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"I wince on behalf of personal assistants everywhere,” I say, lightly and with a smile, thoughthe implication of a program capable of replacing them is staggering.
Trent laughs."It's a shitty, boring job. They'll be able to apply for something more interesting once that's taken care of for them."
Any other day, I would have called him an ass for his assessment of a profession that has fed millions of people—almost all of whom are women—worldwide. But I'm tired, so I just say, “Wouldn’t that be AI, more than robotics?”
“Something in between. The program doesn’t evolve, and isn’t trying to be human, so it’s not AI—it just performs its tasks. But it performs themverywell, so it’s like having humans working in your office. Better than human,” he amends cockily.
I’m unreasonably irritated. “Why did you only get a B if it's that good?”
“Well, it wasn’t perfect last year. I tweaked it after getting some feedback.” He grimaces. “Jeffreys said the coding lacked elegance, whatever that means. He was just jealous. So today, I told him about the companies bidding for it over the summer. He went purple. Most teachers haven’t ever achieved anything, really."
My instinct is to argue, but I suspect I’m not truly annoyed at Trent, so I decide to try to stay supportive. "That must have felt good."
“Absolutely. But enough about me. We're here to celebrateyourfirst day, not the start of my junior year. How was it?"
He really is such a nice guy.
I sigh. "Busy. The café's been under siege since the start of the week. I had the morning shift, and I literally was rushed off my feet for eight hours nonstop. I need to get better work shoes." I had to put on two layers of socks to pad my blisters. I spare him that visual. "Then I crashed before—"
I interrupt myself. As I rerun through my day, I realize itmight not have been Damian visiting the house.
Some hottie with dark hair, big shoulders, and a drop-your-panties aura.
It could have been Camden coming to my apartment, entering my safe place, my domain.What would be the odds of two guys looking for me on the same day? It had to be him.
The chatter of the restaurant seems to cease around me. I can't see or hear anything except the thundering in my chest.He knows where I live. He could go back there. Oh, god.
“—gan! Morgan."
A hand clasps mine, and I blink several times, finding Trent staring at me with fear.
"You're really not well, are you? Let me take you home."
“No, no, I’m—” I don't know why I insist. Home is exactly where I need to be. My mind just isn't here today. I intended to use Trent as a distraction, but that's not working. And it's a bit of a shitty thing to do, too. "You're right. I think I pushed it today."
"You should call your doctor. I've never seen you like this."
"No, I'm fine, honestly." I'm not about to explain I'm in this state because a guy showed up. "I just need to rest."
We ride in silence, my leftovers—that is to say, the entire pizza, save for a bite—in a box on my lap. When the Uber stops in front of my complex, Trent presses his lips against mine, as he has done fifty, seventy, a hundred times.I didn’t count.
Nothing. I feel nothing.
I don’t usually feel much at all, but tonight, I notice just how numb I am. I might as well kiss the back of my hand.
I return his kiss because I don't want to be rude, but I yet again wonder why Trent bothers with me. It can’t be that good for him, as it’s so bland for me. Chemistry is a two-way street, and judging by my side of it, we have none.
I’m the one ending the kiss. As usual, I find an excuse. “We don't want to keep the driver."
That sounds a lot better than“I’m bored.”
I open my door and rush out in the warmth, relieved to be alone.
Yet at my door, I hesitate, not quite sure of what's waiting for me inside.
He came here, I'm almost certain of it.Would that I had my phone on me, to send a message to Damian and check.
I make myself take the four flights of stairs and walk into my home.
