by Flite, Nora
My attention moved across the darkened parking lot towards Conner. He was chatting with a few of our friends. His track jacket couldn't be keeping him warm, but he looked incredibly comfortable and relaxed as he threw back his head and laughed at something one of the guy's had just said.
I admired his easy going nature. I'd always struggled to find a balance between extrovert and introvert. Running my own company required I met strangers, shook hands, giggled at dumb jokes, all in the name of earning clout. If people didn't like me, they wouldn't hire me to make their clients more likable.
It had been a long, agonizing experience. Give me a solo project and I'd rock it. Group stuff? Ugh. I knew I was a Type A—I didn't trust people to put the same effort into things as me.
But Conner... Aubrey is right. He has nice energy. His social butterfly shtick wasn't an act. He was legit good at making friends. So why did he tell me he was an introvert? His comment from before didn't mesh with what was in front of me.
“Maya!” he said, waving as he jogged over. He saw how I had my hands buried in the pockets of my plum yoga pants. “You're cold. Here.” He removed his jacket, draping it around me. “Let's get in my car, the seats are heated.”
“Oo la la,” Aubrey giggled.
“It was great to get to hang out with you tonight,” he said, offering his hand to her.
My friend didn't hesitate; she shook Conner's hand vigorously. “Same. We'll have to do it again.”
“If all your ideas are this fun, that's a hard yes.”
Aubrey gave me an approving glance. Conner was earning bonus points, now.
After a hug goodbye, I followed Conner into his car. His seats did warm up quick—I shifted happily. “Nice,” I sighed.
He chuckled appreciatively, leaning over to press his lips to mine. “I love watching you wiggle.”
My smile hurt my face. “Thanks for rescuing me from my evil ex.”
Conner's face darkened. “I thought that was him. It was hard to hear what he was saying over the music, but you looked so freaked out, I put two and two together. Why was he here?”
“One of Aubrey's friends invited him.” Sinking into the seat, I drew my knees to my chest. “I dated him for a long time, my friends became his friends. I didn't want to make people choose sides, so he shows up sometimes at the same events I go to.” I took a long breath in to prepare myself. “Know how I invited everyone in my contacts to our wedding?”
“Fuck. Him too?”
“Yeah. Conner, I swear, I don't want him there. I don't like seeing him. It reminds me too much about how gross he made me feel about... about just being me.” I wrapped myself tighter, gripping my body, contorting into a nest of limbs as I tried to block out the awful memories.
Conner reached out to cradle me against his shoulder. “My sweet Cherry. My sweet Cherry, emphasis included, okay? I'll tell him not to go to the wedding myself if you don't want to. He made you miserable, he doesn't deserve to see you basking in pure joy.”
Cupping his jaw, I traced his smooth skin. “I love how protective you are. It's sexy as hell.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Get us home, right now.”
Fierce arousal turned his pupils into black blossoms. “That's right, we have some unfinished business, don't we?”
“Not me,” I said, palming his erection in his pants. He groaned openly and arched into my hand. “You took care of my business during laser tag.”
“I'm glad my future wife believes in fairness,” he rasped.
“Can you drive like this?”
“Knowing what you're going to do to me once we get home,” he said revving the engine, “I'd drive blindfolded through a landslide.”
Chapter 17
How do you know?
CONNER IS A GREAT SINGER.
I know this because, on our way back home, Lizzo's Truth Hurts came on the radio. I went to turn it up—he reached out for the buttons, too. I jerked back, thinking he must want to change the song. Instead he blasted the volume and tapped the steering wheel as he belted the lyrics.
Laughing in delight, I sang along with him.
With music swirling in our veins, we stumbled from his car in his parking garage and half-walked, half-made out on our way to his front door. He dropped his key. I pulled out mine, unlocking it. “Welcome home,” I whispered. My offhand comment made him freeze. Then he kissed me even more fiercely.
Oh yes. He loved that I'd called it home.
