Chapter 9
CALEB
I’m in the middle of lecturing myself on not making things weird with Malia by staring at her when she comes out of my room and tests all my strength. She is drowning in my sweats and one of my Houston Pumas hoodies. But it’s irresistible. I can’t not stare.
I swallow, dismissing visions of snuggling together on my couch while we play. Of sliding my hand across her cheek, feeling her silky hair between my fingers…
“Over here,” I say, gesturing toward the bedroom I’ve turned into a game room. She passes by me as she walks into the room, and I subconsciously lean into her. She pauses, turning to look at me for a moment and then smirking.
Busted.
I try to clear my head of any more distracting thoughts.
Asking Malia to be my girlfriend for the wedding was a big enough favor.
I don’t need to keep overstepping boundaries with her.
Almost kissing her at the dinner, pressing my face into the bare skin of her shoulder, ogling her wearing my clothes …
There’s a large, overstuffed sectional in one corner of the room, and Malia comes in and sits right in the corner of the couch and smiles at the room.
There’s a large TV mounted in the opposite corner from the couch, with a basic black TV stand underneath that holds my Xbox and Playstation.
On the wall next to it is a desk, a computer, and three screens.
It hits me that Ivy never saw this room.
In the short time we dated, if we spent time at one of our apartments, it was Ivy’s. We hung out a few times at the guesthouse at Chad’s house while Carlie lived there. It feels so significant that Malia is here.
And that she’s smiling.
“I love it,” she says. She grabs a blanket from one end of the couch and pulls it over her lap. “My parents make fun of me for already being so acclimated to Texas after growing up in Idaho. They make fun of me every time I tell them I’m cold and it’s sixty degrees.”
I laugh. It sounds too full of air. “What do you think of figuring out who that mole is?” I turn and grab a couple controllers, handing her one.
Malia’s going to have to play one of my Shadow Heroes characters since we’re logged in on my account, but since we’re mostly going to be doing surveillance, it won’t be a big deal.
She pats the cushion next to her. “Let’s get this guy.”
I drop down and pat her knee. “Could be a girl.”
“Touché.”
We’re quiet as I log on and we both survey who’s on the game.
It’s a comfortable silence, though, no different from when we’re logged on together for missions.
We don’t always have to fill the quiet. I snicker at the “Happy Valentine’s Day” banner one of our teammates has hung up in the safehouse.
There’s also several heart-shaped boxes of chocolate on the dining room table.
“Felicity,” Malia and I say together, and then laugh.
She’s a mom in her thirties who has two toddlers at home and tells us all the time that she shouldn’t be staying up late to play—and then does anyway.
She’s also clearly the mother of our whole group.
We make our way over to the table, find the boxes with our names on them, and eat a couple chocolates so Felicity will know we appreciated her thoughtfulness.
“You know what I thought about earlier while you were watching that guy in the diner?” Malia asks as our characters take a seat on a bench across from the British Embassy. “What if the mole is an NPC? It could be a game obstacle, rather than another player tasked with thwarting our mission.”
I glance over at her and nod. “I could see that. It would explain why it’s been so difficult for any of us to figure it out. We’ve only been watching other players.”
We both go quiet as someone leaves the embassy. “Tail them, just to see?” Malia asks.
“Yeah. You take this one, though. I’ll wait for another one.”
“Good idea.”
She nudges me with her shoulder as she gets up from the bench and follows the character in a dark pantsuit down the street. The character of mine she’s using is a short guy that’s a little rat-like.
“This is fun. Playing together.” She leaves her shoulder resting against mine.
“Like we do all the time?” I tease, bumping her back. I don’t move my shoulder either.
“I meant in the same place,” she says with an embarrassed laugh. “Oh, headsets. In case one of our marks talks to someone?”
“Oh, right.” I hop up and grab a couple from the TV stand. When I hand Malia hers, she drops it in her lap, and so I do too. We only need them just in case, and I don’t want to interrupt the cozy vibe we have.
But she’s right about something. This is fun. “We should do it more.” It comes out like a question. “Play together in the same place.”
She looks over at me and nods enthusiastically. “We should.” She holds my gaze, her expression bright. I really like her smile. It makes her whole face sparkle.
The timer on the oven beeps in the kitchen, ending the moment. I pull my gaze reluctantly from her and shift to get the pizza. “Watch my screen for me,” I say. “I’ll be right back.”
“You got it.”
I have to make two trips into the game room. One with the pizza and plates, and another trip with napkins and drinks for us both.
“So, a Range Rover?” I say once we’ve both taken a couple bites of pizza.
She gives a dry chuckle and shakes her head.
“I should stop trying to be so ostentatious, trying to prove something to them when they’re never going to change their minds.
I mean, it’s like they think Vire is some struggling startup.
