Love on the Brain(96)

And messaged the STC guy? Yikes.

But who? Rocío? No. Not my little goth. Levi? Nah. He was in bed with me every night in the past weeks, and most of the time we weren’t even sleeping. Who else, then? And why would they contact STC posing as me? To make me look bad. But why? These kinds of machinations require a degree of committed hatred that someone like me could never inspire. I’m too boring.

I drum my fingers, wondering if I’m a lunatic, when something else occurs to me. Something much, much bigger: if someone logged into my computer, they wouldn’t just have access to my stupid social media, but to BLINK’s server, too.

“Holy shit.”

I navigate to the server repository. “No way.” I click on the folder where the documents pertaining to today’s demonstration are. “Impossible. I’m crazy. No one would—” How the hell did Levi access the logs? God, I hate engineers. They always type so quickly. “Was it—here? Where the hell did he click? Ah, yes—” I open the log for the file used for Guy’s brain stimulation. The one I finalized three days ago. The one that should be locked to anyone except for me.

It was modified last night. At 1:24 a.m. By me.

Except that last night I was tossing and turning in bed.

Okay. So it was modified by someone on this computer. “Who the fuck—”

“Are you okay?”

I startle so hard, I yelp and throw my mouse across the room. It misses Guy by a few inches.

“Oh my God.” I press my hand against my mouth. “I’m sorry—you scared me and I—” I laugh into my palm, high on relief, low-key thankful I didn’t shit my pants. It was touch and go for a second. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t trying to kill you for the second time in one day!”

He smiles, leaning against the doorframe. “Third time’s the charm.”

“Oh, God.” I press a hand against my forehead. My heart’s calming down, and I remember the last time I saw Guy. He didn’t look good. Because I gave him a seizure. “How are you?”

He gestures at himself with a self-deprecating smile. “Back to my hunky self. You don’t look too good, though.”

“I’m having an . . . interesting day. Guy, I want to apologize for what happened today. I take full responsibility for—”

“You shouldn’t.”

“I should.” I lift my hand. “I absolutely should. It looks like something weird is happening—I’ll show you. But that doesn’t matter. With your safety at stake I should have been more careful. I take full responsibility, and—”

“You shouldn’t,” he repeats, his tone a touch firmer. Something about it rubs me wrong. His eyes are usually a warm golden-brown, but tonight there’s an odd coldness about them.

I realize that I have no idea why he’s here. Well past eleven. In my office. After a day spent at the hospital, shouldn’t he be resting? I’m pretty sure he should be resting.

“Are you . . . did you forget something?” I stand to obstruct his view of my monitor, not quite knowing why. “It’s late.”

“Yeah.” He shrugs. I’m acutely conscious that he’s blocking the only exit. I’m also acutely conscious that I’m a raving lunatic. This is Guy. My friend. Levi’s friend. An astronaut. I just gave him a seizure, for fuck’s sake. Of course he looks weird.

“Are you . . . I was heading home. I’m done with . . . what I came for.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Want to leave together?”

He doesn’t move. “You said there was something weird you wanted to show me?” Why is he not smiling?

“No, I . . .” I wipe my palm against the side of my thigh. It’s gross, clammy. My grandmother’s ring catches on the seam. “I misspoke.”

“I don’t think you did.”

My heart skips several beats. Then it gallops, twenty times faster. “It doesn’t matter.” I need my stupid voice to shake less. “I gotta go. It’s late, and I’m technically off BLINK. I shouldn’t even be here—Boris will have me arrested.” I lean back. Turn off my computer, keeping my eyes on Guy the entire time. Then I make my way to the door. “Well, have a good night. Could you let me through? I can’t quite—”

“Bee.” He doesn’t move. His tone is slightly reproachful. “You’re making things complicated for me.”

I swallow. Audibly. “Why?”

“Because.”

“Because . . . what? Is it the seizure? I really didn’t mean to—”

“I think it would be hypocritical of me to get testy about that.” He sighs, and I’m instantly aware of how much larger than me he is. He’s nothing like Levi, but I’m as big as five bananas in a trench coat, which might be a . . . a problem?

“What’s going on?” I whisper. “Guy?”

“What have you told Levi?” he asks, his expression a mix of calm and irritation. A parent cleaning up after a child spilled a glass of milk.

“. . . Told Levi?”

“About the security footage. Did you talk to him on the phone after you emailed him?”

I freeze. “How do you know I emailed him?”

“Answer me, please.”