Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
Sam
Four Years Ago
D raped in a blanket, I sit in the middle of my bed, the light from my laptop turning the rest of the room into a scene from a horror movie. In the thick darkness creeping around my bed, stretching into the far recesses of my room, I bet there's something waiting.
That's something I still do even though I'm not a child anymore—imagine what might want to reach out and grab me.
After my parents left home and didn't return, that thought would keep me up at night until the sun rose. And by the time I was ready to let sleep claim me, it was time for school. Sometimes, I was too sleep-deprived to stomach another day of being the poor outcast. Other times, I'd be too hungry not to go.
Instead of a paralyzing fear, it's just a passing thought now.
I'm back to browsing the web, trying to figure out how this plan to become that fly on the wall will materialize. I still have no idea. I thought about switching majors and joining her in class, but I won't be able to catch up in time. She'll be in the high-level courses soon. Besides, even if I sat next to her during a lecture, what would that accomplish?
I don't want her to see me. I like sticking to the shadows, planning my move.
It's fun.
Right now, there's a lot of buzz about some security app and the young college kid leading the charge on its development. Could I do something like that? I don't know much, but it's not like I'm not willing to learn. I've never had anything to work seriously toward until now.
Investors are flocking to back the guy. I almost feel bad for him. If investors get in early enough, they'll be able to strongly influence his business decisions, for better or for worse. If he has a strong enough backbone, maybe he can mitigate that. Or maybe he doesn't need the money as much as they hope he does.
I guess the trick is finding a start-up that needs the cash, who would be willing to sacrifice company control in order to get a chance at future profits.
I don't expect much, but I find myself browsing start-ups, just to see what people are trying to develop, what I can maybe get my hands into. I have a shitload of savings. Not sure why. I don't know what to do with the money, honestly. I had to become a workaholic to support myself after my parents fucked off, but I make more than I can spend. I keep my expenses to a minimum—it's not like I'm out here trying to impress anyone. And girls are so easy, they don't need the latest fashions on me.
I pull my blanket closer around my shoulders against the cold.
It's difficult to come up with reasons to do things for myself. Sometimes, it's hard to fight off the feeling that I don't deserve a fucking thing.
But just as easily, that thought pisses me off. I'll take what I want, regardless of if I "deserve" it or not. What do I need to do to deserve shit, anyway?
What was I supposed to do as a kid?
"Huh…"
In all of the start-ups I couldn't care less about, one grabs my attention. They want to break into the med-tech field and provide an all-in-one solution for health monitoring with the aim of preventing disease. Seems like the market is saturated with that kind of stuff, though. I'm about to move on, but then the security app from earlier flashes in my mind. Security is a hot topic.
The med-tech start-up can piggyback on their success.
If I could invest enough money with the contingency that they add security features—or even lead with those features to start—maybe that could be worthwhile.
That's how I could be a fly on her wall.
My heart starts to race, and all at once, it's a little too stuffy under this blanket. The possibilities of where this could go, how I can maneuver this in my favor, how I can call the shots, turn this device into something that suits my needs, gain the access I require…
I find myself grinning at the screen.
And I'll make sure she's on board with it. I can join the team, have a say in marketing, make sure it appeals to her, that it's marketed toward her. And along the way, I'll make her tell me all her secrets, everything she does, feels, wants.
Well, not tell me . She'll tell the device, whatever it is. And I'll have direct access to it all, without risking a thing.
My laugh rings out into the quiet of my room, and I slam my fist against my open palm. Fuck yes, now we're getting somewhere.
I'm getting ahead of myself, but it's about fucking time something concrete has materialized for me. This, this is what I can put my effort into. I'll need to take some adult night classes on the side, switch my major, maybe. Whatever it takes to be a part of the team. I'll hold my savings above their head to make it happen. It's either I get everything I want, or the whole company collapses.
And it's Bree that I want.