Chapter Fourteen

Dean

“You must be Dean,” Amber’s mom said after she’d opened the front door. Her smile was genuine, but her eyes were sharp as they checked me head to toe.

Suddenly I felt my jeans and tee—the one I’d picked specifically for Amber—weren’t clean enough.

“Hi, Mrs. Henderson,” I said, extending my hand toward her. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

She took my hand, shook it, and dragged me inside. “Alice,” she said. “And it’s nice to meet you, too. I’ve heard you’re almost as good a hacker as my daughter.”

“Almost,” I said, holding up my thumb and forefinger close together.

“Why is there a boy in my house?” A man’s voice sounded from behind Amber’s mom, and I stiffened as he came to stand next to her. He was one foot taller than her, with dark hair and sharper eyes. Fit. Intimidating.

“Hello, sir. Dean Winters.” I reached out to shake his hand, and the scowl instantly shifted off his face to one of humor.

He took my hand. “Nice to meet you, Sir Dean Winters. Where were you knighted?”

I laughed, dropping his hand. “Manchester,” I said, stating the only other city in the UK I knew of besides London.

He raised his eyebrows, glancing at Amber’s mom. “Quick. I like this one much better.”

I kept my smile in place but felt my gut twist at the mention of this one. Thoughts of Brandon triggered my angrier self, so I took a steadying breath to calm down. It’s not like I hadn’t dated anyone before, or that Amber and I were even dating—but he’d somehow wrecked her, and I hated him for it.

From the look on Amber’s mom’s face—the way she was sizing me up, threatening me, and inviting me into her home all at the same time—she hated him, too.

“Where are you kids heading tonight?” she asked.

I rubbed my palms together, scanning the area for Amber.

“She’s upstairs.”

“TimeWarp,” I said, my voice lowered. “It’s this retro arcade place that’s set up next to Food Truck Lane.”

Amber’s dad furrowed his brow. “Amber will hate that.”

My stomach dropped.

Amber’s mom smacked his chest. He burst out laughing.

“She’ll love that,” she assured me, and I breathed normally again. “Forgive him,” she continued. “Amber is his only child, only girl, only everything.”

“That’s right,” he said, pointing a finger at me. “And I would kill for her.”

I swallowed hard.

“Like total Texas Chainsaw on Friday the Thirteenth in your worst Freddy Krueger nightmares kill for her.”

My gaze widened as I darted focus between the two of them.

Humor seems like the key to winning them over.

“I pegged you for a Michael Myers on a Night of the Living Dead kind of killer,” I said.

Stone silence.

Maybe I only thought I was funny.

Laughter rumbled from them both a few breaths later. Damn, they’d keep me on my toes.

Her dad pulled her mom in close, kissing her on the forehead. “I like him.”

“Me, too,” Amber’s mom said. “Amber!” she shouted, causing Amber’s dad to jump.

“Coming!” Amber yelled right back from somewhere upstairs. A few seconds later she was bounding down them, her long legs sheathed in tight light denim, tucked into a pair of purple Converse, and a shirt to match. The deep V of the shirt showed off the smooth skin of her chest, and I immediately snapped my eyes up to hers.

Friends.

Friends can think their friends are sexy.

Right?

I silenced the battle in myself, fastening what I hoped was a natural grin as she skidded to a stop before me.

“Where we going?” she asked by way of greeting.

I looked down at her, shaking my head. “Told you it’s a surprise.”

She rolled her eyes, but I could see the spark behind them. She was pumped for tonight. For spending time with me and not even a computer in sight.

Win.

She headed toward the front door, waving to her parents over her shoulder.

“Have her back by two a.m.,” her dad said, and I did a double take.

“Have fun,” Amber’s mom said.

I nodded and turned to catch up with Amber. Opening the passenger side door of my car for her, I arched a brow. “Is your curfew really two a.m.?”

She laughed. “No. It’s midnight.”

“Noted.”

With her hand on the car to step inside, she paused, her eyes widening at my shirt.

“Do you like it?” I asked, glancing down. It was solid black except for some dark green writing situated on the lower right-hand corner. I’d ordered the thing a week ago after I was sure I’d figured out who her celebrity crush was. Now was the true test.

