by Ivy Layne
Mine, she answered.
What is it? I typed, curious.
I waited for a minute, then a link to the app store popped up with a note.
The sequel to this.
I clicked the link, which brought me to a game I knew. I'd played it when it had come out the year before. It was simple, but cool. Basically, it was an elaborate maze with pitfalls and hidden treasure that you navigated by turning your phone. It was deceptive, because it looked easy, but as the maze advanced, it required finesse and patience. At the time, I’d thought the premise was unique, and the graphics were gorgeous, even in the small format of a phone screen.
This is yours? I played it. Amazing.
Thanks. I'm almost done with the next one.
You have to let me see it, I typed.
Maybe. I'll show you mine, if you show me yours.
Was she flirting with me? It was too much to hope for. I thought about making a suggestive comment to see what she'd say, but then I remembered Jo's warning. I'd just gotten Emily talking to me, or at least texting with me. I didn't need to scare her off. I typed,
Anytime.
There was a pause, then,
I have to get back to work. Later.
I'll try you tomorrow.
K.
I put my phone away, feeling both bereft and triumphant. The conversation had been short, but she wasn't angry that I had her number, she'd talked to me, and I'd learned something new about her. It was progress on all accounts. I couldn't wait to text her again. Tomorrow seemed very far away.
Chapter Four
Emily
I'll try you tomorrow.
K.
I stared down at my phone, my heart pounding in my chest. Texting should have been less nerve-racking than talking to Tate in person, but it wasn't. I wanted to be clever, maybe funny, but instead, I felt awkward. He'd said he'd try me tomorrow. My heart raced at the thought, this time not with nerves but anticipation. I closed my eyes, feeling the difference. Before Tate, every time my nervous system got excited, it was a bad thing. With him, it was different. This wasn't fear or panic. When was the last time I'd been excited like this? I didn't know. I could think of times I'd been excited about a project—the app I was working on or things we were doing in my program. I'd been excited when I'd gotten into Tech.
Excited by a person? Nope. And definitely not like this. I remembered touching myself in the tub, coming while I thought of Tate. No, I couldn't remember the last time I'd been excited by a person. I wasn't sure how to feel about it.
I was home alone again, working and eating leftovers. Normally, I wouldn't feel the least bit pathetic about that. But with Jo at her new boyfriend’s and the thrill of texting with Tate over, the rest of my evening stretched in front of me, feeling a little flat. Pushing the thought aside, I turned back to my computer and tried to focus on work. As I usually did, I got sucked into the game and ended up staying up half the night.
I was just getting out of bed the next morning when I heard the key in the lock. I hoped Josephine was alone, because I wasn't dressed for company, and I was barely awake. She was, and when she saw me, she looked sheepish and said, “Sorry."
"For what?" I asked, still half-asleep.
"Didn't he text you?" she asked, looking confused. "I was sure he'd text you right away."
In a flash, I remembered, and I knew why she’d apologized. "It's okay," I said, going to the coffeemaker. I needed caffeine.
"Then he did text you," she prompted, one eyebrow raised in question.
"He did," I said. "He admitted that he annoyed you until you gave him my number."
"I think he's a nice guy," Jo said. I shrugged. I wasn't sure what to think about Tate. "You're not mad at me?" she asked. I shook my head.
"Really,” I said. “It’s okay. He's probably going to get bored with me when I won't go out with him. There are a million other girls out there. He'll lose interest. It's not a big deal." There was a gnawing ache in my chest at the thought of Tate losing interest in me. No matter what I said to Jo, it felt like a big deal. It didn’t matter. Tate Winters was not for me.
"I'm cooking dinner at Holden's house tonight," Jo said, hesitantly. "Will you come over?"
I thought about it. I liked Holden, liked the way he was with Jo. But I hadn't seen enough to be sure, and she was my best friend. I should go check him out. Suddenly suspicious, I asked, “Is Tate going to be there?"
"I didn't invite him, I swear," Jo said.
"Did Holden invite him?"
Jo shook her head. "We didn't talk about inviting anyone but you. I really don't think he did."
