by Molly E. Lee
I understood that. The hacker lifestyle—late nights lost between codes and crossing boundaries that begged for it—was hard to understand if you weren’t also into it.
Brandon had complained on a daily basis about the amount of time I spent with my gear.
Dean pushed some stray sandy-blond hair off his forehead, his eyes sharp on the computer screen. No doubt booting up the presentation that Principal Tanner created himself every year—slides and videos with facts on how sex was as dangerous as drinking and driving. I don’t know why he had to enlist Dean to get the presentation up; it wasn’t any more technical than pressing play, but then again, Tanner loved a power trip.
“I still think you should give it to him.” Hannah nudged me, and I tore my gaze from Dean.
“What?” I blinked at her, and she laughed again.
“Your V-card.”
I gaped at her, my mouth opening and closing several times. “Stop it,” I finally managed. She’d brought it up more than once since Brandon and I broke up. “If I didn’t give it to Brandon—”
“Come on,” she said. “Brandon was an absolute dick. And you broke up two months ago. Dean would be perfect for you.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Really?” she asked. “I think it’s time you admitted it. It makes total sense. He’s a hacker, you’re a hacker—”
“That is horrible logic,” I cut her off. “That’s like saying you play basketball, he plays basketball…”
“Ugh,” she said. “That is so not the same thing. And you know I meant more—”
“I’m happy with the way things are.”
And I was. I’d dated Brandon for a year too long. I wasn’t ready to dive into a relationship again.
“You’ve been friends with Dean almost as long as you have with me,” she said, like that explained everything.
“Right, but it’s not like we’re out of school friends. We only hang in the coding room or random times at lunch.” I sighed.
“He gave you his cell number, like, a year ago.”
“Yeah, to swap tech or stories.” I rolled my eyes. “It’s not like he told me to call him for fun.”
And why would he? He was Dean effin’ Winters. A hot hacker-boy-after-my-own-heart genius. In a snap, he could have Sabrina, the most beautiful, popular, and hard-to-get girl in school, turn to putty in his hands. Besides, we may have been friends in class, but my dating Brandon had always made me see Dean as a non-datable entity.
“Right,” she said. “And he just happens to bring you venti iced green teas to coding class…for what? Professional hacker courtesy?”
“Exactly,” I said. He’d brought me my favorite late-night fuel on four different occasions, but I tried not to read into it. He was a decent guy. A good friend. A gorgeous, mysterious, funny, perceptive, way-out-of-my-league friend.
My eyes drifted back to him. His fingers flew fast and confident over the keys. What would it be like to cross that line with him? To feel those fantastic fingers in my hair as we kissed…
I bet he tastes like that spearmint gum he’s always popping. I bet his lips are warm and—
“You can have herpes without even knowing you have it.” Ms. Conner’s voice was higher than a mouse’s, but it soared easily enough through the domed lecture hall, dousing my thoughts with a giant bucket of ice water.
The room instantly fell silent, and she pointed behind her without bothering to look. Dean ducked his head and clicked a few keys. The projector lit up with the first slide.
HERPES: Do you have it? One in four sexually active teens does.
I cringed at the picture that accompanied the headline. I understood her need to shock the room into attention—especially with the school year just starting, none of us actually wanted to be here—but the pictures were a little much. I glanced around the room, and it was clear she’d scarred half the audience while the other was ignoring her scare tactics by discreetly checking their cells.
Sinking back into the chair, I demanded the blueberry scone I’d had for breakfast to sit tight. A hard feat as slide after slide of the diseases that can occur with unprotected sex flashed across the screen. Not that Ms. Conner or Principal Tanner’s presentation taught us about protected sex.
“It’s not just intercourse, either,” Ms. Conner continued after the fifth slide on HPV popped up. “Most of these diseases can be contracted from oral sex as well.” She let out a deep breath, her arms behind her back. “The safest way to protect against this stuff?” she asked, scanning the faces that still paid her any attention.
Prophylactics.
Safe sex.
Communication.
I thought about raising my hand, but I didn’t want to steal her thunder. Especially if she was about to finally show a slide worth something—like how to get and properly use birth control.
“Condoms,” Chase, from the JV soccer team, mumbled from the center of the room. His buddies chuckled around him.
“No.” Ms. Conner fiddled with her note cards, her cheeks flushing. “The only surefire way to keep yourself healthy is to not have sex. That’s why here at Wilmont Academy we practice and preach abstinence.”
A few students groaned, and I rolled my eyes.
Sure, I wasn’t having sex, but almost all my friends were. And it didn’t mean that I wouldn’t do it someday if the perfect opportunity presented itself. Ms. Conner and the principal telling us not to have sex was about as helpful as saying don’t speed, don’t drink, don’t smoke, don’t swear, don’t, don’t, don’t.
