1. 1 #2
“Then what’s up with the questions?” Elias put his hands loosely on his hips like he did after he got back from a run.
He ran every morning, and despite telling me that I needed to work on my cardio, he didn’t push me. Of course, I had to stay fit to ease my mind, now that I feared infected people would be chasing me everywhere I went, but I preferred to stay inside on the treadmill.
Bloom was fiddling with his hands now, gun still in the case. “I’m just making sure everything is by the book, that’s all.”
“Cassie, we better leave before they find out we’ve snuck in,” he said, handing me my gun case. “We can’t have them call the President on us.” He turned back to the agent. “You’re fucking weird, by the way.”
Elias walked ahead of me, nearly running to the door, but held it open for me. He pushed it shut and spoke as soon as it clicked. “I am so confused. Did something happen when I left the room?”
“No, not really,” I said. “He did try to tell me that as my instructor, you should have corrected the direction my foot was pointing.”
“Who even cares about that?” Elias threw his hands up. “The control you have over the gun in your hand is far more important.”
The elevator was only a floor away, and got to us almost immediately after we called it. Elias stepped in and leaned against the handrail.
“Should I have hit him?” Elias asked. “Maybe he has a screw loose.”
“He could be a legacy kid or something,” I suggested. “He just seemed too comfortable with how young he is. Entitled, somehow.”
“Agent Bloom, you said?” he asked.
I nodded.
“I’ll find out who he is.” Elias pulled out his phone and started typing away.
I put my hand on his arm, my voice rushed. “Don’t get him in trouble or anything.”
He gave me a side-eye. “I’m just asking Parsons to look into him, relax.”
Jordan Parsons was an amiable man, and a diligent worker.
He’d been assigned to Elias as some sort of tactical liaison, supporting him with whatever he needed when he was in the field.
While I hadn’t talked to him much in an official capacity, Elias and I had gotten dinner with him and his husband, Clay, soon after we began to work with him.
Elias had been on a few short missions, and Jordan had gone above and beyond for him, so looking into a random employee unofficially was no big deal.
The elevator dinged once again, and we entered the lobby, Elias with his head still in his phone.
“I haven’t had the chance to tell you what I learned at work today,” I said.
His eyes snapped up, the message to Jordan abandoned. “What did you learn?”
“We are getting a new virus to work with,” I said. “I’m looking forward to working on something different, but I don’t love the implication that there may be something new discovered out there.”
“Hopefully, it’s just an older variant, or something they’ve dug up from the Baker and Pryor basement.
” His voice was low, trying not to speak too loudly.
Nothing we were saying was specific enough to cause trouble, but there were a few people lingering in the lobby.
It was after five at that point, and almost everyone had cleared out of the building. Except Agent Bloom, of course.
I drove us today, in my forcibly upgraded car.
The vehicle stipend I received per my contract was generous, and Elias had convinced me to buy a new one.
He had the more practical vehicles, so I was to drive the flashy, comfortable one.
Before I met him, I had driven a fifteen-year-old Toyota Camry for years, and it served me well.
My parents had helped me buy it while I was in undergrad, and I never felt the need to upgrade.
Elias’s philosophy was pretty simple and difficult to dispute: Life was short, spend the money. I would have preferred to get a new Camry, if anything, but he argued that a Lexus was just a luxury Toyota, and that I deserved it. . . or something. I don’t know, but I bought the damn car.
And I loved it.
We shared so much of our lives, it didn’t really feel like either of our cars were strictly our own. He drove the Lexus and I drove the Land Rover, it just depended on the day and circumstance. So, while it was my car, I had a suspicion that Elias was the one who wanted it.
I tossed him the key fob, not like he needed it.
Every new car had to be keyless entry and remote start, but he got the message.
It was his turn to drive. I hated the traffic, and I hated choosing where we were going when there were fifty options.
So, I got in the passenger seat and my problems were solved.
Elias finished typing before he got in the car, shoving his phone into his pocket. Closing the door with a soft thud, he turned to me, smirking. “Does this mean I get to pick where we eat?”
