Page 86 of Lennox Lane

Lane stared. “You were a top basketball prospect, and this is the first I’m hearing about it?”

“You didn’t ask,” he shrugged.

“I didn’t know there was an athletic DLC package to download.”

Lennox laughed. “I loved the game.”

The smile faded a little.

Lane caught it. “But?”

“But my father found out what I could do with computers.” He turned his fork against the plate, eyes lowering briefly. “After that, basketball became a hobby he tolerated as long as it didn’t interfere with what he thought I was actually useful for.”

Lane’s anger rose fast and hot. She didn’t pity Lennox, but she recognized what it was like to have your joy stolen from you by a parent. Lane reached under the table and found his hand as he looked down at their joined fingers.

This time, she squeezed first. That squeeze made him comfortable enough to tell her about his position and just how great he was before his father learned he could hack a hacker. There was a sadness that she’d never seen from Lennox.

“What’s your favorite color?” she nosed.

The pivot made his brows lift. “Random.”

“I know your tragic hacker origin story and your basketball grief. I need regular facts too.”

His thumb moved over her knuckles. “Black and green.”

She paused. “Green?”

“Deep green, what’s yours?” he asked, though he knew the answer.

“Lavender.”

“No surprise there.”

“And orange,” she added.

His gaze swept over her. “I remember.”

She refused to blush this time on principle. “What’s your favorite food?” she asked.

“Depends on the day. Oxtails if my aunt makes them. A good steak or some seafood pasta if my mother makes it.”

“Breakfast?”

He grimaced.

Lane leaned forward. “What?”

“I hate breakfast eggs.”

The world paused as Lane slowly set down her fork. “I’m sorry. Say that again.”

“I hate breakfast eggs.”

She stared at him, and he stared back. “You too?” she asked.

His eyes narrowed in interest. “You hate eggs?”

“With my whole chest. Scrambled eggs smell like wet punishment.”