It didn’t matter that not everyone chose to do every item on the don’t list. There were people who did.
“Whoa,” Hannah said, gripping my elbow. “Are you all right?”
“What?” I whispered.
“You’re all red and glaring.”
I relaxed my tense muscles as Ms. Conner motioned for the next slide. Another wave of Dean’s magic fingers, and it came up.
“It’s just so dumb, you know? Acting like this will make everyone stop having sex.”
“Totally.”
“Here are some proven ways to enjoy your partner while maintaining an abstinent lifestyle,” Ms. Conner said. She pointed at the slide behind her that had a picture of a couple holding hands. “Hand-holding can be a very emotionally connecting and satisfying experience.”
A few more barely contained laughs and groans came from the mass of students in the rows behind us, and Ms. Conner cleared her throat. I almost felt bad for her. This ridiculous presentation wasn’t hers; it was Tanner’s. She was simply the one forced to present it.
“This”—she glanced at Dean—“is a video Principal Tanner has put together to show more examples of safe ways to enjoy your partner. Like hugging and high-fiving.”
Dean clicked another button, and a video popped up on the screen.
Abstinence: The Wilmont Way and How to Uphold It displayed in thick white letters, and a classic Bach song played in the background. Then the video faded to black, and the music instantly transitioned to a bow-chica-wow-wow tune straight out of every cheesy romantic movie ever.
A couple appeared on the screen—two vampires from a popular show. My jaw practically came unhinged as I watched the sexy af male vamp throw the blond female against a wall and hook her legs around his hips while he kissed the breath out of her.
A startled gasp rolled through the audience like a tidal wave—myself included—as we watched a compilation of the hottest make-out scenes from every hit show currently on television.
One blink and the scene transitioned to a new couple kissing and sighing while a steamy shower soaked the little clothes they had on.
Another flash—sighs and kisses and moans.
Over. And. Over.
Ms. Conner dropped her note cards. Principal Tanner nearl
y slipped on them as he hurried over to Dean, the purple vein in his forehead damn near ready to pop. The fury rolling off him was enough to shake Dean out of his shock, and he quickly axed the video, the screen returning to white.
Dean held up his hands like Tanner had come at him with a loaded gun. “All I did was hit play on the video you had on here,” he said, his voice barely audible over the laughter and chatter rippling through the crowd.
And that much had to be true. Principal Tanner would’ve already had the video on his personal computer he’d given Dean to hook up to the projector. Dean was good, one of the best, but there was no way he could’ve switched out the videos that fast. Someone must have broken into the principal’s computer before the assembly. Which technically could’ve been Dean, but I highly doubted it. He was smarter than that. If he wanted to prank the principal, he’d do it without a trace.
Principal Tanner smoothed down his unwrinkled suit and faced us. The look was enough to suck all the sound from the room. “That was unacceptable.” He shook his head. “Be certain the responsible party will be punished.”
My stomach sank. With Tanner on his new personal warpath, I pitied whoever had decided to pull the prank.
Chapter Two
Dean
“Choked pretty hard in there, didn’t you, Dean?” Tessa’s voice was two parts smug and just this side of nervous.
I stopped my hustle down the hall toward coding class and turned to find my little sister leaning against her locker. Her bright red lipstick wasn’t exactly in regulation with the Wilmont uniform and presentation rules, but I’d never be the one to point that out.
“Whoa,” she said, popping off the locker when I reached her. “Did he expel you?”
I rubbed my palms over my face, forcing back the adrenaline that had shaken my muscles since the epic fail of a sexual awareness presentation a few hours ago.
“Course not.” I hiked my bag onto my shoulder, flashing her my everything’s fine smile—one we’d shared more times than I could count over the years any time she thought Mom was about to ground me.
She was the only girl in our family, and so I had this unavoidable instinct to protect her.
“I didn’t do it,” I continued, shaking my head. I studied her not-at-all-surprised face for a few seconds before the proper shock registered in her eyes.
“You didn’t?” she said, but I could see straight through her.
“Tessa,” I groaned. “What do you know?” I’d never peg my sister for tampering with Principal Tanner’s precious presentation, but one of her rebellious friends? Maybe. The boyfriend she’d had since she was six? Maybe times two.
“Nothing!” She gaped at me before rolling her eyes. “You worry a helluva lot for someone who’s ready to buck the system any chance he gets.”
“One,” I said, holding up a finger, “don’t ever say buck the system. Two”—I held up another finger—“just because I like to test weaknesses in any given security system doesn’t mean I’m not going to worry about my baby sister when she clearly is in way over her head.”
