I’m like a boat. My brothers have jumped out and swum to shore. Meanwhile, the tide is taking me farther and farther out. There’s a hole too, one I know will grow until I’m sinking and drowning. No one will know. No one will hear me cry out.
I’ll be all alone.
I’m so lost in my own depressing thoughts that I don’t realize Neo has moved until he clears his throat. “Wylder?”
I blink up at him. He’s standing over me, sipping coffee.
When did that arrive? I must not have noticed. There I go again. Unaware of my surroundings. What is it about Neo that has me dropping my guard?
He eyes the little mountains of paper I’ve been sorting through. “This system is archaic.”
I grunt. “Any computer can be hacked. You should know that.”
“True, but do you normally do this on your own?”
“Who else is going to do it?”
Neo’s lips thin, but he doesn’t say anything else, just holds out another coffee. “Here.”
I take it from him silently. He picks up the small paper bag and holds that out too. “Drink and eat something.”
I take the bag apprehensively. When I checked the cart earlier, I didn’t bother to look past the coffee order. I peer inside to find a chocolate croissant. Terrible for my health. Delicious in all the wrong ways.
Like Neo.
I shake that thought off.
“Eat it,” he says, and I stare at him. He’s far too close. In more ways than one.
I pull it out and take a bite, my lashes fluttering.
“Yeah, you like that,” he says, his eyes flickering. “You fucking like it.”
I swallow and lick my lips. “I’m eating it to shut you up.”
His mouth twitches. “Yeah, all right.”
Then he turns back to the computer, noisily slurping on his blended drink while I slowly drink mine.
The chocolate lingers on my tongue the same way his touch lingers on my skin.
Yes, not at all good for my health. Not in the slightest.
6
WYLDER
Neo stretches, arching back. I pretend not to notice how his tight shirt rides up with the movement—the one with that ridiculous slogan. A sliver of taut skin appears just below the cotton, and I snap my eyes forward. My fingers tighten on my pen. He’s doing this to taunt me. I know he is.
Having Neo here has been great for the scholarship committee. Terrible for my actual productivity. Over the past two hours, I’ve gotten some things done—tasks for The Firm have been assigned—but despite that, his constant wiggling, sighing, and proximity have distracted me more than not.
He’s leaning closer to me now, his foot pressed against mine, his elbow hanging off the arm of my chair. He seems not to realize how close he is, or if he does, he doesn’t care.
He hasn’t looked my way since he finished his coffee.
I, however, can’t help but glance over as often as I can. A distraction I can’t have. That I don’t want.
Is that true?