“I am burdened with glorious purpose,” she read the line, emphasizing the word glorious just the way Loki did in what I guessed was her favorite movie—her Loki-Emblem headphones were a big enough hint. A spark crackled in her eyes as she drew them up to mine. “You’re a Loki fan?”

I grinned. “You are.”

“Yes, that’s true.” She eyed me.

I pointed to the words. “This is your guy.”

Her pink lips popped open before she laughed. “You bought a Loki shirt just to prove that you’d finally figured out who my celeb was?”

I shrugged. “Figured it couldn’t hurt.”

“What?”

“Now every time you look at me tonight, you’ll think of me—hot genius—and then Loki.”

“Placing you above him,” she said, biting down on another laugh.

“Exactly.” I snapped my fingers before motioning to the car.

She sank inside, the perfect smile still shaping those lips. I shut the door and rounded the car, sitting behind the wheel. “You ready for this?”

She smacked her palms on her thighs. “I don’t even know what we’re doing. How could I possibly know if I’m ready?”

I grinned at the light behind her smile, the excitement that had been too rare on her face lately.

“You’ll see soon enough,” I teased, and pulled out of her driveway.

“So what is it about the villain that hooks you?” I asked, trying to take my mind off the nervous energy rushing in my blood.

“He’s…” I spared her a glance as she paused, trying not to laugh at the swoony look that glazed her eyes. I wouldn’t…couldn’t be jealous of a fictional character. “The God of Mischief.”

“That’s it?”

“No,” she said, shifting in her seat to face me while I continued to navigate the roads. “He’s got this incredible backstory. Heart wrenching and complex and he can’t help but crave justice for the wrongs of his past.” She sighed. “Plus, the mischief? The chaos? The way he can’t help but love it? That is something I can totally relate to.”

“I’ll give you that,” I said, turning down another street. “Sometimes I’m calmest when in the middle of a chaotic hack. When I know I’m on the brink of cracking a lock or on the verge of being caught.”

“Exactly!” She snapped her fingers. “God, you say that to most people and they look at you like you’re from another planet.”

“Well,” I said, sparing her a quick glance. “We’re all prone to a little madness.” I reached across the car and fingered the green and black bracelet she was never without. “Is that why you always wear this?” I asked, drawing my hand back to the wheel. “Reminds you of Loki?”

“That,” she said. “And the fact that it says Prove Them Wrong.” She flipped the bracelet to the reverse side so I could see the writing. “Loki is constantly proving people wrong. People who assume too quickly or judge too harshly. So, that’s why I love him,” she said, settling back into her seat. “That, and his stunning blue eyes don’t hurt.”

I chuckled, wondering if she’d noticed the color of mine was eerily similar.

“No way!” Amber squealed a few minutes later.

I parked in a free space in TimeWarp’s lot, not bothering to appreciate the eighties-style neon sign that shot across the top of the building or the floor-to-ceiling glass windows that showed off the hundreds of classic arcade games inside. I was too busy memorizing her open-mouth smile as she took it in. The pink in her cheeks, the rise and fall of her chest.

“I’ve always wanted to come here!”

“Why haven’t you?” I asked, killing the ignition and racing around to open her door.

She took my offered hand, the warmth of her fingers sliding over mine like silk. “Brandon never wanted to go,” she said, then blinked a few times, cringing like she hadn’t meant to say that. She took a deep breath, smiling again. “He said only ten-year-olds would like it.”

“How dare he,” I snapped. “I’m eleven.” I winked at her before leading us through the doors.

Instantly, we were transported to a time before cell phones and laptops and endless access to gaming. Eighties music pumped through large speakers hung in every corner of the building—background noise to the chirps, whirs, and tinkles of the rows and rows of arcade games lining the walls and aisles. The smell of fried food, sugary drinks, and metal filled the air—change machines trilling out coins even if all you had was a card to buy them with.

Amber’s gasp was like a pleasant electric shock to my chest. Her hand—still in mine—squeezed slightly as she bounced on her heels. “How do we choose where to start?” She looked up at me, her eyes wide like the choice was as overwhelming as a college application.

