All the same results. I put my phone down, sneezing, and curse Si for making his concoction. It's ruining my ability to think.
What are the chances that StatMan and Silas both had the same juvenile joke about an unusual dish? It's possible. But... I pull up Silas's past travel schedule, comparing it with StatMan's comments about traveling and hating being on the road. Every single time that StatMan was traveling?
Silas was on the road, flying for the Havoc.
I screw my face up and make a frustrated noise.
Is... is Silas StatMan? The idea is so crazy that I feelinsane just having it. But they kind of talk alike. Especially when they talk dirty.
Oh god. Yoga Girl, Pretty Girl… Am I going crazy?
I toss my phone aside and make a face. The most mature thing to do would be to confront him about it.
I'd feel so embarrassed if they were actually one and the same. Vulnerable, violated. But mostly I'd need to know why. Why would Silas hide behind a screen? He proved that he was perfectly capable of seducing me in real life. So why would he need to pretend that he didn't know me?
I stand up and fling my door open. Somehow in the confusion, I forgot that Silas had filled the apartment with the stench of stewing hot sauce. Blargh. I pinch my shirt and put it over my nose, venturing out to the living room. Silas is on the couch, watching game tape on the tv and slurping his awful-smelling concoction.
I come around the couch and fold my arms as I level him with a stare. He's sprawled on the couch in gray sweatpants and a faded Havoc t-shirt, bare feet propped on the coffee table. Six foot eight of casual comfort, his dirty blond hair messy like he's been running his hands through it. Those blue-gray eyes flick up to mine, and I watch his expression shift from relaxed to wary in a heartbeat.
He raises the tv remote and pauses the game.
"Are you coming to ask me to make you some ramen?" he jokes.
My heart speeds up as I shake my head, pulling my shirt off my face. "I have a weird question to ask. You didn't pose as someone else and talk to me on Twinge, did you?"
Silas stills, a flush rising in his cheeks. "Err. Maybe?"
My jaw drops. "Yes or no?"
He bobs his head, a guilty expression on his face. "I did."
I can't believe him. "And you were just... never going tomention that to me? You didn't think I'd want to know that you're StatMan?"
He rubs his hand over the back of his neck. "I was kind of hoping it would never come up."
My eyes bug out. "Silas! Do you know what StatMan was to me?"
Silas shakes his head once, careful, like he already knows he's not going to like the answer. "No."
"It wasn't just sex," I say. "It wasn't even mostly sex."
He opens his mouth, then closes it, giving me a small nod to continue.
"Our conversation was an escape. It was the one place I didn't think ahead," I say. "I didn't run scenarios or calculate outcomes. I didn't ask myself what it would cost me to want something." My chest tightens, but my voice stays steady. "And you turned it into a lie."
“It’s not a lie. I want you," he says immediately. "I always have."
"That's not the same thing," I reply.
He frowns and twists up his face. "How?"
"Because wanting me privately doesn't carry consequences," I say. "Wanting me in real life does."
He shifts closer, then stops himself, like he's afraid of making the wrong move. "I never wanted to put you at risk."
"I know, but that doesn't make it better. What if someone from the team found out?”
"You know I'd protect you," he says.
