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Kate grins at this. “No better options.”
I wince, pressing my hand to my chest. “Oh, I’m wounded.” I study my hands. “You said you wanted to annoy your parents. Did I live up to expectations?”
She laughs. “What do you think?”
What was I thinking checking up on her family before coming up here? It started off innocently enough, looking people up on LinkedIn, but before I knew it, I was hacking into Javier’s computer to find out what he was really like. I shift uncomfortably in my seat. Kate’s eyes are flickering between the rear-view mirror and the parkway as she drives, and I need to take my mind off this weekend, what I might have set in motion and the damage I might have done.
“I’m sorry.”
“What? Don’t be! I enjoyed it. It was anything but boring.” She shakes her head laughing, indicating to pull out as she checks the road. “I can’t quite believe all that happened.”
“That’s what I do when I’m bored and drunk: I cause trouble.” I pick at some hard skin on my thumb.
“I think you caused trouble because you were confronted by a couple of assholes.”
“Yeah, but one of them was your dad.”
“He’s been an asshole all my life. My parents are …” She hesitates. “If he’s really involved in what you think he is, then warning him was the right thing to do.”
“Maybe.” I’m still not sure whether I should have exposed her father in front of his family like that. “Probably could have done it in a better way.”
She shakes her head at me. “He’s not the kind of guy who’ll listen to some more reasoned approach.”
And I get it, he didn’t give me that vibe either.
The easy understanding we have is like an unstoppable force. What was I thinking pushing her away? My eyes wander over her. She’s looking a little less than her usual perfect self and fuck, I like it. Her face is bare and she’s wearing a pair of ripped jeans that are loose and slouchy and an oversized sweater that keeps falling off her shoulder. What is it with this girl and tops that slide off? The reaction it sets off in me is like tinder in dry brush. I’m guessing I’ve got weekend Kate now, and I don’t want to let her go home: I want another night.
“I’m wondering where you’re sleeping tonight,” I say, the words bubbling up and out before I can stop them.
Her eyebrows raise, and she risks a quick glance at me before her eyes skitter back to the road.
“Are you working tomorrow?” I say.
“I’m at the hospital, a late shift. I start at midday. Are you inviting me for a sleepover?” A small smile dances over her face.
I grin at her profile. “I might be.”
She nods. “Then I’m spending the night with you.”
I blink at her.She said yes.Now the drive morphs into something else entirely; I’m no longer worried and bored, I’m torturing myself. I examine her bare shoulder, the creamy skin, and I shift in my seat, propping a dirty boot against the dash. What will she let me do? What might she do to me? I’m hardening in my jeans, unable to tamp it down.
By the time we’ve found a parking spot near my place, tension is thrumming through me. As I head to the back of the car, I scan the street but nothing trips my radar. I grab my backpack and her bag before reaching for her hand as she appears around the trunk. She squeezes my hand and grins at me, and I can’t resist pulling her forward and leaning in, locking our entwined hands on her butt and hauling her right into my body, stopping just short of her lips as she tilts her head, eyes fluttering closed, expecting my kiss. Holding us there, I smile when her eyes pop open again, breath soft against my skin. Her eyes are a hundred different shades of blue, like a screen of pixels.
“What are you doing?” she says, crinkles appearing around the edges of her eyes.
“Anticipating,” I say.
14
Kate
If Fabian’s apartment is anything like the inside of his mind, then I can see why he’s an amazing hacker. Computers are everywhere, boxes and boxes of kit, stacked to the rafters. A label written in a neat script adorns every box: memory boards, ethernet cables, power adaptors. Everything is tidy and clean. When I question him about it, he just shrugs and says, “You have to be organized to be a decent hacker.”
A set of shelves stretches from the door to the windows along the long wall in his bedroom, and there are piles of books and the kind of electronic boards you’d see in a computer with wires attached. Under the windows, a wooden desk is fitted tight against the brickwork with two office chairs and a bank of screens. A huge bed and two comfy red armchairs sit in the center of the large room.
In two steps, Fabian twists me right into the middle of his dark blue duvet and gray sheets, and hovers over me like a dog contemplating a meal, inspecting every part of me. Why isn’t it embarrassing? I would say I’m pretty uptight in bed, but this feels different. I don’t feel uncomfortable, not even a little bit.
Kneeling between my legs, he reaches behind his head with one hand and pulls his T-shirt up and off, pulling me up to do the same. The muscles in his arms pop out with the movement, and the tattoos on his torso shift as he trails a slim finger down my arm, creating goosebumps in its wake. His body is a map, intricate patterns of swirling ink, the bluebirds on his shoulder leading into winding decorative lines of script over his chest and arms. I trace them with my hand. I’ve never been able to live in the moment, always strategizing, always looking for problems to solve, but his skin quietens all the voices.
