Chapter Eleven #2
The elevator was too slow, the traffic too loud, the sidewalk full of people who existed only to block my path.
By the time I reached my apartment, my shoulder ached from my overstuffed tote and my head ached from everything else.
I kicked off my shoes at the door, tossed my bag onto the counter, and collapsed into the sofa only to realize, I’d forgotten to pick up dinner.
Oh well, I was home, I wasn’t leaving again. I could always order something.
I opened my laptop. There was a new notification: IT had flagged “unusual activity” on my account. I scrolled through the audit log, heart rate doubling. Three login attempts at 2 a.m. Not me. Not even close.
Who was doing this, and why? Leverage? Blackmail? The way the accesses were spaced, the specific directories poked and prodded; it felt almost familiar. Like someone knew exactly where to look to make me doubt myself.
I stared at the screen, waiting for logic to intervene. It didn’t. The more I looked, the less sense it made.
I needed an outside brain. There was only one option.
I FaceTimed Margot.
She answered on the second ring, still in yoga gear, skin flushed from a run or a really good laugh. “Liiiiiiiz! Did you die?”
I snorted. “Not yet. You busy?”
“Just sculpting my ass. What’s up?”
I tried to keep my tone casual. “It’s still happening. And Gabriel kissed me.”
Margot’s face went full drama: eyebrows high, mouth open. “Was it hot? Did you guys fuck?”
I winced. “Yeah. And no. But someone is still hacking into my system and messing things up for me. By now I’d have expected… something. Theft, threats, something. It’s weird.”
Margot’s eyes sharpened. “Tongue?”
I rolled my eyes. “I can’t prove it’s anything, but-”
“Did he grab your ass while kissing you?”
“No. This is serious, Margot.” I hesitated. “I think someone wants me to look incompetent.”
She leaned in, elbows on the table. “Okay, spill. Who do you think it is? Should I make a voodoo doll?”
I laughed despite myself. “No voodoo.”
Margot tsked at me. “You never let me try voodoo.”
I dodged. “Next time. Maybe I’m seeing patterns that aren’t there.”
She shook her head. “You said next time last time. And you only see patterns because they’re there. Remember sophomore year? You called out that guy for plagiarizing your code, everyone said you were paranoid, and then he tried to delete your project from the server?”
I did remember. I remembered every micro-infraction, every time someone tried to undermine me. “Maybe I need new hobbies.”
“You need new coworkers. Or a less sabotage-prone job.”
“Ha. You and me both.”
Margot’s mood did a hard pivot, all business now. “So. Kissed your work husband. Gonna go out of town with him, maybe there’ll be a room mix up and you’ll wind up sharing a bed?”
“Oh my gosh, who’s side are you on?”
“Yours. And you love-” she held up a hand, “-debating, I mean, not Gabriel himself. Unless…?”
I shot her a glare.
“Oh my god. You so do.” She went high octave. “You so do. This is a hate-crush. No wonder you’re spiraling. I can’t believe I missed it. What happened?”
“Nothing.” My voice was too sharp.
Margot grinned, not fooled for a second. “Did you hook up?”
“No.”
“Did you want to?”
I choked on air. “Margot.”
She cackled. “That’s a yes.”
I changed the subject with surgical skill. “He was with my brother this morning. In the office. They were talking about me like I wasn’t there.”
Margot’s humor flickered out. “Was it bad?”
“Not… exactly. Just weird. Like they were on a wavelength I wasn’t invited to.”
She chewed on this. “You don’t like being the odd woman out.”
“No one does.”
“You least of all.” She pointed at me through the screen. “I know that look. You’re about to either start a conspiracy board or go totally silent.”
“I’m not starting anything.”
She grinned. “So, silent.”
I wanted to be annoyed, but she was right.
Margot softened. “You know you can ask for help, right? Not just from me. From, like, other humans. Sometimes you’re allowed.”
I pretended to be distracted by my phone. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
She let me get away with it, this time. “If you need an alibi, I have a friend who owes me a solid and can get you out of pretty much anything. Just say the word.”
With a laugh, I spoke, “Where do you meet your friends?”
We talked for another twenty minutes. Margot tried to get me to commit to drinks this weekend, or at least a phone call from the road. She signed off with her usual, “Don’t burn anything down unless it’s absolutely necessary. And if it is, film it.”
When the screen went dark, my apartment felt a hundred times more empty.
I opened my laptop again, stared at the audit log. The lines blurred. I wanted to reach out to Gabriel, demand an explanation, but I knew how that would look. Like I was rattled. Like I’d lost. Or like I wanted to talk to him, because there was no reason to bother him about it.
So I sat in the dark. I lay on the couch, eyes burning, trying to game out the next week. London. Gabriel. Days of forced proximity, meetings, and only a door between us while we slept.
I pictured us on the plane, shoulder to shoulder in business class, pretending the armrest was a wall instead of an invitation.
I imagined the hotel: neutral ground, nowhere to hide.
I could see his hands on the keyboard during the presentation, hear the faint click of his watch, feel every millimeter of his attention like a burn.
I hated that the anticipation wasn’t just dread.
It was excitement.
Desire.
Daydreams that led back to him.
How was I going to survive the trip?