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“Probably. Actually, yes. I’m pretty damned sure I would.”
“Gah! I’ll change my flight and stay another night!”
“No, no. I’d never forgive myself if one of the other programmers swooped in and got the reward while you were here, watching me ride a Sybian. Now, close your eyes and let’s get some sleep before we head to the airport. I’ll ride a Sybian to celebrate when you finally finish this job.”
“No pressure.”
“I know. I want to do it. But not tonight.”
Henn waggles his eyebrows. “You know what we could do tonight? We could decide to sleep when we’re dead and use the rest of our time together to pretend I’m a Sybian.”
I pull a face. “Are you even capable of that, with all the booze in your system?” I reach under the covers and touch his penis, fully expecting it to be flaccid, but to my surprise, it’s rock hard. “Oh. Hello.”
“Let me be your Sybian, cowgirl.”
“Yeehaw.” With that, I slide on top of him, straddle his hips, and then lean down and kiss him passionately. As we kiss, he strokes me, until soon, I’m aroused and wet and ready for action. With a wicked smile, I slide myself down onto his shaft, prompting Henn to start making a weird buzzing noise.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I ask, laughing.
“I’m your Sybian. They’re pretty noisy, from what I’ve seen in videos.”
“You’re such a dork.”
“It takes one to know one.”
“Yes, it does.”
“I love you, Hannah,” he whispers, all traces of playfulness gone from his tone.
“I love you, too.” I lean down and kiss him again, and we begin to move together. As we make love, Henn showers me with compliments. He tells me I’m beautiful. Gorgeous. Sexy. Hot. Smart. Funny. Perfect. And right before I climax, he says something I would have thought would freak me out, but surprisingly, only turns me on: “And one day, my pretty Plátana, I’m gonna make you my wife.”
26
HENN
Fuck my life.
I’m no longer losing hope that I’ll be able to solve the Rubik’s cube that is this godawful, endless project. I’m now officially hopeless. Done. Fried. Exhausted beyond anything I’ve experienced before. I’m a human bag of smashed assholes.
I thought I’d be the genius to figure this shit out, after a whole lot of smart hackers before me couldn’t do it. But it turns out I’d vastly overestimated my talents. I’m a mere mortal, as it turns out, and a deluded one, at that. I’m not Superman, after all. I’m Don Fucking Quixote trying to conquer a windmill.
At present, I’m shuffling my sorry ass down the hallway of my budget hotel in DC—the place I’ve called home for what feels like half my fucking life—after a particularly long and brutal day of trying to crack an uncrackable code. It’s now clear all my hard work, all the time away from Hannah and the life we could be building together, has been for naught. Pointless. Futile. The worst mistake of my life.
I was so sure my Big Idea would do the trick today—that, finally, after weeks of methodical coding and tinkering—that fucking encryption would finally become my bitch. And yet, when the time came today, the big payoff I was expecting didn’t happen. Which means I’m now officially stumped because that was my last idea. All that’s left inside my brain now is useless mush, along with a whole lot of frustration and regret.
My head hung low, I reach the door of my hotel room and drag myself inside the drab room. After putting down my keycard and jacket with a heavy sigh, I text Hannah to see if she’s still up and available for our nightly FaceTime call. We normally talk much earlier in the evening than this, so I’m not surprised when she doesn’t reply to my text. She’s probably already fast asleep. Shit. I wish I’d had my phone with me in that small work room, so I could have at least texted her a simple “Goodnight. I love you” a couple hours ago. But, unfortunately, I totally lost track of time when I thought I was on a major roll.
I head into the bathroom and take a hot shower, letting my thoughts wander as I stand under the streaming water. If I hadn’t left for this stupid gig, but had instead stayed in Seattle with Hannah until Jonas and Sarah’s wedding, would Hannah have looked terrified or elated when I kneeled before her that night? Would I be engaged today to the love of my life, if it weren’t for this stupid boondoggle of a fucking job? I guess I’ll never know.
I thought coming here to chase the money would be well worth it. I thought I’d use the reward money to buy a kickass dream house in LA, one that Hannah wouldn’t be able to resist moving into with me. And now, all I’ve got to show for my lengthy time away is homesickness, lovesickness, and a deep-seated fear that my absence at the very beginning of my budding relationship with Hannah has inflicted irreversible damage onto it. Have I snuffed out our once-in-a-lifetime spark by being gone and inattentive for too long at a critical juncture? Hannah’s given me nothing but support during all of this, but there’s only so much intimacy a couple can feel over nightly FaceTime calls.