My knee-jerk reaction was to say no. No, that's okay. I'll stay home and eat takeout. I stopped myself before I could do it. It wasn't about Tate, not really. I wouldn't be surprised if he showed up. I knew he and Holden had the only two apartments on that floor of the building. To call them apartments was misleading—they were like mansions unto themselves. I'd only seen the first floor of Winters House—they had a killer coffee shop—but based on how big the first level was, the apartments above had to be huge. I got the impression from Jo that Tate and Holden were in and out of each other's places all the time, so if Holden was having company for dinner, it was likely that Tate would show up.
I wanted to see him again, and if he did show, it would be less stressful seeing him with Holden and Jo than it would be if I were on my own. That wasn't the only reason I thought I should say yes. The most dangerous part of my anxiety was the way it narrowed my life. It was always easier to say no, to stay home where I was safe. That was how I ended up homeschooled and agoraphobic when I was a teenager. The therapist who had helped me had taught me that facing my fear, learning that everyday life was not a minefield waiting to explode, was the only way to fix my problem.
It had been a grueling therapy. That first walk around the block by myself, I'd wept the entire time, shaking and sick to my stomach. When I’d reached the safety of home, I’d thrown up. The second had been a little better. I was still shaking and nauseous, but I hadn’t puked. The third was one more step toward normal. It had taken me twenty-seven tries, but eventually, I'd been able to walk around our block with only the barest tingle of nerves. The same thing happened the first time I went to the grocery store by myself. Baby steps. And now that I was mostly functioning like a regular person, I had to be careful that I didn't start saying no too often. I was never going to be a social butterfly, and I'd always thrive with plenty of alone time, but there was no good reason I shouldn't have dinner with my friend and her new boyfriend.
"Okay, sure," I said.
Jo gave me a hug and whispered, “Thanks, Em."
I dressed carefully to go to Holden's, just in case. Being realistic, I knew I wouldn't see Tate. It was Saturday night, and he probably had plans that didn't involve his cousin. Still, I rarely went out looking like a slob. I'd started paying attention to my clothes as part of my therapy. A well-chosen outfit was my armor. Doesn't everyone feel better, stronger, when they know they look good? My face and body weren't anything spectacular. I ate more than I should and didn't get enough exercise, and my figure showed it, though my frame carried the extra weight well, and I was more curvy than lumpy. I had pretty hair, I thought, and great eyelashes. Thick, long, and dark, I never needed mascara. I liked makeup, though I rarely bothered with much of it. I preferred to put my time into my wardrobe. I didn't dress up too often. I didn't like drawing attention to myself, and surrounded by students in jeans and T-shirts, formalwear would have been too much. But everything I owned was deliberately chosen and fit me perfectly.
For dinner with Jo and Holden, I chose a pair of black leggings and a flowing black and cream striped tunic. It was casual and stylish without being showy, and it flattered my curves but didn't draw attention to them. I wasn't going to Jo's new boyfriend's house flashing cleavage. Jo, on the other hand, I dressed in my favorite push-up bra and a V-neck sweater. In her situation, flashing cleavage was completely appr
opriate. She wasn't that interested in clothes, and I always had fun dressing her up.
Holden greeted us at the door and took the bottle of wine I offered, saying to Jo, "I think I picked up everything on your list, but you might want to check."
A voice behind him said, “He never pays attention to his list at the grocery store."
Holden looked pained and shook his head. To me, he said, “Sorry. He found out you were coming over for dinner and refused to leave."
I looked past Holden to see Tate leaning against the center island in the kitchen, a bottle of beer in his hand, a grin on his face, and a slightly uncertain look in his blue eyes. I wasn't sure how I felt about seeing him again. His interest in me made me nervous for all sorts of reasons, some of which I understood and some I didn't want to examine. But I didn't want to make him feel weird about being in his cousin's house. I appreciated that Jo cared about my feelings and had obviously shared her concerns with Holden, but I didn't want to be an object of pity or curiosity. I’d come too far for that.
