to look around then whispered, “fuck buddy. You were always more than that to me.”
“No. We weren’t good together. I’ve moved on. I’m close to my career goals. I don’t need a distraction.” That part was a lie, but she couldn’t deal with him getting all puppy dog schmooky on her right now. And the truth seemed mean. He was boring and she had no attraction to him anymore.
Nodding, he stared down at his hands for a moment. An awkward silence dragged on then he finally lifted his head and broke it. “Still working on prime numbers?”
She nodded.
With a derisive snort, he sat back and looked her over. “When are you gonna get a real job and stop chasing pipe dreams?”
“Fuck you,” she spat. “Just because you couldn’t hack it at your dream job, doesn’t mean the rest of us should give up.”
He laughed, managing to sound condescending. “You need to grow up, Emerson. I was giving you a chance by getting back together. I don’t know what I was thinking. You’re still a child.”
What had she ever seen in Jonah Michaels? He was a stuck-up, big-headed asshole. She could never be with someone who didn’t support her dream. She’d take an average guy who may not understand prime numbers over a pompous intellectual who discouraged it any day. Just as she was about to get up and leave, she caught the movement of a hand waving across the shop.
The owner of the hand was wearing a wide grin – a real one, not like Jonah’s fake one – and a sexy black fitted top that accentuated his fit body. Just great. Levi was the last person she wanted to see right now. To her embarrassment, he walked straight to their table.
“Hey, Em!” he greeted cheerfully.
His scent washed over her, masculine but sweet, and her heartbeat kicked up a notch. She was torn between grinning up at him like a smitten schoolgirl and hiding under the table in a full on blush. This crush was getting out of control.
“Hi,” she replied shakily.
Jonah looked back and forth between the two. She should probably make introductions – that was what people did in situations like this – but honestly, she hoped Jonah would leave.
When he didn’t move, or introduce himself, she crossed her arms and glared at him. Finally, he snorted and shook his head. “I knew this was a bad idea.” He stood up, taking his coffee cup with him. “See you around, Em.”
She didn’t bother to say goodbye.
Levi took his place and sat down. He made a face. “That was tense.”
“Yeah. Sorry. That was my ex.”
“Ah.” He nodded. “You okay?”
She studied his face, trying to read the emotion there, though she sucked at that sort of thing. Math equations made sense, people didn’t. Like right now, Levi’s eyes were kind of squinty and his head cocked to the side. Did he pity her? She hated being pitied.
Straightening her shoulders, she scoffed. “I’m fine.” Before he could say anything else, she added, somewhat harshly, “What are you doing here? I thought you didn’t like coffee.”
“Yes. That stuff will still kill you.” His tone was serious, but there was a teasing glint in his eyes.
“Then why are you here?” She narrowed her eyes into a pretend suspicious look. “Are you stalking me?”
“No, but I should be.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “I’m getting impatient, but we’ll get back to that. First, I need a cup of that poison. It was a long night and I have to deal with a cougar in a little while.” Distracted, he looked around the shop. “What’s the best caffeinated beverage here anyway?”
“Not a soy latte,” she said emphatically.
“Okay. Well, do you have any recommendations?”
She took her time looking him over. “If you really want something that’ll wake you up, get an espresso.”
“Yeah?” He craned his neck to see the menu hanging on the wall behind the counter.
“Unless you’re used to drinking raw egg and protein powder?” It would explain the muscles.
“No,” he said, laughing. “I drink protein shakes before I run in the morning, but I’m not Rocky.”
A runner? How did she get stuck crushing on a health nut, clean freak musician? “Running and morning are two words that should never go together.”
He set that charming smile on her and she felt like melting onto the floor. Maybe she needed something cold to drink.
“An espresso, huh? Okay, I’ll trust you on this.” He rose from his seat then stopped and looked down at her. “If I buy you a refill, will you give me an update? Something, anything. I’m dying here.”
> Refill on her hot coffee? No. Cold drink. His waist was at eye level, bringing her attention to the manliness of his build. He had a runner’s physique – fit but not veiny. Just enough to have his way with her when he wanted to. A warm feeling rose up from her stomach, making her blush.
Definitely cold drink.
