"No," I admitted. She made it sound so easy, but after the way Emily had shut me down, I'd been fairly certain she wouldn't give me her number. "I asked her out, and she said no."
"Sorry," Jo said, sounding like she meant it. “Emily doesn't date."
"I'd like to change her mind about that," I said, trying to look sincere and trustworthy. Josephine shook her head.
"I can't," she said. "I can't give you her number. I'd have to ask her first, and if you thought she wanted you to have her number, you would've asked her yourself, right?"
She had me there. But I wasn't going to give up that easily. Meeting Josephine's blue eyes with my own, I said, “You owe me one, and you know it. If it hadn't been for me, you and lover boy over there never would've reconnected, and that douche in your program would've split you up with the virus he put on your phone. Do me a favor and just give me Emily's number. I promise I won't do anything to hurt her."
Josephine shifted against Holden, pulling away from him to cross her arms over her chest. She studied me for a long moment before she said, “Why do you want her number?"
"I want to take her out. I want to get to know her better." Her searching gaze dug beneath my explanation, demanding more. "I like her," I said. "I think there could be something there, but we’ll never know unless we spend some time together.” I turned away from Josephine and Holden to find a bottle opener in the drawer.
Holden let out a sigh. "Give me one of those," he said, nodding toward my beer.
"Josephine?"
“Sure.”
I pulled two more beers out of the fridge and opened all three, sliding theirs across the white marble-topped island.
"So, you like her like her? Holden asked.
I thought about glaring at him, but instead, I said, “You're one to talk."
"Touché." His grin was completely unashamed. I wasn’t sure what I was doing with my own love life, but I liked seeing Holden so happy. It almost made me feel bad about badgering his new girlfriend.
"The thing is," Jo said, interrupting us, “Em doesn't date. Anyone. Ever. And I'm not so sure you’re the best guy for her to start with."
"What are you saying?" I asked. Josephine looked away and took a drink of her beer before answering.
"I'm not gonna tell you personal things about Emily. She's my best friend, and her life is private. But she's really shy. Off the charts shy. More than just shy. And you're not low-profile. I'm not sure you two would be a good fit."
"So I don't even get a shot?" I asked, starting to get annoyed. I just wanted to go out with the girl. I wasn't planning to kidnap her and ravage her against her will.
"It's just that,” Jo went on, “Emily knows better than anyone what she can handle. She was definitely interested in you, and she's very interested in your work, so if she wouldn't go out with you, she had her reasons, and I don't feel comfortable going against that."
"What if I promise I won't call her?” I said, feeling the unfamiliar sensation of desperation rising in my chest. "I'll text her. I can be nonthreatening."
Josephine didn't respond, just stared down into the open mouth of her beer bottle, thinking.
Finally, she said, "I've never seen her react to anyone the way she did to you last night. Until she remembered to be nervous, she went head-to-head with you. Confrontation is not Emily's thing, but she was comfortable with you. And you have a lot in common."
Josephine fell silent again. I liked her with my cousin, liked the way they looked at each other. When Holden slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her tight against him, I liked it even more. The small spark of jealousy I felt only made me more determined to get Emily's number.
Emily had asked me if I wanted a girlfriend, and I hadn't answered. I didn't have a good vision of what having a girlfriend might mean. It was only in the last year or so that I'd started to think maybe there was more to life than sleeping with nameless girls, partying, and work. Watching Holden cradle Josephine in his arms, knowing that once I was out of their way, he’d take her back to bed . . . yeah, I was jealous. I remembered the way Emily had yelled at me the night before when she thought Holden had dumped Jo, the way she'd pointed her finger at me like an angry schoolteacher, her gray eyes sharp and filled with the passion of fury. I liked that girl as much as the quiet one who said, No, Thank You when I'd asked her out.
"I'll be careful with her," I said. "I promise. I don't know what I'm doing here, but I swear, I'm not looking to nail her and never call her again."
"You’d fucking better not be," Holden growled at me.
I rolled my eyes at him.
"Seriously? Would I be here talking about my feelings and begging your girl for Emily's number if I was just gonna sleep with her and ghost on her? Give me a little credit."
"That's your usual MO," he said evenly.
"It's yours too," I shot back, "but look at you now."
"Okay," Jo cut in. "I'll give you her number. But, you have to promise to go slowly." Then, mysteriously, she said, "I don't think there are many people who will understand certain parts of your life as well as Emily. She's worth it."
I had no doubt Emily would be worth it. My gut was telling me that there were hidden depths to the girl, depths I would like. But I’d never find them unless I could get her to talk to me again.
I watched Josephine put Emily's number in my phone, her brow still furrowed in concern as she handed it back. I didn't stick around. I wanted to dig for more information on Emily, anything that would help me win her over, but I needed Josephine on my side, and I had a feeling if I pushed her too hard, her tentative approval would evaporate. It only took me a minute to go from Holden’s place to mine, since our apartments split an entire floor of Winters House, the upscale historic retail/office/residential building owned by my cousin, Jacob. I shut the door behind me and flipped the lock out of habit, distracted by the phone in my hand.
I had the first step. I had Emily’s number. Now I just had to think of what to say.
Figuring I might as well confess right off the bat, I typed out a text.
This is Tate. I badgered Jo for your number. Don't be mad at her. I was very charming.
I hit Send and waited, wondering if she'd answer. If she didn't, I'd have to think of something else. It took so long, I was about to give up when my phone chimed and I checked the screen.
I'd never be mad at Jo. But I doubt you were that charming.
I thought for a minute. She had to be teasing me. If she were really mad, she wouldn't have answered, right?
I was a little charming. I also refused to leave, and I think they wanted to get back to bed.
A minute later, she sent back,
So you were annoying. I can see that.
What are you doing right now? I typed.
Working on graphics for a game.
School or yours?
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.
4
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 appropriate. 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.
Vote Then Read: Volume II Page 53