I guess I kind of get that my parents don’t understand—all they know is farming—but Skye frustrates me.
It’s part of a billion-dollar tech corporation, and I run the—I mean, I’m in charge of stuff.
I’m high up. You know? Why does she always have to worry just because she’s a big sister? ”
Malia’s flustered, and she blows out a breath. I set a hand on her knee again. I get exactly how exasperating it is to have your family constantly concerned about your well-being just because they don’t understand something about your life.
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Malia,” I reassure her.
“Yeah, I know. Sorry.” She leans her head on my shoulder, and for a second I lean mine on top of hers. She relaxes.
“When Ivy and I were dating, Carlie was terrified of how fast we were moving. And she turned out to be right, but I hated that she didn’t trust me to figure stuff out by myself.
She gets it about my job, but sometimes she still treats me like the little brother even though I’m the one that’s older. ”
“It’s probably a sister thing.” Malia straightens away from me and leans forward, squinting at the screen. The room isn’t huge, and we’re not that far away from it, so I’m guessing this is a concentration squint as she follows the embassy worker. “Skye is the same way.”
“Hence the fancy condo and flashy car.”
“And regular expensive vacations.” She shrugs. “I need to get over it. I can’t control what they think.”
“Easier said than done.”
“Amen.”
We sit in silence again for a few minutes, but conversation pushes at me.
Not because I want to fill the silence, but because I want to know Malia.
“Tell me about the romcoms,” I say. I settle my character on a rooftop to watch my mark down below with a set of binoculars.
“I looked up that movie you were talking about—the MFEO one, Sleepless in Seattle—and I’m not sure how it’s going to help me win dates and fall in love. Increased stalking?”
Malia turns to me. “You watched Sleepless in Seattle?” she says, her voice awed.
I nod slowly. “You said I needed to rectify my lack of ’90s and 2000s romcoms.”
A smile starts growing on her lips. Which distracts me for a moment before I swing my gaze back to the rest of her face. “So you just went and watched Sleepless in Seattle,” she says.
“Yes …” I draw out the word. I’m not sure why she’s acting like the fact that I watched a movie she suggested is heroic or something.
“Well, it worked,” she says quietly.
“Huh?”
She waves a hand. “Nothing. Did you like it?”
I shrug. “It was fine. But it’s old, Malia. How do you even know about it?”
She maneuvers her character, and I glance at her screen to see that she’s shifting out of view because her mark is walking toward her. “I’ve always been a night owl,” she says.
“Typical gamer,” I agree with a short laugh.
“Mmm-hmm.” She nods. “But I didn’t like the silence in our house, so I’d turn on movies, and one night You’ve Got Mail ended up in my watch list. And I loved it.
These two people falling in love over email.
Like, people meet online all the time now—” She gestures between the two of us.
“—but back then it was, like, quaint and cute. I don’t know.
Something about it pulled me in. So I ended up finding everything I could with Meg Ryan, and then it just grew to all the classic romcoms.”
“And you think these romcoms will help me with love?” I raise an eyebrow, but I’m already tucking away the title of this one in my brain, putting it in my mental queue.
Malia turns to me, her expression knowing. “Trust me.”
We strike out on both the characters we follow, so we find more and strike out more. We compare notes we have on the mission, seeing if we can find something the other missed. We talk about our families and jobs, finish the pizza, and sometimes sit quietly.
It’s more fun than I’ve ever had on a date with someone, and this isn’t even a real date. And every signal Malia’s giving me tells me she feels the same.
“So,” I say, breaking the silence we’ve been sitting in for several minutes.
Malia is leaning against my shoulder again, head up against my arm.
It’s comfortable and not awkward at all.
“I think we should go back to that restaurant with the great desserts.” She doesn’t say anything right away, and I go on. “Maybe for dinner. On a real date…”
She still doesn’t answer. I turn to look at her, worrying I’ve messed things up …
to see that she’s sleeping. Her hands are still on her controller and they’re resting in her lap.
This is a super-comfy couch. I don’t blame her for drifting off.
It’s late, and we’ve been talking and playing a long time.
It’s actually flattering that she felt comfortable enough with me to fall asleep.
I gently lift her controller from her with the arm she’s not leaning against and take her character back to the safehouse for her.
Then I use my legs to pull my ottoman closer to rest my legs on top of it.
I carefully shift Malia so I can put my arm around her, pulling her against my chest. She sighs but doesn’t resist.
“I should go home,” she murmurs in a sleep-drunk voice.
I smile. “Nah,” I say softly.
She sighs again and doesn’t say anything more. I settle in, taking my character on a walk around the embassy, looking for familiar faces.
Not how I pictured my night ending up when I asked Malia to go to the wedding with me—it’s so much better.