She cleared her throat. “Um. Get me the a caramel frappe and I’ll tell you everything I know.”
He grinned. “Excellent. Be right back.”
What had gotten into her? She needed to end this crush now. They had nothing in common – they’d be terrible together, even if he was interested. Besides, guys like him went for girls like Hope – the original version. Beautiful, sweet-faced, perky. Not cynical, anti-social, and nerdy.
Her male counterparts in the geek world lusted after Barbie dolls too. Emerson was always a last resort. It sucked, but such was her lot in life. It was easy to be confident about her intellect but when it came to what she had to offer past that, she’d never gotten beyond the insecure teenager stage. When it came to numbers and computers, she was Emerson, Supervillain Hacker Queen. But her glasses, flat chest, and scrawny frame ensured she’d never be anyone’s first choice when it came to a relationship.
With Jonah, she’d figured out just how important sex was to her. Not that she knew exactly what she wanted, only that what he offered ended up anti-climactic. Literally. There were no guarantees Levi would be any better, but damn, at least he was good to look at.
Levi returned to the table, carrying two cups – one topped with whipped cream and caramel drizzle. This was one of her favorite treats during the summer. He handed her one and sat down across the table.
After popping the lid, he said, “Here goes.” He took a sip then made an exaggerated thinking face. “Hmm.”
“Yes?”
“It’s good!”
She smiled. “You’re such a dork.”
“What?” He looked genuinely perplexed. “Starbucks is a greedy bitch. Four ninety-five for this thing.”
“I’ll take it off your bill.”
“No, that’s okay. I don’t mind spending money on you. It’s corporate America robbing me blind that I don’t like.”
“It doesn’t bother me as long as they keep me awake. One of these days, I’ll find my prime number and it’ll all be worth it.”
After a big gulp of his drink, he asked, “What is this prime number thing anyway? You seem a bit…”
“Obsessed?”
“I was going to say passionate.”
She chuckled. “You’re kinder than most. Jess makes fun of me.”
“I’m a composer. I know what obsession is.”
Did he? Musicians were artists. Her work was concrete. It wasn’t something that could be judged based on personal taste. It was so very different from music composition. But obsession, passion, whatever you called it, was something that spanned many fields. Many famous classical composers were known for their eccentricities, just like some mathematicians she knew.
There was a fine line that separated intelligence and madness. Anti-social, OCD, personality disorder…these were words that had been thrown around behind her back. Maybe there was some validity there, but it was even worse for artists. The creative genius straddled that line closer than mathematicians.
She eyed Levi carefully. Just how good was he?
“So prime numbers,” he said, urging her on. “That’s like eleven and thirteen, right? What do those have to do with hacking?”
“Yes, prime numbers can only be divided by one and themselves, so they make good answers to puzzles. They’re the basis for security encryption. Companies will use the product of two large prime numbers as a public key to encrypt a message, but the numbers themselves are kept a secret. When the product number is large enough, it takes too long to factor the private keys and hack into the system. So to test a system’s security, companies will challenge cryptologists, also known as hackers, to factor the public number and find the two prime numbers that secure it. If the hacker can do it, the system isn’t secure. An even better way to ensure security is to find even greater prime numbers. So far, the largest non-prime number a computer has been able to factor is four billion, two hundred ninety four million nine hundred sixty seven thousand two hundred and ninety six.”
His eyes widened. “That a big number.”
“Yes, but imagine if we could find an even bigger prime number. Every product of two prime numbers can only be factored one way. It has its own unique formula of prime numbers. That part is important because there can be only one solution for the secret encryption code. So the larger the prime number used, the harder it would be to break the code.”
Slowly, he nodded, staring through her.
She waited for his expression to go vacant, or for him to say he had a headache. That was usually what happened when she tried to explain cryptology.
“Hmm,” he finally said. “So, you basically solve really really big math problems?”
“Well, my computer does and I write the code. But yeah, that’s the idea.”
“Okay. I think I get it.” He leaned forward and rested on his elbows. “You know, it’s not that different from composition. I solve puzzles too. But instead of solving them as numbers, I solve them as tones. You put numbers together to fit evenly into other numbers. I put tones together to sound good. Actually, there’s something called Algorithmic Composition. It’s using math to write songs.” His eyes narrowed. “Hey, I bet we’d make a good team.”
