“Sure,” I scowl. “I won’t tell you. As long as you do the same.”
Because we both know the three of us have been pulled in. I’m willing to bet none of us planned on Ava coming in and kicking our asses, but here we are. Fuckin’ enthralled with her. It’s almost laughable if it wasn’t so fucking scary.
We level our gazes on each other and an understanding passes between us. It doesn’t make us friends, but something else. Having the same goal brings people together like we’re sharing a pint at the pub.
“Noted,” he comments. “Was that all?”
“Oh, one more thing.” I grin. “You can play cat and mouse with her ex, but if you fuck her, that doesn’t make her off limits for the two of us.”
Dagen raises his brow. “Who says I was staking a claim?”
“Good,” I say, calling his bluff. “Then you won’t mind if I do.”
Dagen is usually great about hiding his reactions, but I don’t miss the small tensing of his shoulders he tries his best to conceal. He shrugs to hide it, but I don’t miss much. Like I said, I’m good at my job.
“It’s Ava’s choice. I don’t care what you do with her,” he says, his tone carefully level.
Yeah. Apparently, we’re both gonna keep lying to ourselves then. Wonder how old Otto_Bot is gonna handle this?
Since we’re all bloody idiots.
Thirty
Ava
My phone dings with a notification bright and early. When I click the message, I smile, realizing it’s from Otto_Bot, and open it up.
Hey. I’m sending over the files for you to look them over. Let me know if you have any questions.
My fingers fly over the digital keyboard.
Will do. Thanks.
The little thinking bubbles pop up after he reads my reply and I watch them, curious what else he’s going to say. We’ve been doing this for a few weeks now, and though I don’t have a face to match the person, I can still somehow imagine his fingers dancing across the letters. Otto has become as much a part of my life as Dagen and Wylan have, but there’s something different about him. He’s confident behind the keys, confident in his words, but right now, there’s a nervousness in those little bubbles. He’s usually much quicker to reply. They start and then stop and then start again, as if he’s either erasing his words or thinking about what to type next.
Saturday is the Tech Gala, he finally comes back with and I frown.
It is, I reply.
The little bubbles pop up again.
You finished your work for Dagen this week already.
It’s not a question. It’s more a statement, as if he already knows I have. I’m not surprised either though it should weird me out. Otto often makes comments about things he shouldn’t really know about, like asking how my specific coffee drink tasted after I ordered it from the coffee shop outside of work or commenting on Elsie’s grades.
I did, I answer despite him already knowing.
Bubbles again. I’m invested so much I’m just standing in the kitchen staring at my phone. When I realize I’m just hovering, I move over to the counter to lean against it.
So you’re not busy right now.
My frown deepens. No, I’m not, I answer and wait for his reply.
I’m sending a car for you.
That answer comes so quickly, I think he must have had them ready on the keyboard and hit send right after my response.
Okay? Where am I going? What should I wear?