Clothes flew, our skin connected, and I couldn't say when we started having sex—the living room, the kitchen, the hall—but we eventually made it to his huge bed. Happiness is an exhausting thing. Sleep tackled me harder than Conner had.
I GASPED AS I CAME awake. At first I didn't know what was wrong. Then, a flicker of light came through the bedroom window. A thunderous explosion followed. Another storm? There had been so many this season. Yawning, I carefully climbed from the bed so I could close the blinds and block out the lightning without waking Conner.
Task completed. But it wasn't pitch black like I'd expected; there was something else illuminating the room. Conner's computer screen was glowing in the corner.
I didn't remember it being on before I fell asleep. The brightness of it hurt my tired eyes—I'd struggle to get back to sleep if I didn't turn it off, and I was already up, so I had no excuse.
Conner grumbled something. He was lying on his stomach, face under his pillow. Seeing him so exposed made me want to protect him... to care for him. It reminded me of what he'd said to me in the past. Does he really think I'd be a good mom? It was easier to picture it now that he was around.
Smiling like a stupid school girl with a crush, I sat down at his computer, looking for the off button for the monitor. I had no intention of snooping. I'd had a chance before and resisted, I wasn't going to start digging into his privacy now. I'm not that kind of person.
But... I had to squint to believe what I was seeing.
Why does he have the RingMe app open? And why does it look weird, is this an updated version or something? I hadn't used the program in a while, but I remembered it was a simple white box with a red border. Here, it looked different. There was a long string of words on the top bar that read: RINGME EXECUTE PROGRAM DEVELOPER MODE.
What did that mean, Developer Mode?
I had enough tech knowledge to know this wasn't normal. My heart began to race violently, pumping adrenaline into my limbs as I found myself unable to look away.
There was a small, black box overlapping the top left corner. In it was a bunch of code. In seconds I understood that Conner had access to some sort of backdoor version of the RingMe app. My eyes darted side to side, reading the data, absorbing it in disbelief.
KABOOM! Thunder cracked through the silence. I knocked the wireless mouse off the desk, scrambling to grab it, flinching at the noise as it hit the floor. “Maya?” Conner sat up in the bed, his eyes wide with dismay.
How dare he make that face? I hadn't been trying to spy on him! I didn't even know what I'd found, just that it was bizarre. I needed answers—he had them. I leaned away so he could see his computer screen. “What is this?”
“What's what?” he asked.
“Why does your version of RingMe look weird, what's all this code running on top of it? Are you hacking it or something?”
He offered a hollow laugh. “Maya...”
“Don't say my name like that,” I snapped, sounding oddly like my mother. “That tone is how you talk to a toddler having a meltdown. Ben used to do that to me and—just stop.” Conner's frown spread further. Comparing him to my ex had hurt him, but I was too freaked out to care. “Give me some explanation... any explanation... that I can understand.”
He stood from the bed, the blanket falling away, leaving him in just his boxers. His hands were held up, as if he was trying to assure me he meant no harm so I wouldn't bolt like a stray cat. “I wanted to tell you. I swear I did, but I wasn't sure how.”
“Te
ll me what?”
“I created RingMe.”
My stomach began to eat itself. “You... made it?”
“That's what I do. I'm a programmer. I design applications, then I sell them to the highest bidder.”
My head felt like someone had pumped helium into it. I was speaking so softly I could barely hear myself. “You mean you've done this before.”
“Multiple times, yeah.”
“How many?”
“Nine times. Though RingMe is the biggest contract I've ever had.”
I let that sink in. I hadn't moved from the chair, and he hadn't come closer. “That's why you're rich.”
“I'm not—”
“I know how popular RingMe is, Conner. You created one of the biggest dating apps out there. The reviews are all great, especially the ones from women! I did my research before I signed up to use it.”
“Of course you did.” His smile was tragic. “I'd expect no less from you.”
“I don't get it. Why would you hide this from me?” I had to be missing something. What was so bad about designing apps? My thoughts were disjointed, facts not clicking into place with how unsettled my subconscious was. “You programmed it, then sold it... but you also use it?”