Hoping to diffuse their worry, I shrugged and said to Holden, “Don't worry about it. I'm cool."
Jo gave me a look, and I sent her a smile that hid my nerves. "Really, I'm fine. He's fine." Raising my voice a little so Tate could hear, I said, “He's like a big puppy. He doesn't take a hint well, but he's harmless."
Holden laughed when Tate said, “Ouch. I don't think I've ever been called a puppy before."
I shrugged. Ready to change the subject, I said to Jo, “Did you tell Holden about Darren?"
She shook her head.
"What about Darren?" Holden asked.
Darren was the guy who'd almost managed to keep Holden and Jo apart. A member of Jo's team for her HCI project, he had a crush on her and hadn't liked her blooming relationship with Holden, so he put a virus on her phone that blocked their calls to each other. They both assumed the other had lost interest, and if it hadn't been for Tate's interference, they would never have gotten together. He was a good guy, even if he was annoyingly persistent.
“So,” Jo said, “You know I emailed Angie everything, including a copy of the virus I found on my phone.”
"You said it had Darren’s signatures all over it," Holden said.
"Everybody leaves signatures in their code. It's hard to avoid, but Darren's were so obvious. I even told him he should never make anything he didn't want traced back to him, or he should clean up his code, and he still made a virus. It's crazy how someone that smart can be so stupid."
"So tell him what happened," I urged.
"I am," Jo said to me. To Holden and Tate, she said, "Angie—she's the head of my project—went through everything and even found that he'd been working on the virus at the lab."
She shook her head. I was right there with her. It was stupid enough that he made the virus in the first place—but hey, we all had our hobbies. To do it on one of the school's computers . . . I couldn't quite wrap my brain around how terribly foolish that was.
"What did she do to him?" Tate asked.
"She kicked him out of our project, for one. But then she passed everything along to the head of the department, and now he's under an academic review. He's probably going to get kicked out of school. I actually feel kind of bad." Holden wrapped his arm around her, pulling her tightly to his side.
"Jo, no," I said. “If he was willing to put a virus on your phone and ruin your relationship with Holden just because he was jealous, what else would he do? He clearly has no moral compass, and if you'd kept quiet, you’d just be leaving him free to screw with somebody else's life later down the road. And maybe that time, it wouldn't work out. Maybe that time, there wouldn't be a Tate to step in and fix it. Maybe it would be someone's job on the line, or worse. You had to say something. And you shouldn't feel bad about it."
"I know," she said, resting her head against Holden's chest. "I know. He's an enormous jerk, and I'm not sorry I punched him. And I guess I'm not sorry he might get kicked out of school. It's just that I know how hard we all worked to get in, and he'll never have a chance like this again. Plus, it makes me wonder what he'll do when he doesn't have anything left to lose."
"Don't worry about that," Holden said, his voice hard. I noticed his eyes meet Tate's, and I got the feeling they were having an entire conversation without words.
"We'll take care of that," Tate said. Jo let out a breath but didn't respond, seeming content to snuggle with Holden. I, on the other hand, wanted more of an explanation.
"What are you going to do?" I asked.
"We know people who can keep an eye on him," Tate said quietly, his blue eyes steady and serious.
"What kind of people?" My imagination was running wild.
"Have you heard of Sinclair Security?" Tate asked. I nodded. The name popped up in the news fairly often, usually in connection with high-profile clients like celebrities, politicians, and billionaires. "We grew up with them. The Sinclairs are like family, and on top of that, they handle all of our security work. Holden will let them know they need Darren on their radar. If he does anything even slightly sketchy, they'll have it covered."
Jo leaned back and looked up at Holden's face, wonder and concern tangling in her eyes. "Holden, you can't do that. They can't just watch him forever. It's too expensive."
"Nothing’s too expensive if it keeps you safe," Holden said, lifting a hand to run his thumb along her jaw, his warm brown eyes on hers. "Sinclair Security has a long list of people they monitor. Adding one more is no big deal, and we have them on retainer. If there’s an extra expense, I don't care. This guy is never going to bother you, or anyone else, again. Never."
