Chapter Eleven

Geekronym: ROM

Translation: Read-only memory

Definition: A class of electronic storage medium. Data stored in ROM cannot be modified, or can be modified only slowly or with difficulty.

“Charles. Charles.”

Charlie blinked and tore her gaze away from Daniel’s bare foot. “What?”

“Pay attention. New round, and I am about to dominate. I’ve got twenty in this pot. Equivalent value bets, please, cash or clothing accepted.”

“Oh. Right.” After her argument with Daniel about the Romulan commander, she hadn’t been able to concentrate. She’d actually missed one of the questions he’d lobbed at her. “Daniel, are you sure you want to keep going?”

“Give up? Never. I can’t get them all wrong. I watched this stuff for hours with you when we were kids.” He took off his shirt and threw it onto the table on top of Gideon’s twenty. “I’m in.”

“Uh…” After one glance at the golden skin of Daniel’s back, she averted her eyes, her heart stuttering in her chest. Get away. She had to get away. “Deal me out of this one. I’ve got to…um…” She scuttled down the hallway into her bedroom and collapsed into the chair behind her desk. While the sight of Daniel’s bare foot had mesmerized her, his chest shocked her out of her fog of obliviousness.

Stupid stupid stupid. How could she have been so stupid? She’d worked with her algorithm for so long that she’d started thinking of Stage Two as nothing more than a data story. A simple collection of statistics that described a person’s relationship expectations. She’d been so freaked out over basic communication that she’d forgotten one of the key indicators for Stage Two status—the desire for extended physical intimacy.

Stage Twos wanted sex.

Not the uncomplicated one-night, no-strings hook-ups of a Stage One. No, they were emotionally invested, at least for the few months the romance lasted.

What made her think she could pull this off? Gideon always told her, Leave the lying to the experts, Charles, because you truly suck at it. She pressed her hands to her heated chest. Oh lord. The first time Daniel made a move, she’d give herself away for sure.

Maybe she should tell him everything. He remembered how much AGS meant to her, he’d said so tonight. He might understand her reasons. Even help pull off the charade.

But how would he feel about her once he’d found out she’d only agreed to this date because of a bet? After his last girlfriend played him, he might not be exactly…neutral about the concept. Look how he still blamed Spock for lying to the Romulan commander. Job and duty weren’t enough to excuse that kind of betrayal, not in Daniel’s book.

Her eyes stung and she pressed her fingers against her eyelids. You’ve lost a chance you never knew you wanted.

But if she couldn’t have his friendship, at least she could have AGS. That was the important thing, right?

So she couldn’t afford to get distracted or mope about things that weren’t possible. Fake Stage Two or not, she had to make it at least look real, and that didn’t include hiding away in her techno-cave when her pretend match was just down the hallway.

Shirtless.

Lord.

…

“Charles,” Gideon called, “get your tush back here or we’re going on without you. Charles? Hmmmph.” He faced Daniel across the mound of booty on the table. “Guess it’s you and me for this one.”

“Let’s give her a couple more minutes.”

“Please. Star Trek trivia lingers for no man. Or woman.” He tossed a twenty onto the coffee table. “Final round, big boy. Show me what you’ve got.”

“You’ve already won all my cash, my shoes, socks, and shirt. Can’t we call the game in your favor?”

Gideon flattened his hand on his chest. “Abandon the field before my enemies are totally crushed? Never. Let’s make it interesting, though. All of my winnings,” he pushed his pile of cash and clothing into the center of the table, “against your pants.”

“You think I’m stupid enough to fall for that? The walk back to my car will be ventilated enough without my shirt and shoes.”

“Oh fine. I’ll give you a lifeline. You can even go first. Is that incentive enough?”

Christ. Charlie and her friends took their geekdom seriously. This game was so cutthroat it should come with pirate sound effects. While he never backed down from a challenge, if he expected to hold his own and hang with her—and he did—he needed to seriously up his firepower.

Out of the corner of his eye, Daniel caught Charlie lurking in the shadow of the hallway. Surrender was not an option, but maybe it was time to warp the rules in his favor.

“You’re on.”

“Place your bet, Charles.”

“No. I’m…I’m out.”

Daniel scooted forward until he sat on the edge of the cushion and stared into Gideon’s eyes. Let’s see who blinks first. “Okay. Original series. What was the first episode—”

“‘The Man Trap’.” Gideon reached for the pot, but Daniel held up his hand.

“Not so fast. The first episode that Charlie ever saw.”

Gideon’s mouth dropped open. “That’s not a fair question.”

“Why not? It was one of the first three series. That was your only stipulation.”

“This game is about the shows. The characters, the stories, or the actors. Not the viewers.”

“Then you should have said so.”

“I’m saying so now.”

“Too late. The question’s on the table.”

