Chapter 22
chapter
twenty-two
SHAY
Over the weekend, I made a mental list of everything with which Void—Calder—might have access. He was right—my password was shit. I used it for everything. Which meant he could have access to…well, everything.
Notes.
Photos.
Location.
So then I made a list of ways I could use that to mess with him. Like as I left my apartment to go to work on Monday morning, I wrote a new note.
Pro: Tall.
Con: Bad kisser.
Almost instantly, I received a message from Calder in the app.
What are you doing?
I bit my lower lip, grinning to myself as a knock sounded on the door.
“Coming,” I called out.
Eames and Olly were waiting in the hallway to carpool. Olly wore her trademark X Files tee—a distressed, oversized gray shirt that read The Truth Is Out There. Eames had tamed some of his curly hair with Y2K butterfly clips.
“Thanks,” I said as Olly handed me a steaming tea from Tropes. I took a sip of the earthy, floral tea as we walked down to the car, my thoughts drifting to Calder.
I oddly wasn’t angry. Maybe I should be angry. Mostly, I thought it was only fair I got even. He knew everything about me on our date. He still knew everything. Secrets I hadn’t told anyone.
I slid into the middle of the back seat, so I had a clear view of my friends. Eames rode shotgun while Olly drove.
“Spill,” Olly said, catching my eyes in the mirror.
I took another sip. “I would have thought Lithie would’ve given you the rundown.”
We didn’t have boundaries in this friend group. When one person knew something, everyone did.
Eames turned around, gripping the back of the seat to face me. “Obvi she did, but she didn’t say why you didn’t fuck.”
“Did he have bad breath?” Olly asked, turning left toward the winding road that would take us past rows and rows of trees that would bloom in spring, and to the big red-brick building that sat just beneath the mountain.
“Was he the kind of person who doesn’t like butter on their popcorn?” Eames asked.
“Did he want to call you mommy?” Olly countered.
“None of that!” I said as Olly turned into the office.
It was a flurry outside, windy and snowy and hard to see. Snowflakes were like cherry blossom petals blowing in the wind.
The elevator doors slammed shut on our snowy, wet faces. I swiped snow off my bag before it melted and got it wet.
“Okay,” Olly said, turning to me. “If he doesn’t have a secret mommy fetish, and he wants butter on his popcorn, then what?”
“Is that really the bar?” I asked as the doors opened to our floor. “If he likes snacks a certain way, then I have to fuck him?”
“No…” Olly said as we walked to our offices. “But you’re not really giving us anything to go on.” Olly shrugged into her seat, throwing the bag she’d used since college haphazardly to the floor. Eames lifted himself atop my desk.
“I do have work,” I said.
“We know.” He booped the top of my nose. “You’re answering all the very important questions of the universe. But wait—” He broke off like he’d just had a brilliant epiphany. “I know, answer one now, for your best friends.”
I made myself busy with the clutter on my desk. Pushing around paper clips and pens.
How to tell them that the date was great, just like the other date.
That he was who Lithie affectionately referred to as Grave Boy.
My stalker.
“We just didn’t vibe,” I said.
It felt wrong coming out of my mouth.
We did vibe. Twice, actually, as two different people. We more than vibed. It was like when we were together the air between us magnetized.
But I knew if I told them the truth, they would freak out and probably confiscate my phone.
Because I would have freaked out, too, if my friends came to me and said, Hey, by the way, the guy I went on a date with is also stalking me—and maybe breaking into my home to do the dishes—but I have no plans of making that stop.
In fact, now that I knew, I planned to mess with him.
“Do we need to match you with some other dates?” Olly asked.
I was about to tell her no, that I wouldn’t go on any other dates. Then I paused. That could be a great way to mess with him.
“Maybe,” I said.
“Maybe?” Eames gasped like an Old Hollywood starlet. “This can’t be how your Rumspringa into thottage ends. You’re supposed to, you know, be a thot for a little—”
“Am I interrupting?” Jenna asked.
All three of us turned to find our boss. She leaned in the doorway, one arm propped.
“No, of course not,” I said.
Eames hopped off my desk as Jenna came into the room.
“The paper we submitted to IAS was given an oral slot,” she said.
The annual IAS—or International Astronomy Society—conference was held every year in a different location, usually outside of the US. It was long running, rotating, and invitation heavy. This year, it would be in California.
An oral slot meant that the paper we’d submitted was given a talk.
Which was great, but also not something I needed to know.
“Do I need to update models?” I asked, not sure why she was telling me this. It was great they wanted her to present, but it didn’t have anything to do with me.
“I’d like you to present.” At what must have been utter confusion on my face, she continued. “You can easily present this. You did most of the modeling, Shay.” She unfolded her arms. “This is much closer to your field than mine.”
It was closer to my area. But still. “It’s only a week away.”
“I know it’s late notice, but the university will of course cover everything.”
“We can share a room!” Olly said.
I wasn’t particularly fond of large gatherings of academics.
I loved science. When I was young, I fell in love with the scientific method, the nobility of it.
The idea that we had to try to prove ourselves wrong first if we wanted to be right.
Before I became one, I viewed scientists as this paragon of humanity, apart from the ego that ruined so much.
Then I became one.
“Okay.” I sighed. “I’ll go.”
She gave me a half smile. “It’s a pretty good conference, for such a sigh.”
I couldn’t avoid presentations when getting my PhD, but I did my best to avoid them now. When I was in undergrad, I was given a prestigious research grant that was awarded to only a few people in the entire school.
I was so excited.
I got to work on my own area (under supervision) and then at the end of the year, I would present it with everyone else in the nation.
Except, I got sick. I left my boss high and dry. That was the moment I decided I wouldn’t apply for anything, because I couldn’t guarantee I could finish.
Like, it took me twice as long as usual to finish my undergrad. I had to take a break to heal before my master’s. I was pretty sure I would never get a PhD.
So it wasn’t that I didn’t want the Astro, or to present at IAS—I did.
It was just…complicated.
After agreeing to not only room with Olly but make sure the university put us on the same flight, I got to work. It was uneventful. Slow. My mind drifted again, and I tried to think of more and more ways to mess with Calder.
At the end of the day, I agreed to let my friends pick out a date for Friday.
The next day, on Tuesday, I took a photo of myself right out of the shower, all the important parts of me either blurred by steam or out of focus—still plenty risqué. I instantly got a message from Calder.
Are you free this week?
I ignored him.
And then on late Wednesday morning, I was given a gift when I had to run home from work to grab something I forgot.
As I parked, I saw a distinct person walking into my building.
Wavy brown-black hair.
Tall.
I waited, watching Calder disappear into my building. My eyes traveled up to the fifth floor, where a shadow moved in my apartment.
Sure, I could have confronted him. But where was the fun in that?