Walker grabs my mouse, and I stop him.
“Dude, stop messing with my set-up.”
“If you want me to stop messing with your set-up,youhave to use your set-up.”
I glare, and he leans against my desk like he’s going to be there for a while. “Come on. We have orchestra tickets to buy.”
I decide it’s not worth fighting with the one person I’ve got on my team right now, so I pull up the information on the concert tonight. It looks like it’s some hometown sensation playing after intermission, so it’s nearly sold out. I grab two tickets, one in the middle of the main floor and a second one on a balcony, not sure if sitting together would be better.
Walker’s already left to rifle through my closet, tossing his selections on my bed. “Do any of these still fit?”
“The pants are okay.”
“But the shirts?”
“Tight across the shoulders.”
He spins back to me, my favorite pink dress shirt in his hands. “Same.”
“Don’t say what I think you’re going to say.”
“We’re going shopping.”
I groan, hating that the rest of my afternoon is going to be split between shopping and visiting Jansen, with no chance to check on GoldenRod69, my new personal itch that I just can’t scratch.
As soon as I find that bastard, he’s the first name I’m handing off to Officer Reed. The deeper I’ve dug, the more groups I’ve found him in. He’s spread himself so thin he’s practically translucent, making him look like a dabbler when he’s anything but. And I want him caught in a net that can make him pay for his wide-reaching interest.
If it wasn’t for my obsession, he’d probably get away with it forever. He’s no programmer, but he’s learned just enough to keep him safe from the casual observer. I almost didn’t notice him. But he’s been there, ‘enjoying’ the terrible videos I keep finding, for years.
Fuck being a knight. I’m going assassin mode on this guy.
But not tonight. Tonight, I’m going to put on fancy shit and see my girl. And if we get some luck, maybe even speak to her.
Touch her.
Kiss her.
God.
I miss her so much.
Chapter 75
Clara
In my imagination, going to an orchestra concert requires a full ballgown and a tiara. So when Mary comes in and pulls out an upscale sun-dress looking thing, I’m flabbergasted. But with no experience with classical music besides the painful screeching that chased me through my middle school halls on the way to the bathroom, I slip on the dress, put on some simple makeup, and force my hair into a loose French braid, hoping for classy.
I’m not sure I achieved it, but if no one is splurging for a hair stylist or makeup artist, they’re going to get what they get.
Smith and Falk push Trips and me into the usual SUV, while the rest of the family gets into an SUV with a single guard to drive them.
I wonder if the security guards get tickets to the event, too.
Trips immediately wraps an arm around me, and I settle against him, finding him in only a dress shirt and pants, a similar casual-dressy look to him. After a second, I slip my hand under his shirt, his skin hot under my palm. Surprise flickers across his features, but I’m sick of not being able to communicate.
Forcing myself to not stare at him, I focus on the passing neighborhood, and carefully write ‘hi,’ across his stomach.
I don’t get any response, so after a while, I try it again.