“I sold it before it got out of beta. I agreed to bug test it for six months after it officially launched. They—the buyers—needed someone who knew the program intimately, someone who could make sure the matching algorithm was top notch. If there were any errors, I'd spot them.” He was talking fast, his passion for the tech-world slipping through. He caught himself and gave me an embarrassed smile. “I'm a perfectionist. Just like you.”
I clutched the arms of the chair until my forearms burned. He was in charge of perfecting the matching system? “Please tell me I wasn't some guinea pig caught up in your bug testing.”
“Of course not!” he shot back, lunging forward—he froze when I wheeled his chair away from him. The distance between us remained the same. “I was browsing the newest users and your profile caught my eye, so—”
“Caught your eye how?”
He shook his head rapidly. “I'm explaining it all wrong. In the Master Developer login, I can see all the profiles on the app. I was looking for how new users were being matched with others. Was it putting the right people together, or was it matching people who should never, ever date.”
“You can see that stuff?”
“Of course, I created the app, I can see everything.”
I sucked in air through my clenched teeth. “Even the things that are supposed to be private?”
Conner went pale. I'd never seen the strong, confident man I'd fallen for look so... so ill. “Maya, please, trust that I wasn't digging into your private data.”
“How can I believe that? You said yourself, you had access to that info! Oh my god, you designed the program, you made all if it!” Jumping to my feet, I leaned towards him with my fists balled at my hips. “All that stuff you said about us being matched because of fate? You had me believing there was something special about us! Something more than us, like a big, cosmic, fucking magical thing and all along, you...” I narrowed my eyes. “You were just researching my data, learning my kinks, to make me believe we had the same desires. What, did it look good to your buyers to have a living proof of concept?”
Betrayal soaked like poison into my body. I worried I might vomit.
“Maya! It wasn't like that!”
Ignoring him, I bent down, grabbing my things.
“Please, talk to me. Maya... Cherry!”
“Don't call me that!” I screamed, whirling on him. Thunder erupted outside the walls like sledgehammers in the sky. His skin had a faint blue glow from his computer, hollowing out his cheeks. Conner was aghast but he remained still as stone in the wake of my fury. Panting heavily, I began shoving my feet into my shoes. “Was that a lie, too, when you pretended not to know my real name? I'm so dumb, so fucking dumb to have trusted you.”
“No, please, it's not how you think it is!”
“You're telling me you didn't leer at my photos, my dirty secrets, before you sent me your first message? You browsed all the new, oblivious users, then you plucked me like I was a fucking grape from a branch.” I stopped tying my sneakers, staring at him as a horrific thought hit me. “Did the program ever match us, the way it's supposed to? Or did you force us together?”
His hands hung limp. He looked away. “The app never matched us. The only reason you saw my profile was because I manually put it in front of you. But, Maya, I swear I—”
“Subway.” I spit the safe word out like it was yellow phlegm. Conner's mouth fell open. The vein in his neck was taut, pulsing, as if he was constraining himself. “This was all a stupid game from the very beginning. You knew everything about me before I trusted you enough to tell you, then you acted like it was new info to you.” My heart shook with a wave of pain. “I knew you were a good actor. I didn't realize how good until now.”
“Maya!” He took a half-step.
I warded him off with my left hand. The ring he'd given me glinted between us; he breathed in sharply, like I'd aimed a gun at him. “We're done, Conner. I'm done.”
“Don't do this,” he pleaded.
“How can I do anything else?” I asked, unable to hide the sadness that choked my voice. The ring fit tighter than a glove, my skin was searing as I twisted it off forcefully. Conner was motionless the entire time. If he wanted to stop me, he didn't try.
Bending low, I hooked my duffel bag by the strap. “Goodbye,” I whispered. I placed the diamond and sapphire engagement ring on his desk. It sat just out of the range of his computer's light, the silver band dulled by shadows.
I shut the front door behind me.
