Page 39 of Hacker in Love


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“Do you know any coding languages?”

“Yes,” I reply. “I know how to use around ten percent of my iPhone’s capabilities.”

Henn laughs at my silly joke. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re an expert-level coder?”

I shrug. “What can I say, dude? I’m humble.”

Henn grins and takes a sip of wine. “Besides cybersecurity, I offer services in integration, automation, template building and search engine optimization. Some other things, too. But that’s the main stuff. I’d be happy to explain it all to you, in excruciating detail, if you’d like.”

I can’t help giggling. Henn’s facial expression is tantamount to a dare. It’s like he’s daring me to give him permission to unleash the world’s most boring monologue.

“No, I’m good,” I say. “I can google all that stuff later, if I find myself dying to know.”

“Suit yourself. You’re missing out, though. It’s wildly exciting stuff.” He waggles his eyebrows, making me laugh again.

“Is your company a one-man operation, or do you have a team?”

“It’s just lil ol’ me, sitting alone in front of a computer screen all day, every day, drinking way too many Americanos and noticing my eyesight deteriorating in real time.”

I grimace at that description. “Do you like what you do well enough to ruin your eyesight over it, hopefully?”

“I do, actually. I fucking love what I do.”

“Oh, that’s great to hear. Not too many people can say that. I bet you love being your own boss, too.”

Henn nods. “Although the downside is I’m constantly having to run to HR—me—to report sexual harassment of me by me. So that’s a bummer.” Henn chuckles along with me. “Seriously, though,” he continues, “I’d be a horrible employee. I’d fire myself instantly for insubordination and a total lack of accountability.”

I sip my wine. “Having a boss is the absolute worst part of my job. Well, having my boss, anyway. She’s super old school. Like, she wants to see our faces in the office until late at night, and she hawks over us like she thinks we’re too stupid or lazy to do our jobs right.”

“Ugh. It’s basic management, dude. Make people feel valued, not belittled.”

“Exactly. I wouldn’t mind the job if I had a good boss. In fact, I think I’d love it.”

“Maybe you should start your own PR company and work for yourself. I’d help you get a website and some SEO going.”

My jaw hangs open at Henn’s generosity. “You’d do that for me?”

“What good are my superpowers, if I don’t use them to help the coolest person on Planet Earth make her dreams come true?”

Even as my belly is bursting with butterflies, I manage to pull off a sarcastic bit. Furrowing my brow, I deadpan, “Wait a motherfucking minute, sir. You’re saying there’s someone cooler than me on another planet?”

Henn chuckles. “My apologies. I should have said the coolest person in the universe.”

“That’s better. Jeez.” I laugh with him. “All kidding aside, thank you so much for the offer, but I’m not sure I’m ready for self-employment.”

“Sure, you are.”

I bite back a huge smile and lean forward. “This is confidential, but I’ve actually got a possible dream job in the works, as we speak.” I hold up crossed fingers. “Kat’s thinking about starting her own PR company, and she asked me if I’d consider working for her, if she does.”

“For her or with her? Would you be Kat’s partner or employee?”

I twist my mouth. “We didn’t talk specifics. Maybe I’m assuming I’d be her employee?”

“Aren’t you Kat’s boss at your current firm?”

“Technically, yes, ever since my promotion. But we’ve always worked together as a team. I don’t care about labels and titles all that much. All I care about is making what I’m making now, or close to it, and getting to continue working with my best friend.”

Henn’s dark eyes noticeably sparkle. “Have I mentioned I really like you, Hannah Milliken?”

I don’t know what I’ve said to elicit that reaction, but I’m thrilled to hear it. As heat crawls across my cheeks and a wide smile splits my face, I reply, “I really like you, too.”

As we’re both beaming smiles at each other, the waiter arrives with our main courses—salmon, of course—and we enthusiastically dig into our food.

“Well?” I ask.

“Fantastic,” Henn confirms after his first bite. “I’m most definitely going to feast till my stomach’s delight.”

I roll my eyes. “I don’t know where half the weird stuff I say comes from.”

“I love the way you talk. Makes me feel like I’m not quite so alone in this big, bad world. In middle school, I tried to talk like everyone else for a few months, but it hurt my brain too much, so I had to stop.”

“Same here. God, I tried so hard in middle school to sound like everyone else, but it was hopeless. Thankfully, I finally realized I felt happiest when letting my inner dork hang all the way out. And I haven’t looked back, ever since.”

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