Chapter 31
THIRTY-ONE
The atmosphere in our home office is tense.
Grey, Oliver, and I are seated around the large desk, our eyes glued to the screens showing Amelia working in her apartment.
Since I apologized yesterday, she’s back to being the Amelia we knew before.
Today, we got her to eat lunch with us, and Grey took charge of choosing her food.
As we sat together, we talked about the escape room we had completed first as a team.
We laughed about the golden magnifying glass they awarded us for winning, while Grey just rolled his eyes at the whole thing.
Back to normal.
But normal feels wrong.
Oliver breaks the silence, his voice tentative, “Maybe we should stop watching her. It might help with the obsession, with the feelings. Maybe it would be easier being friends that way if we stopped.”
Grey doesn’t even look up from the screen.
“You go ahead and stop watching her. I won’t.
That woman is not able to articulate her feelings or watch out for herself.
If I don’t take care of her, who will? She certainly doesn’t.
She hasn’t even eaten dinner again. And Jamie is still off. I swear to God…”
“Grey, chill. You sound like a fucking stalker,” I interject, trying to keep my tone light but failing to hide my concern.
Grey’s eyes flash with irritation. “Oh, you haven’t noticed? We are fucking stalkers. All three of us.”
Oliver shifts uncomfortably. “That’s a little harsh.”
Grey’s voice is cold. “Oh, sorry, my bad. But I can only please one person per day. Today is not your day, and tomorrow doesn’t look good either.”
He’s been in a really bad mood since we agreed on just staying friends with Amelia, and I don’t think that will change soon. But let’s be real, I also don’t believe that the just friends thing will work out for long.
Someone will fuck up.
The tension in the room is palpable, and I can feel it building, threatening to erupt into a full-blown fight. We’ve never had a real fight before. Sure, we get hot-headed and argue, but this feels different, more dangerous.
I’m just about to say something to defuse the situation when we hear Amelia yell, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “Fucking hell, yes!”
We all snap our heads toward the screen, watching as she jumps up from her couch, excitement radiating from her. She’s practically glowing, a huge smile on her face as she looks at whatever’s on her computer screen.
A moment later, holographic diagrams, floating notes, and interactive elements fill the room.
Digital blueprints hover over her workspace, surrounded by complex equations and detailed schematics.
Virtual Post-it notes with reminders and ideas drift around, suspended in midair.
The entire space is a blend of reality and digital augmentation.
Amelia stands in the middle of it all when she pushes a button on her glasses, looking around with awe and delight before screaming again, “Yes, yes, yes!” She jumps up and down, her joy infectious even through the screen.
We’re all flabbergasted, staring in disbelief.
Grey is the first to speak. “Is this what I think it is?”
“Well, if you think that we just watched her revolutionize the tech industry, then yes, you are right,” I mumble.
Oliver’s eyes widen. “She just made AR visible to the naked eye.”
Grey runs a hand through his hair, a rare look of amazement crossing his face. “Holy shit.”
Before we can say anything else, the door to Amelia’s apartment opens, and the blonde girl from next door rushes in. “Are you okay? I heard you scream.”
Amelia looks startled but quickly composes herself. “Willow, you can’t just let yourself in like that,” she says, her tone sharper than usual.
We watch as Willow’s eyes widen, taking in the AR elements scattered throughout the room.
Oh shit.
“Wow,” she exclaims, reaching out to touch one of the floating Post-it notes. She pushes it, and it moves across the room. Giggling, she starts interacting with the AR, rearranging digital notes.
Amelia’s worry is palpable as she steps closer to Willow, her voice more urgent. “Hey, that’s not a game. Please don’t change anything.” But the girl doesn’t listen to her, and Amelia’s eyes dart to the door, her movements becoming more frantic. “Willow, stop.”
Then, we hear Amelia’s coworker’s voice calling from outside the apartment. “Willow, where are you?”
“Here!” Willow calls back just as Amelia manages to get to her laptop and deactivate the AR, making the icons disappear into thin air, and the room looks normal again.
Willow rushes to open the door wider for her father, a grin on her face. “Amelia has a new toy. It’s so cool.”
“Willow, how many times do I have to tell you… ugh. I’m sorry, Stanley.” He rubs his neck. “Come on, Willow, it’s time to go to bed.”
“I don’t like how familiar he talks with her,” Grey grumbles.
He fucking calls her by her last name, dude.