“He is correct, Gideon.” Toshiko didn’t bother to look up from her tablet. “Anything not explicitly excluded—”

“Is allowed. I know. But—”

“Give it up, man. Boss says you’ve got to answer.” Daniel leaned in. “Unless you’re folding. You telling me I know more about Charlie than you do?”

Gideon split his scowl equally between him and Charlie. “Fine. I’ll say… ‘The Trouble with Tribbles.’ That’s everyone’s gateway drug.”

“Wrong.” Daniel leaned back and rested his arms along the back of the couch. “‘The Devil in the Dark.’ The one with the alien that looked like a giant pile of dog vomit.”

“Silicon-based life,” Charlie murmured, and drifted over to sit on the end of the couch, inside the circle of his arm, although she didn’t touch him.

Daniel grinned at her. “You got that the first time Spock picked up one of those silver eggs. You fell in love with the science way before you fell in love with the stories or the characters.”

Gideon ripped off his glasses and threw them onto the table. “How can I not know that?”

“Perhaps because all your conversations, even those concerning Star Trek, center around yourself.” Toshiko barely glanced up from her tablet screen. “Consequently, you never asked.”

Daniel smirked at him. “Guess even you can’t get them all right.”

“Fine. I missed. But you have to get one right, too, or the round goes on.” He narrowed his eyes in a squint worthy of Dr. Evil.

“Gideon.” Charlie’s voice held a warning. “Don’t be a dick.”

Daniel turned toward her. “Is he vindictive as well as competitive?”

“You’ve no idea. Remember that TNG episode where Data locks down the Enterprise computer with a password the length of I-5? He’s asked that one before.”

He draped his arm across her shoulders and gave her a brief sideways hug. Gah. Heat. Skin. Retreat. “I’ll bet you got it right anyway.”

Her eyes widened and her smile wobbled a little. “Absolutely.”

“For your information…” Gideon settled his glasses back onto his nose. “I am never a dick unless it’s specifically requested. So. Back at you. DS9. Name three of the station’s runabouts.”

Christ. Gideon’s memory for minutiae was going to get him arrested for indecent exposure. “You told me I could have a lifeline.”

He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Fine. Charles—”

“Lindsay.” Daniel beckoned her over from the kitchen where she’d just removed another tray of brownies from the oven. “I’m counting on you.”

“Me? I’m no good at this.” She set the pan on a cooling rack and crept into the living room, oven mitts still on her hands.

“Come on. It’s DS9. Your favorite. What do you say?”

Lindsay bit her lip and stared at her feet. Ah, shit. Well, it had been a calculated risk. He reached for his belt buckle.

“Rubicon, Orinoco, and Rio Grande.”

Gideon gaped at her soft words. “How…?”

“They were all named for rivers.” She shrugged. “Geography was my favorite subject in school.”

Charlie jumped up and hugged her roommate, oven mitts and all. Daniel laughed and scooped the pot away from Gideon.

“And that, I believe, is game.”

…

When Daniel stood and stretched, displaying an alarming expanse of muscular back, Charlie dropped her gaze and found herself face-to-butt with Daniel’s perfect rear end. Not helping. Thank God he hadn’t lost his pants in that last round or she might have spontaneously combusted. She ducked her head but not before she caught Lindsay giving her a go-for-it look worthy of Gideon.

“I’m so glad you stopped by, Daniel.” Lindsay shook his hand. “This is the first time I’ve ever helped anyone win a game.”

He grinned at her. “You didn’t just help. You won. So technically,” he gestured to the scatter of money and clothing on the table, “all this belongs to you. But I’ll throw myself on your mercy. Can I reclaim my clothes? It’s not that warm outside.”

“Of course, but the winnings aren’t really mine.” She tucked her hands behind her back. “Please. You take them.”

“Nope. You got the answer. You win the prize.”

He shrugged into his shirt and Charlie could breathe again.

“Next time,” Gideon said, collecting the plate of brownie crumbs, “you won’t be so lucky.”

“Next time, I’ll be prepared.” He slipped on his shoes and socks. “Gideon, Lindsay. A pleasure.”

Charlie stood. “I’ll walk you downstairs.”

She led him down the stairs to the front door. “Thanks for being willing to lose so Lin could have a chance to win.”

He tilted his head with the hint of a smile. “She knew the answer. I didn’t.”

“Still. You could have asked for me as a lifeline, but you picked her.”

“Maybe I’m just really bad at strategy.”

She smiled at him. “Maybe. But I doubt it.” He wasn’t just nice. He was kind. She’d never have imagined that. “You boosted her confidence. I may finally get her to take a chance at online gaming now.”

She intended to say good night to him inside the vestibule, but he opened the door and gestured her onto the porch. The evening was still warm, so the breeze didn’t account for the goose bumps prickling her arms.

“You know, I haven’t had that much fun in a long time. Thanks.”

“Why thank me? You’re the one who invited me out.”