It was louder than the thunder.
Chapter 18
Goldfish Memory
EVEN THOUGH I'D BEEN essentially living with Conner, I made sure to swing by my apartment to feed Ariel and check in on things. I picked up my mail every morning on the way into work.
The stack of mail in my box was the kind you'd get if you went out of town for a week. What is all this? Scanning the envelopes with a paranoid frown, I gathered it and brought it inside. I promptly dumped it unceremoniously onto my kitchen table. It only took a second for me to understand what it all was.
RSVPs to my 'wedding' next year.
My mother had been aghast at how I'd sent out digital invites. She'd be happy to know people were bothering to send me physical responses. Sighing, I flipped through the pile. I opened one from a friend I rarely saw:
Oh my gosh, Maya! I'm so happy for you! Can't wait to be at the wedding—waiting for more details. A proper invite with a location, maybe? Thinking positive thoughts about the new dream couple, Maya and Conner Whynn!
All the best,
Penelope
Seeing my name snuggled close to Conner's was like getting kicked in the stomach. Fighting down a wave of regret, I debated throwing the mail right in the trash. There wasn't going to be any wedding. What was the point? Why had I let things go this far?
Because of Mom? I wondered. Or because I fell hard for him?
Shuffling around in my striped pajama bottoms, I made myself two microwaved waffles—one for hunger, one to soothe misery—and then sat lotus style in a chair in front of Ariel's tank.
She swam closer, her orange fines unfurling gracefully in the water. “Why are relationships so complicated?” I asked her. She bobbed around in a lazy motion. “You're lucky. You're happy to have this whole tank to yourself. You'd hate sharing your space, or food, with someone.”
As if to prove my point, I sprinkled some flakes into her tank. While she gobbled up the bits hungrily, I chewed a mouthful of waffle. “See?” I mumbled through the food. “You can't pretend your life isn't awesome. Plus, if something bad does happen to you, you have the luxury of forgetting it in a few hours.”
My phone buzzed with a message. In my eagerness to see if it was Conner, I fell out of my c
hair. “Ow!” I groaned, rubbing my ass. I snatched my phone from where I'd left it by the mail.
MOM: DON'T FORGET, you promised to visit Pappy today.
Shit! I had forgotten about that!
Me: Got it, I'll be there soon!
Mom: He'll be really happy to see you. He's wanted one on one time with you for months but you were always busy.
Boy, she was not subtle. Shoveling the rest of my waffles down, I threw my hair into a lazy bun, then dressed in a pair of torn jeans and a mostly-clean navy tee-shirt that said Santa Barbara Summer on the front in faded white letters. I'd bought it years ago when I first took a trip there, and once it gained some holes, it became relegated to my 'sleeping in all day' drawer.
As I gathered my purse and keys, I looked back at Ariel. “See you tonight,” I said. “And every night from here on out. I'm done being betrayed by men.”
Goldfish had short memories. Not me.
THE DRIVE TO MY GRANDFATHER's farm on the outskirts of Tennessee wasn't the lone wolf road trip I wanted it to be. The weather was beautiful—the wind tossed my hair through the open window—but the radio insisted on playing songs that made me think of Conner.
When Lizzo came on, I shut it off, but not before I started to cry. “Fuck!” I shouted, slapping the steering wheel. Why had everything turned out so wrong? Why wasn't I instantly over him, considering what he'd done? All of our encounters were now tainted by the fact I knew that he had known everything I'd admitted privately on the app.
I wouldn't have been so honest about my filthy kinks if I'd thought someone would read them. I'd been unsure about the first meeting with Conner, and my whole no strings attached plan had come from my certainty that keeping my sex life relegated to a hotel hook up was the best I could do. I hadn't wanted another Ben.
Conner wasn't Ben... but was what he did any better?
I checked the radio—more Lizzo. Plugging in my phone, I scrolled with one hand until Cynthia Southerbee appeared. Maybe listening to something I hadn't shared with Conner would be safer.