Fuck, that was adorable.

I scanned the massive room, the place packed with people ranging in age from the aforementioned ten to some dudes with beards that would rival Dumbledore’s. I spotted a clear path to a Pac-Man machine in the far left corner. “Let’s start there,” I said. “Then make our way around?”

“Perfect!” She dropped my hand, heading straight to a change machine. She reached for her back pocket, but I stopped her before she could pull out her wallet. She glared at me as I put my own card in the machine, getting us enough change to play all damn night if we wanted to.

“Dean,” she chided. “I can pay for my own.”

I furrowed my brow, shoving the quarters into my pockets. “I know,” I said, giving her a handful. “But this is my treat.”

“I thought this wasn’t a date.” She popped her hip, the determined and confident pose drawing a smirk across my lips.

“I thought that wasn’t even on the table.” I stepped closer to her, unable to resist the blush on her cheeks.

“It’s not.” Her voice came out a whisper as she looked up at me.

“Then it’s not,” I said, despite the fact that it sure as hell felt like she wanted it to be one.

You’re in charge, Amber. You lead me and I’ll fall in line.

I’d learned enough from spending my life helping take care of Tessa—my baby sister had been the one to teach me about patience, perception, and understanding when it came to girls before I’d turned twelve. Though I really wished she would’ve taught me about reading a girl’s mind, because I would’ve loved to know what Amber was thinking right this moment.

Something softened in Amber’s gaze. “Okay then,” she said. “You ready to lose?”

“Ha!” I laughed. “Which game do you think you could possibly beat me at?”

She glanced around the area. “All of them.”

“You’re on.” I retook her hand, trying like hell to ignore how great it felt, or how she didn’t take it back until we reached the first game.

Three hours, countless games, and a shit-ton of quarters later, we’d lost count of who was in the lead.

“I’m totally winning,” she said as I guided her out of the arcade and into the cool night air.

“What?” I gaped at her. “No way. I was up by five wins the last time we took a tally.”

“Please,” she said, rolling her eyes. There was no annoyance in her tone. In fact, I hadn’t heard or seen her this happy in months. Even when she was locked in—which was normally her bliss—this…tonight…she was different.

Freer. Wild. Close to the girl I’d first met all those years ago.

“Omigod it smells so good out here.” She moaned the closer we got to where all the food trucks were lined up, and I both loved and hated how much that sound drove me crazy.

Careful, I warned myself. The way my entire being was tuned in to her…fuck, it was like I was in—

No. I couldn’t be.

Friends. In the past month we’d taken our friendship from cordial to matching bracelet territory. This was a totally normal reaction to a friendship this awesome.

Amber grabbed my hand as we funneled into the crowd of people storming all the trucks. She weaved us in and out until she set her sights on a French-themed truck that served crepes.

“Nutella-stuffed crepes?” I asked after she ordered one for herself.

“If you tell me you don’t like Nutella, Dean, we’re no longer friends.” She stepped to the side so I could order.

“Make that two, please,” I said to the cashier, smirking at Amber.

“Oh thank God,” she said, true relief shaping her face. “I was worried.”

I took the paper cone-wrapped concoctions and ushered us to a table in the center of the market-like place and sat. “Wow,” I said, smiling as I handed her the food. “You were really worried about losing my friendship.”

Her eyes widened. “I was not.”

“Oh, you can’t deny it. I saw it all over your face.”

She laughed. “You can’t read me that well.”

I nodded enthusiastically. “Can,” I said before taking a massive bite of the crepe.

She mimicked me, her eyes rolling back in her head as she chewed. “Best. Night. Ever,” she said after swallowing.

The center of my chest pulsed and puffed and warmed at the happiness in her eyes.

I did that. I put that there.

I mentally high-fived myself as we continued to eat in a more-than-comfortable silence. For the briefest of moments, I had been worried that without our gear and our challenges and our hacks that we wouldn’t know what to talk about. With the way we’d been chatting nonstop tonight, it was stupid of me to worry. Amber and I were connected beyond our passion for computers, and I felt ridiculous for how relieved that fact made me.