“No way. Your work is subjective. There’s no right or wrong answer.”
“Not technically, but there are pairings of notes that sound universally good together and ones that don’t. Finding those pairs is a lot like adding numbers. Think of a song as one big math equation. The more correctly matched groups of notes, the better the song.” He smiled at her. “What you and I do is not so different. Except I suck at math so I rely on my ear. But art can be created either way.” Before she could protest, he added, “Yes, math can be art, Emerson. Don’t be so narrow-minded.”
He winked and all she could do was stare at him, somewhat awe-struck. Thoughts flew by like paper airplanes in the wind, but she couldn’t latch onto a single one. And for a hyper focused math genius, that was disturbing.
***
A small smile settled on Emerson’s face as she gazed at him. What was this mysterious girl thinking? Though she’d come off as an anti-social slightly cocky bitch in the beginning, now she was showing a different side of her. She could make eye contact, when she cared enough. She did have meaningful conversations, when she was interested in the topic. Emerson wasn’t a head case, or a mean girl, she was misunderstood. Levi had been unraveling the puzzle that was her mind, and actually enjoying it.
“You said you’d tell me everything if I got you a coffee smoothie thing.” He gestured to the cup.
“Frappuccino.”
“Whatever. I got it for you so now I demand answers.” With mock sternness, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Tell me everything you know.”
“Pushy. No spotlight and one-way mirror, Mr. Interrogator?” Leaning down, she reached for something by her feet then sat up and placed her laptop on the table.
“Do you bring that thing everywhere with you?”
“Yep.”
“Even on a date?”
Scowling, she opened it then answered, “It wasn’t a date. But yes, even on dates. If I ever had one.”
She didn’t date? That shouldn’t surprise him. But even the most hardcore shut-ins needed companionship. Emerson had a lot to offer, if only she’d open up more. So focused on this prime number thing, she probably didn’t bother to try. The intense feelings that had scared him a few days ago, and made him run from her apartment guilty and ashamed resurfaced. She didn’t just need love – she needed someone to watch out for her, definitely someone to cook and clean, maybe even someone to listen to her. Deep proprietary feelings rose up inside of him. She wasn’t right f
or him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t care about her. He wanted to protect her, but like an older brother. Nothing more. Yeah. Caring wasn’t so bad when he put it that way.
She probably wouldn’t admit it, but she seemed lonely. Numbers didn’t make good company. Neither did computers. He would know.
“I hacked into the Ohio DMV and found out all sorts of information about Heidi. Where she works, her home address, legal history, driving infractions…” She paused, studying the screen. “Two tickets for cell phone use while driving.” Smirking, she glanced at him. “That was probably your fault. At least there’s no DUI’s.”
She was like the fucking CIA. He swallowed hard as she rambled on but a ringing started in his ears.
“Stop looking at that,” he finally snapped.
This felt like a huge invasion of privacy. Ten times worse than looking for her real name or what state she lived in. Curiosity piqued but guilt overrode it. He only needed the basics. Was she in real life, the way she was online? But how would Emerson know that? It wasn’t as if she could hack into her personality, or her feelings for him. The only way he would truly know was by spending time with her, in person – the one thing she was putting off. And that made him more suspicious than anything on her driving record.
Emerson gave him a puzzled look. “Don’t you want to know if she’s on probation or something?”
“This is wrong.”
She shook her head and sighed. “You and your morals. Fine. I won’t check her SAT scores either then.”
“Jesus,” he muttered, rubbing his hand over his face.
“No,” she replied. “She’s not affiliated with any church.”
He ignored the remark, deciding it was easier to assume she was joking. Despite his misgivings about spying, he was relieved to have an address. Finally, he could go to her, see her face to face. She couldn’t hide anymore. “Is she in Ohio?”
“Yup. Just outside Toledo. And she works at an elementary school, so she didn’t lie about that.” She shrugged. “This really isn’t that bad. She used a fake name and picture, and hid where she lived, but… She’s never been arrested. I couldn’t find any signs that she’s in therapy or takes prescription medication. Even her credit score is decent.”