Chapter Thirty Eight
A shudder rolls through me and once again, I glare at the offensive AC unit in the corner of the room.
The IT block is a far cry from my old bedroom, tightly enclosed with the curtains drawn, overly warm from the monitors that never rest and infused with the scent of an impending electrical fire. Good times.
Instead, I’m in an open plan space with rogue wires snaking across the floor and rows of desks barely holding up heavy, outdated computer systems. As well as being too cold, the chairs are hard and have no capacity to rock back with my fingers laced over my stomach.
I suppose I can kiss goodbye to my prime supervillain era, but that doesn’t mean I’ve gone to the light side completely.
Lines of code flicker across my screen, my fingers moving lazily over the keyboard as I half-listen to the guys behind me arguing over which energy drinks give them a better boost. They don’t seem to be coming to a conclusion, which is just fine with me.
As long as they’re too distracted to look over at my screen, they can start arguing over which professor sucks dick better for all I care.
The request came in early this morning, a quick job with a decent pay out. No one could blame me anyway. I may have awarded myself a fully paid scholarship, but my expenses are all on me. A new pair of Jordon’s for my collection, nightly takeouts, gifts for Meg. The important stuff.
With my screen angled towards the wall and a few clicks of the clunky mouse, I layer encrypted windows over one another, opening access points from a foreign IP address.
The job is adjusting some financial aid records and rerouting funds so that they mysteriously go bye-bye.
Basically, someone is about to go bust and someone else is about to get a lot richer.
Maybe I’m a cynic, but I don’t have a guilt gauge for these things.
We’re living in a world where chipped plastic cards have the power to make or break us, enslaved to a structure that rewards bad behavior and doesn’t give honest, hard workers a chance.
We bet on stock rates and pray on lottery tickets.
We lose the people we love because insurance companies won’t pay out.
And yet, it’s all just digits on a screen.
I may have been failed by an educational system who couldn’t support my dyslexia, but I do know my way around those digits.
Now, I line the pockets of others as well as my own, and no one can tell me I’m wrong.
Hacking is all I can do. It’s all that’s gotten me this far, sitting in this freezing cold IT room waiting for my girl to message me good morning.
Speaking of which, I pick up my phone and stare at the image of us on my home screen.
Meg has been suspiciously quiet this morning, but it’s my understanding that yesterday’s game did not go well.
The terrible weather was against them from the start and as much as I wanted to be there to support her, I was relieved when Meg insisted I sit that one out.
I had to actually catch up on some coursework anyway.
This degree isn’t going to fulfill itself.
“Dude, stop staring at your phone. She’ll message when she’s ready,” Tyler pipes up from across the room, earning a snort from James beside him.
“Leave the guy alone. He’s in love.” The pair of them make kissy faces and imitate their best googly eyes, earning a soft chuckle from me.
“In love? No,” I shoot back easily, setting the phone down but not quite pushing it out of reach.
“Obsessed. Do try to keep up.” They both laugh, shaking their heads, and I let the noise wash over me.
I’m under no illusion of my unhealthy infatuation with Meg, and I’m not ashamed.
I give what I’m comfortable giving without any expectations that she should reciprocate.
That’s why, when she does, it feels all the sweeter.
Finishing up my job, I slip out of the servers without leaving any trace.
My phone buzzes a moment later and I lunge for it, only slightly disappointed that it’s a notification from my off-shore account which just became marginally more attractive.
Not the beauty I was hoping for, but no one can be mad at a pay day.
Rolling my shoulders, I shift in the rigid chair, deciding I’ve earned myself a coffee.
However, the shadow that steps into the doorframe appears to disagree.
Everest sets his sight on me, and he glides through the room as if no one else exists.
His aura collides with the peaceful atmosphere, halting conversations and gaining more than just the professor’s attention.
Although, no one says a word against the out-of-place captain.
They just let him eat up the carpet with long, powerful strides.
He stops only to drag out the chair beside me and drop himself into it heavily.