He chuckled. “Check your memory banks, Doctor, and you’ll find it was your suggestion.”

“Oh.” Right. The stupid wager. “I guess it was.”

“Look, I am really sorry about the scene at the restaurant. You know I didn’t do that to embarrass you, right?”

“I know.”

“I was trying to play all the angles, and I got it wrong.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I…ah…have something else for you. But I didn’t want to spring it on you at dinner or in front of your friends.”

“Daniel, you don’t have to compensate for my neuroses.”

“I want to show you that I can be taught. See?” He gestured to the darkened porch, the empty street. “No audience. Just you and me.” He pulled a tiny box, a quarter of the size of her cell phone, out of his pocket. “The silver’s a little flashy, maybe, but otherwise, you can’t ask for lower profile.”

She put her hands behind her and stepped back. “I can’t. You’ve—”

“Hey. Have a heart. I’ll get a complex if you reject another one of my peace offerings.”

She sighed and took the little clamshell box off his open palm. She opened it and something tumbled out into her hand. Her breath caught and her glance flew to Daniel’s face. He half grinned and shrugged one shoulder.

“Where did you get it?” she whispered, stroking the tiny pewter Enterprise charm. “This is just like the one I had when we were kids until you suckered me out of it with that rigged bet about Babylon 5.”

“That’s where I got it.”

Charlie’s heart turned into a helium balloon about to float out of her chest. “You’ve kept it? And now you’re giving it to me?”

“I figured I owed you something significant as an apology if I expected you to see me again. What do you think?” He hooked his little finger with hers. “Will this do the trick?”

Lord, he looked so hopeful, so sincere. Neither a trace of that first night’s surly aggression nor any ghost of betrayals past. No. The only betrayal is yours. Charlie raised her chin. Now. Tell him now. He doesn’t deserve to be part of a faux relationship. Not even for the sake of AGS.

She took a deep breath. “Daniel, I—”

He stroked her cheek with one big square hand and she forgot what she was saying. She forgot the square root of pi. She forgot her name. “Yes?”

“Um…” His face was so close. She could count the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. She could smell his cologne, woodsy and wild. Closer. His breath a whisper against her skin. And then the soft press of his lips on hers. The balloon in her chest threatened to lift her right off the ground.

Zing. Lord, this was what Gideon was talking about.

He pulled back. “So. What are your plans tomorrow night?”

Not a zing. Couldn’t have been a zing. Think. Think. She tried to rouse herself from her pheromone-induced trance. She knew how to form words. Sentences even, but speaking seemed beyond her current operating specifications. Where was a keyboard when she needed one? “Um…I…shower, I guess. Have some sushi. Hit some porn sites.” Her fist clenched around the little box, and it crumpled in her hand. She darted a glance at Daniel, looming over her in the night. By the gleam in his eye, he’d heard her. Damndamndamn.

“You watch porn?” He didn’t laugh outright, but the mirth was there in the rumble of his voice.

She forced herself to lift her chin, trying to channel her tough-girl kickboxing mindset despite her desire to retreat into the shadows.

“Only for the statistics.” Her voice only squeaked on the last word. She’d count that as a win.

“Think you can put the stats on hold long enough to go out with me tomorrow night?”

He kissed her eyebrow and ignited another zing, like electricity arcing down her spine. If that happened from his lips on her eyebrow, what would happen if he took advantage of some of the other skin she had on display?

She sucked in a breath. Don’t go there. “Yes. I mean no. I mean, I have a…a thing.”

“Another kickboxing class?”

“No. It’s kind of a group thing.” Meredith had talked her into one last meeting of the user group.

“I’m willing to tag along if I wouldn’t be intruding.” His thumb traced a line of fire along her jaw. “After all, I’ve survived my first trivia night. I can handle anything now.”

Despite what a hideous idea it was to allow him within ten parsecs of anyone in the user group, Charlie was surprised to realize she was sorry to disappoint him. “If I don’t show up at Hana K’s—”

His thumb stilled. “Hana K’s? Wait, is this that dating club of Philip’s?” His shoulders tensed and he dropped his hand. Instantly, her face cooled, the steady breeze lifting her hair until she probably looked like a Wookiee in a wind tunnel. “You’re in that?”

“I’m not. No. It’s not a… I mean, I know some of the people. I promised to be there.”

He relaxed into a smile, complete with double-barreled dimples. “I’d better go along, then. You’ll need the protection, because if you wear an outfit like that, you’re going to find yourself in the club whether you want to be or not.”

Charlie’s heart-balloon deflated, returning her to earth with a thump.

The shirt. The flirt. The bet. Boob-stupidity. Apparently, it didn’t wear off.

Even now, he didn’t see her. He was responding to the UI that Gideon and Lindsay had created for her. To VR-Charlie. None of this is real. Not the relationship and not you.

She had to remember that. Because in a month, she’d have to learn how to live without him all over again.