It was always Indian food. I didn’t know what they put in it, to make Elias crave it, but that’s where we always ended up. “Yes, even if it’s The Bombay Kitchen,” I said, my voice flat.
He feigned surprise. “How can you say that with such disdain?”
My phone connected to the car when he started it, and I had to turn down the volume from our morning jam session.
Elias’s tastes varied widely, so he didn’t care what I played in the car, for the most part.
It was normally pretty violent sounding, and I felt like it got me in the mood to start the day, and he nodded along whether he knew it or not.
He did protest, sometimes. I listened to a lot of objectively terrible music.
“I’m not speaking with such disdain about your favorite restaurant,” I clarified, rolling my eyes. “I promise.”
“You don’t like it, Cassie, be honest,” he urged.
“I think it’s fine, I just don’t need to eat as much yellow dal as you do.”
“Well, you’ll be happy to know I made reservations elsewhere.” He pulled out of the parking lot and turned onto the main road.
I laughed. “Why did you ask me if I wanted to go out to eat if you already knew we’d be going?”
“People in relationships need to make decisions together,” he said, grabbing my hand. It had been sitting defenseless in the center console, and he scooped it up in his. “If you said no, then we wouldn’t go.”
“There isn’t a world where I would decline an invitation to dinner on a Friday night.”
“I know.” He smiled. “We’re going to Jay’s, by the way.”
I gasped, sitting up and turning to face him in the car. “Oh my god, I love Jay’s.” Like he didn’t know.
Jay’s was a steakhouse with the most incredible bread.
I was so simple, really, I just needed a few baskets of their bread to take home and I would eat that for days.
Being the first place that we went together after we were cleared, it held a lot of sentimental value, too.
It was weird to think that our first official date took place after we’d already slept together and saved the world, but our lives weren’t exactly average.
Elias was insistent that sitting on the floor of his bathroom with my eyes closed while he showered didn’t count as a date, and was determined to take me out to dinner.
As I expected, the traffic was a nightmare, and I kept calm by focusing on Elias’s jaw, the stubble there, his hands and arms and chest, and the twitch of his muscles as he shifted the position of his grip on the steering wheel.
His shirt might have been a half size too small near his shoulders, but the material was forgiving, flexing with him as he moved.
He’d been in meetings all day, forced to dress the part of a government official.
Ditching the blazer hours ago, he was left in a plain white button up and a pair of black dress slacks.
His eyes flitted over to me, in between checking side mirrors and changing lanes, and I was caught admiring him. “I look pretty cool driving this car, don’t I?” He sighed. “I wish it had a standard transmission. The paddle shifters aren’t as satisfying.”
I snorted, never expecting what came out of his mouth. “Why don’t you buy one? You’ve said it yourself, spend the money.”
“We only have three spots in the garage,” he said. “Also, I feel like three cars for one person is a bit excessive.”
“Elias, you are excessive. Your whole life is excessive.” Not only did he transform a spare bedroom into a locked armory, but he spent an obscene amount of money on gadgets, watches, and his little tactical outfits that got destroyed after one wear.
If I seemed the slightest bit interested in something, he was all but throwing his wallet in my face, begging to buy it for me.
“No, I’m not,” he murmured. “I’m reasonable.”
“Remind me, how much did you spend at the barber the other day?” He wore his hair a tad longer now, and used a little pomade to keep his hair out of his eyes for the majority of the day, but it inevitably fell into his face.
It sat somewhere between wavy and curly, and I was immensely jealous. He had a great head of hair.
“There’s that signature Cassie crabbiness again,” he said, squeezing my hand. “You’d better quit picking on me.”
“I’m not picking on you, Eli,” I said, my free hand coming to rest on his upper arm.
“I love that you take care of yourself.” Love.
That was a word we danced around. We’d been inseparable for seven months, but failed to use the word between us.
I was pretty sure we loved each other, but I wasn’t going to be the vulnerable one and say it first. He was the romantic, not me.
Besides, he showed me every day how much he cared about me.
Even today, driving for me, making reservations at my favorite place. That was enough.