“Well, well. If it isn’t Hollowbrook’s finest tyrant.
To what do I owe the pleasure?” I lean back, loosely folding my arms across my chest. Everest looks like shit.
There’s a faint bruise shadowing his tight jaw, dark circles around green eyes which are otherwise laser focused.
He’s wearing his practice jersey and baggy shorts, although there’s no sign of physical exertion.
“You’re going to help me,” he states flatly. A snort escapes me, my features lifting with amusement.
“I can see you’re a novice at this. At least say please and phrase it as a question so I feel like I have a say in whatever it is.” I lean back further, propping my crossed ankles up on his thigh. He shoves me off immediately. Someone is not in the mood for games today. Or any day really.
“We need to do something about Meg,” Everest almost growls now. This kills my smile. There is no ‘we’, and I’m rather fond of Meg as she is. However, my curiosity wins out and I decide to play along for a little while, only to find out what his angle is.
“I’m going to make an educated guess that the game didn’t go well,” I tilt my head slightly.
A beat of surprise flickers in Everest’s green eyes and yeah, to be honest, I’m also surprised Meg hasn’t told me all about the match yet but I’m not getting in my head about it.
We’re fine, totally fine, more than fine, and I don’t need to be in her pocket every second of every day.
Although I did check the outside surveillance to make sure she got home safe.
And her webcam once to make sure she was sleeping safe and sound.
And then lay awake all night waiting for my phone to light up with a notification, but again. Everything. Is. Fine.
Sighing, Everest’s posture stiffens enough to appear painful. Flexing his hands as if he doesn’t know what to do with them, he fights against the tic in his jaw.
“I fucked up on the pitch. I acted rashly and…” He falters, and that strikes me more than his intrusion in here.
Of everything I’ve found out about Everest Calloway online, he isn’t one to hesitate.
He barely has a thought that isn’t installed by his parents, but when he does, he’s stubbornly resolute.
Not the mess of a man sitting before me who appears to be dragging each word up from a place of confusion and swallowing hard before forcing the rest of his sentence out. “I’m not proud of what happened.”
My mouth turns down slightly. Aside from the faint buzz of machinery, the rest of the room is silent, the icy chill sweeping through having nothing to do with the air-con anymore.
I study him closely, waiting for the arrogance to break through. For a back handed comment that implies whatever happened, it was either Meg’s fault or well deserved. But none of that comes.
“In privileged brat, I do believe that was an apology,” I hum lightly. “Although, I’m not the one you should be apologizing to. So why are you really here?”
Everest’s stare doesn’t waver, his green eyes remaining locked on mine in a way that would make most men cower.
I recognize it for what it is. He’s trying to strip me back in the same way I’m doing to him.
Good luck. I’ve been trying to psychoanalyze myself most of my life, and I’m starting to think there really is just nothing there to see.
Huffing through his nose, Everest finally breaks eye contact, noticing that he has the attention of everyone in the room staring at his back.
“Walk with me,” he commands and stands, leading the way before I’ve agreed to follow.
James and Tyler cut me a warning glance but I merely shrug and follow suit, pocketing my phone and striding out behind Everest. It was time I stretched my legs anyway.
Everest is lingering by the exit to the IT block, just out of reach by the dulled light streaming through the open door.
The weather is far more enjoyable than yesterday, but there’s still the weight of oppression pressing down from heavy clouds.
I pass him and he falls into step as we breach the fresh outside air.
Most students are in their classes, leaving just the rogue wanderer to witness our leisurely stroll together.
Of those few, none dare to look too long.
He turns towards a narrow path leading away from the quad and as we slip between tall buildings, I realize where we’re heading. Directly to the stadium.
“You might think you know who I am,” Everest starts, facing forward, “but there’s so much you don’t know. That no one knows.”
“Humor me,” I reply lightly, though my attention has sharpened in a way I couldn’t switch off if I tried. Out of the corner of my eye, I take in every little detail. The flexing of his fingers, the uncomfortable straightness of his spine.