“I saw it with my own eyes,” I reply tightly. “You think I’d make that up?”
“No, it’s just that… she’s so…” Sol looks over J’s body.
My fingers coil into fists.
Sol had feelings for Cadence from the moment he met her. Dutch never addressed it—perhaps to keep the peace, but I am not so benevolent.
If Sol expresses interest in J, I will drag it out in the open and solve it with a fight if I have to. Then, when the matter is settled and it’s clear that Sol cannot have her, we will both continue being friends.
I’ve read many romance novels, and I hate love triangles the most.
“Tiny.” Sol frowns.
Tiny?
I’m confused, so it takes me a moment to tap back into the conversation.
Sol shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s just weird. Aren’t hackers usually… I don’t know… goth?”
My lips curl up.
I worried for nothing.
Amused, I compare how long my arm is to J’s. I am, quite literally, twice her size. “She is pretty small.”
“And she’s not even wearing glasses. All the hackers in the movies wear glasses.”
“Idiot,” J mumbles with her eyes closed. “What does that have to do with anything?”
Her voice is too low for Sol to hear, but I smile slightly.
Dutch’s voice rings with determination. “If she hacked the system, how soon can she do it again?”
“We can discuss our next steps later. First”—I adjust my arms around J’s waist— “she needs to see a doctor or she might die before she even starts on the algorithm.”
“I’m not dead yet,” J grumbles.
I lift my elbow and adjust her so she’s sitting more upright. “Do I need to call the hospital so they can have a team ready?”
“Now you care?”
“I wouldn’t say I care,” I answer honestly.
But maybe I do.
I want to see what happens when the watch turns red. So then, by the definition of the word, I am invested in her not dying unless I am the cause of it.
“I need water,” she croaks.
Dutch motions to the center console. “I’ve got bottles in here.”
Sol pops the storage open and produces a water bottle. I take it from him and offer it to J. She takes it and then dips into her cross-body bag for a clear packet of pills.
“You had medication?” I ask, surprised. Why didn’t she take it from the first moment she started experiencing symptoms in the classroom?
J puts the pill on her tongue but has trouble opening the bottle of water. Taking the bottle away from her, I unscrew the cap. She takes a big swig, and a few droplets dribble down her chin.
I easily swipe it away.