"Okay, Holden,” Jo said, her voice a little dreamy. Holden dropped his head to kiss her, and I looked away. I was happy for my best friend. No, not happy. I was thrilled, ecstatic, doing mental cartwheels every time I thought about her with Holden. But that kiss was getting a little too intimate. I remembered something she'd said about having sex on the kitchen island, and I involuntarily took a step back. When Tate's hand closed over my elbow, I jumped.
"Relax, it's just me," he said. Tugging gently, he pulled me out of the kitchen and into the spacious living room with windows overlooking the city and a huge couch facing an equally large television. "Your roommate's cute, but if Holden's going to fuck her in the kitchen again, I don't think I want to watch. I'd rather be alone with you."
At the look in his eyes, heated and intent, every muscle in my body tightened. Not in fear, but in anticipation. My head wasn’t sure about Tate, but my body knew what it wanted—more of Tate.
Chapter Five
Tate
Emily hovered beside the couch, clearly trying to figure out a way to put some space between us. If she sat first, she knew I'd sit next to her. Her hesitance was endearing. I wasn't used to shy women. I’d never found shyness appealing before, but with Emily, I liked it. I made it easy on her and chose a spot right in the middle of the wraparound couch. As I guessed she would, Emily sat catty corner to me on the other side. Close enough to be polite, but not close enough to touch. Oh well. Touching could come later.
"Tell me about your game,” I said, partly to relax her and partly because I genuinely wanted to know. It wasn't often that I found myself attracted to a woman who was not only a gamer, but a game designer. Tech as an industry tended to be a boy’s club, and gaming was no exception. WGC made a point of hiring talented women, but the reality was that they were hard to find. Not enough females gravitated to the industry in the first place, and now that hiring women in tech had become a thing, it was even harder. Plus, whenever I met a woman in my industry, my instinct was to evaluate her as a potential hire. Not with Emily. I already knew, based on what she said she was studying, that she would be an ideal candidate for WGC. The company would have to do without her. I wanted Emily for myself.
Her natural reserve melted away beneath her enthusiasm as she explained the changes she had planned for the sequel to her game. When she said she had a dem
o of the first level on her phone, I put out my hand.
"Gimme," I said. Emily pulled her phone from her back pocket and stared at it for a moment. "Come on," I cajoled. "Just let me see the first level. Please? Pretty please?"
Reluctantly, she handed me the phone, the screen already open to the game. The design was familiar. I could already see she hadn't made any fundamental changes, but the graphics were deeper, richer, and more detailed. She leaned forward on the sofa, her eyes moving between the screen and my face. As I'd hoped, she wanted to see my reaction to her creation more than she needed to preserve the distance between us. After a few moments, she got up and sat beside me.
I don't know if it was perfume, her soap, or just Emily, but she smelled of the ocean, and something lightly floral. The heat of her leg pressing against mine and the fall of her silky dark hair against my arm were distracting. I forced myself to pay attention to the game, telling my cock to be patient. He would have his chance, I hoped, but not if he scared her off by getting hard the first time she sat next to me.
My cock didn't listen. I was glad I was wearing jeans and leaning forward, and doubly glad her attention was on the phone in my hands and not my lap.
I played my way through the first level, marveling at the way she’d stepped up the sophistication of the game for the second version. When she apologized for the graphics, saying they were still a little rough, I shook my head.
"This is amazing," I said. "I wouldn't call it rough." I looked up to see her face only inches from mine, her gray eyes bright, her cheeks flushed. Her pulse thudded in her throat, and her pupils were dilated. It took everything I had not to kiss her. With any other woman, I would have had her flat on her back, her shirt halfway off. But with Emily, I knew I had to take it slow. Sometime before she left tonight, I was going to get my hands on her. Just not yet.
I eased back a little, giving her space, and turned my focus back to the game. The first level was a little more challenging than I would have expected, not that I had any trouble finishing it. I handed back her phone and said, “It's great. You have to let me play the rest when it's done."