“Thank you,” she said after we’d tossed our empty wrappers in the garbage, electing to take a short walk around the place. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this until you gave it to me.” She stopped short, halting her steps near the corner of the arcade building. “God, that sounded so pathetic.”

“No, it didn’t,” I said, turning to face where she’d taken up a lean against the brick building, the pink strands of hair illuminated by the neon sign far above her. The way she seemed content to stay there was like she didn’t want the night to end.

I don’t, either.

“It’s just…” She sighed, tucking her hands behind her back. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had fun like this.”

I eyed her. “You mean with a guy.”

She parted her lips to deny it but stopped herself. “You really do see more than anyone else, huh?”

“I’m good at unlocking what people are trying to hide.” I smiled at her, stepping closer than the friend boundary probably permitted, but I couldn’t help it. She was the sun and I was helplessly sucked into her orbit.

“Nightlocker,” she said, my hacker name rolling off her tongue and rippling all the way down my spine. “Makes sense.”

“It’s easier with you,” I said, shifting so one arm leaned over her shoulder, the position in front of her blocking the neon sign from glaring in her eyes.

“How so?” She gazed up at me, never once retreating from my nearness, almost like she craved it as much as I did.

I shrugged. “There is something about you that…resonates in me?” I chuckled. “Now I sound pathetic.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I mean it, though,” I said. “I’ve never had a friend like you before. We… It’s like we’re…”

“The same?” she finished for me.

“Exactly. It makes it easier to understand you.”

“I get that,” she said. “But you have an unfair advantage.”

“What is that?”

“You don’t have anything to hide.” She sighed. “No walls that need breaking down.”

I stared into her eyes, the smile dropping off my face.

What did he do to you?

The words were there, but I couldn’t choke them out. She would tell me if she wanted me to know. The last thing I wanted to do was push her away, to break the bond we’d formed by stepping where I wasn’t wanted.

“You don’t have to hide from me, you know,” I finally managed to say.

Something swirled in her eyes, a churning sort of hope and want and…trust?

“I want to be the one you talk to,” I said. “Not just about coding or hacks or tech. I want us to be close. I crave this…” I motioned to the small space between us, noting how her chest rose and fell like it had when we’d first entered the arcade, but now for a totally different reason.

Being this close to her was the sweetest torture, so much it was intoxicating. Whirling in my brain like I’d had a few drinks.

“I do, too,” she whispered, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. “And it scares the hell out of me.”

“Don’t let it,” I said, reaching my free hand to smooth it over her cheek, down her neck. Chills erupted where my fingers trailed, but she never lost my gaze. Never pushed me away or drew me closer. Slowly, I lowered my head, inching closer to her lips, knowing the night wasn’t supposed to go this way but unable to stop it. The draw she had on me, the heat in my heart calling for more of her smiles, more of her sweet scent, more of her voice…it urged me forward.

She closed her eyes, sighing as she tilted her head upward. A clear invitation.

A feather-light brush of my lips over hers, and she tensed under my touch, jerking her head to the side.

Ice-cold water doused my insides, my chest caving in on itself.

She’s told you all along she doesn’t want this.

That hadn’t made me immune to what I thought was a mutual current between us.

“I’m sorry,” I said, quickly straightening to give her some room.

But then I looked at her—really looked at her. My stomach plummeted.

“Amber?” I said, gripping her shoulders. “You’re trembling.” I eyed her up and down, taking note of the way her fists were clenched, her fingers shaking. Slow tears rolled down the cheeks that were warm with my breath seconds ago. “What is it?” I asked, her eyes closed, blocking me from getting through to her. “Fuck, Amber, I’m so sorry,” I said, panic building in me. “I didn’t mean to cross a line. I swear.” I’d honestly thought she was on the same page, wanting the kiss, inviting it. I never believed I could read her so wrong, that I could cause this reaction.

She sucked in a stuttered breath, finally opening her eyes.

Apologetic. Hurt. Scared.

She flung her arms around my middle, almost barreling into me despite the small amount of space between us. I instantly enveloped her, stroking her back, silently begging her shaking to stop as she sobbed into my chest.