“Oh, well, you’re safe then,” I say, making him smile even bigger. I know I shouldn’t ask him questions, because the less I know, the better, but my curiosity is too great for me to keep quiet. “Why do you have all this security? I mean, why do you need all this?”
He lets out a surprised breath and then runs a hand through his hair. I swear he almost looks nervous, and my mind immediately goes to porn and then I feel like a dumbass. Don’t all guys store massive amounts of porn on their computers that they don’t want anyone to find?
“I’m sorry, forget I asked,” I quickly say.
“You know what I do, right?” he asks.
“I know you’re a hacker for your family’s Bratva.”
He seems surprised that I just blurted that out, so I hurry up and add, “Don’t worry. I won’t say anything to anyone.”
“Glad to hear that,” he says. “Well, as a hacker, I can get into just about anywhere, so I know how easy it is, and for me to leave my own computer vulnerable is something that would drive me crazy, not just because it would be professionally really damnembarrassing for a hacker to get hacked, but because I know the importance of keeping certain things safely hidden.”
I don’t press and ask what those certain things are, even though I really want to. I keep it safe and ask, “Have you always been good at this kind of stuff?”
“Yeah, my dad is too.” He grins and says, “I used to change all our grades in high school so we all passed our classes.”
“God, I wish I’d known you back then. Calculus was the bane of my existence.”
“I would’ve definitely changed your grade, Van,” he says. “I’d offer to do it now, but something tells me your grades are excellent as is.” His grey eyes meet mine briefly before he says, “I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t have given me the time of day in high school.”
Before I can say anything, he starts walking me through what has to be for him the most boring computer lesson he’s ever given anyone. He teaches me how to check my settings for updates, how to properly label and save things, and then he teaches me the basic no-nos of the internet and how to easily spot fake pop-ups. It’s the most informative hour of my life.
“Why the hell didn’t they teach me this in high school?” I ask when we’re done. “That’s so much more useful than calculus.”
“I’ve never understood that. We’re stuck having to learn shit we’ll never need to use, but they leave out all the really important stuff. I mean, filing taxes? Come on, who the hell knows how to do that?”
“You file taxes?” I ask with a laugh.
“I pay someone to do it,” he clarifies. “It’d be pretty suspicious if I didn’t file. I’m not saying it’s accurate, but it’s filed and everything looks perfect on paper.”
“Do you ever worry about getting caught?”
The grin he gives me is infectious. It’s a sweet smile. It doesn’t screamcocky asshole,even though I know he has everyright to be a little smug about his skills. That’s not how Niki is, though. He’s more likely to dismantle an infrastructure and then quietly grin to himself about it in the corner, not needing the outside recognition and praise for actually doing it.
“I don’t worry about getting caught because I know I have the power to destroy any case they ever try to make against me. I can wipe out their entire system if I need to. I’m also very careful to never leave a trail.”
With his face turned to mine, there’s only a few inches separating us, and it’s impossible to not notice how beautiful his eyes are. They look exactly like the sky right before it rains and when you add in the dark, long lashes, it’s mesmerizing and hard to look away from.
“You have really beautiful eyes,” I blurt out before I can think better of it.
He lets out a surprised laugh while my cheeks heat up. I quickly look away, feeling like an idiot. Niki is the kind of guy who could have any girl he wanted. He’d laugh if he knew my sexual experience consists of a couple of truly terrible make-out sessions with my high school boyfriend. Both times were strictly over the clothes and involved kisses that felt way too slobbery and left me wishing my curfew would hit so I’d have a good excuse to leave.
Something tells me Niki would be very good at kissing. I have a feeling he’s very good at a lot of things, and that thought leaves me feeling even more embarrassed and out of my element.
“Thank you,” he finally says. “I think your eyes are beautiful, too, Van.”
My blush deepens at his words, and when I turn my head, I can’t resist asking, “Why do you call me that? No one else has ever called me Van but you.”
He gives me that sweet smile of his and says, “That’s kind of the point.” His eyes stay locked on mine for a few seconds before he adds, “Van.”
I can feel myself grinning like an idiot, but I can’t seem to stop it. There’s no way to contain how I feel right now and keep a nonchalant attitude about it. I’ve never been good at games like that, and I didn’t suddenly learn how to do it since Niki walked into my room.
There’s still only a few inches separating us, and I desperately want him to close the distance and press his gorgeous mouth to mine, but he doesn’t, and I’m too nervous to do it myself. After a few seconds, he sighs and puts his focus back on his laptop, shutting it down quickly and then slipping it back into the messenger bag at his feet. The buttery-soft leather molds to the machine inside, keeping it safe as he pulls the strap across his chest again.
He stands and says, “I should get going. I know you need to get up early.”
“Oh okay,” I say when what I really want to do is fling my arms around him and beg him to stay the night. I don’t think I could handle hearing him say no, so I step aside and then walk with him to my door. “Let me make sure it’s clear.”