Willow pouts, crossing her arms defiantly. “It’s only nine.”
Her father scowls, his patience visibly wearing thin. “Do you still want that new phone or not?”
Willow huffs, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “Goodnight, Amelia,” she mutters, dragging her feet as she moves out of the door.
Amelia forces a smile, though her eyes still reflect her lingering anxiety. “Goodnight.”
Hendricks gives Amelia an apologetic nod before guiding his daughter away.
As soon as the door closes, Amelia’s smile fades. Her shoulders slump further, and she runs a hand through her hair, her fingers trembling slightly. She looks around her apartment, now back to its normal state, and the worry lines on her face deepen.
That was close.
We have to find a way to help her hide it until she’s ready to launch… whatever it is.
Amelia locks the door and heads to the bathroom. The sound of the shower turning on echoes faintly through the speakers, and it’s the only sound in the office since we all seem to be too stunned to talk.
The things she could do with that.
The lives she will change.
When she emerges, she’s dressed in gray sweatpants and a hoodie, her hair damp and clinging to her face.
I watch as she makes a cup of tea, and there’s a subtle tremor in her hands as she pours the water.
I can’t help but notice the way her shoulders slump, the weariness in every movement.
She walks to the window, where rain taps softly against the glass, and stands there for a moment.
The darkness outside presses in, the rain blurring the world beyond, but it’s her stillness that holds my attention.
She takes a sip of her tea, and I see her gaze grow distant, unfocused, as if she’s searching for something in the rain-soaked night that she can’t quite find.
It’s hard to watch her like this, knowing she’s carrying so much on her own. I wish I could reach out and help ease the burden she’s clearly struggling with, but all I can do is watch from afar, feeling the tight knot of worry in my chest grow tighter with every passing second.
After what feels like an eternity, she finally turns away from the window. Her steps are slower now as she moves to the couch, and wraps herself in a blanket. The sight of her like this—small, almost fragile—twists something inside me.
She picks up the remote, and the television flickers to life. The dim glow from the screen highlights her face, casting shadows that deepen the worry lines etched there as the familiar dialogue of Twilight fills the space.
“That’s my sign to go to bed,” Grey mutters, getting up from his chair.
He’s been sleeping like shit the last few days—I know because I was awake, too—so I’m glad he’s finally going to rest.
Oliver yawns, stretching his arms over his head. “Yeah, I think I’m done, too,” he says, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses.
“Go to sleep, both of you,” I tell them. “I’ll… keep an eye on her.”
I don’t have to explain.
They know.
With nods of understanding, they get up and head to their rooms. Once they’re gone, I pull up a second camera feed, positioning it so I can watch the movie along with Amelia while still being able to see her. It feels a bit less lonely this way, sharing the same moment, even from a distance.
After the second movie of the series ends, Amelia stretches and yawns but shows no sign of abandoning her spot on the couch.
She selects the third movie, and I realize she’s not going to sleep anytime soon.
I’m not sleepy either, and the idea of both of us being awake but apart feels shittier the longer I sit in it. I grab my phone and text her.
You up?
She jumps at the sound of her phone but leans over to grab it. A smile spreads across her face when she sees my name, giving me butterflies.
Fuck.
Amelia
It’s raining. I’m so not hiking up a mountain in the rain.
Little minx.
And how is the weather inside you?
A little windy. How’s your weather?
It’s always sunny when you’re around.
God, that was cheesy as fuck.
I quickly type another message so she doesn’t have to answer that.
How about a hike down to the garage…
Getting into the car…
And going on an adventure to get ourselves some veggie burgers?
She grins, and I can almost hear her stomach growl. She puts a hand on her belly, making me laugh.
Make it chips and I’m down.
Why is her being British such a turn-on?
Or is it just her being her?
Deal
I’ll be there in ten.
Her eyes widen as she looks down at herself, so I quickly text again.
I’m going in sweatpants.
Please match so I don’t have to feel underdressed.
Deal.
After changing into said sweatpants and a hoodie, I grab the key card for the Tesla and head down to her floor.
When the elevator opens up, Amelia is already waiting.
She steps in, her hoodie pulled up. She’s still in her sweatpants, too, as promised, and seeing her like this—comfortable, casual, and smiling—makes my heart race.
“Hi,” she says, her voice low and warm.
“Hey, Bug,” I reply, smiling at her. “Ready for an adventure?”