She scoffed and pulled out her cell, fingers flying across the screen. She pocketed it after a good fifty-six seconds of ignoring me. “I’ve got to meet Colt,” she said, and flashed me a perfectly innocent smile. “I’m glad he didn’t expel you.” She punched me on the shoulder. “I’d hate not having my over-worrying brother here to protect me.”
I snorted. “Tanner knew I didn’t do it. Whoever jacked with his video had to break into his office last night or early this morning before the assembly, and I was with him setting up the system.” I watched every line of her face, wondering if she would give anything away. Her features were smooth as she stared right back at me.
“Sounds like a hassle for just a few laughs.”
I arched a brow at her. “A few?”
The entire school had found the updated presentation hilarious. Hell, it had shocked me—the fact that someone had the balls to pull that on Tanner—so much that I hadn’t gotten the vid down quick enough.
That had earned me a half-hour lecture in his office—an endless stream of negative criticism against my “computer skills.” Please, he would shit his pants if he knew half the things I could do with a cell phone, let alone my own perfectly configured laptop.
Still, he’d been pissed enough to punish—more like embarrassed enough. It wasn’t every day he was thrown off his crisp, pristine routine of perfection. He needed someone to blame and for now he only had me. Not for the vid, because I’d been at home last night—as he’d called and confirmed with my mother—but because I hadn’t checked the video before I’d hooked up his computer to the projector. Then again, neither had he.
Could’ve been worse, I suppose. He could’ve expelled me or refused to recommend me when MIT called to gather my stats closer to the spring—he had that much power. Instead he decided to “teach me a lesson” and ensure that my “skills” would improve at the same time.
“Code Club,” he’d called it. Said it with the same bravado as a frat-dude would say Fight Club. I was to hold an extracurricular club after school, three times a week, educating any student who wanted to learn more about anything involving computers. “No better way to improve your skills than teach. And after the horrid fiasco you let me walk into today, Mr. Winters, you clearly need more practice in all matters electronic. In addition, you’ll maintain, update, and streamline the academy’s website.”
His words echoed through my head as I glanced at my cell. “Tell Colt he’s a douche,” I said, glancing down at Tessa, who waited patiently as if I’d say more about Tanner. Almost like she wanted me to say more. I sighed, lowering my voice. “Tess.”
“What?” she snapped. “I’m not going to tell him that. He already knows you hate him.”
I rolled my eyes. I didn’t hate Colt. He actually treated my baby sister better than I’d ever seen any of my friends treat their girlfriends. But, he was dating my sister. I had to give him shit on principle. “Tess,” I said again, guiding her back toward her locker. “This is your one shot.”
She swallowed hard before a muscle in her jaw ticked. That same anger trigger I’d seen in Sean too many times—like the one time I’d cracked his password on the desktop in his room and reconfigured all his specs.
“Talk to me.”
“I have nothing to talk about. You’re being weird.” She avoided looking me in the eye.
“Damn it, Tess,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. I was going to be late to coding. “If you know who pulled that crap this morning—” I glanced around, making sure Tanner wasn’t going to rappel from the ceiling or something. “You could catch a lot of heat.” Whenever Tanner found out who did it—and he would because he always did—then he’d likely punish the culprit’s circle of friends, too.
That was his style. Probably one of the main reasons I’d never pulled a stunt on his system even though I’d been dying to since the sixth grade, when he’d forced me to peel off every sticker on my laptop that I’d collected from my summer computer science boot camp. I’d earned those tiny, sticky badges of honor, and he’d claimed they were a distraction and forced me to toss them in the garbage.
“Whatever,” she said. “You’re delusional. And now I’m late.” She brushed past me, hurrying down the hallway that was now almost empty of students.
Maybe I was. Maybe none of her friends would be dumb enough to pull a prank like that, but when it came to Tessa, I was on high alert. We were only two years apart. She’d been my best friend since my parents brought her home—not that I’d ever tell her that—and I couldn’t stop the instinct to protect her. It was in my blood. Probably why Sean—my older brother—was always riding me about shit, too. He likely felt the same way, but whenever he came home to visit and started hovering over me, I told him to eff off.
Kind of like how Tess just did to me.
<
br /> Huh.
Perspective.
I blinked a few times, crawled out of my head, and rushed down the hall.
Thirteen strides later, I dashed into Mr. Griffin’s room.
His full, quiet room.
I swallowed hard, ducking my head under the light of the projector as I found my seat in the back.
“Mr. Winters,” he said, drawing more attention to my entrance as I settled in my desk. I dug my laptop out of my bag, firing up the screen in seconds.
“Sorry,” I said before he could continue. “Principal Tanner had a technical issue.” May have been with “my skills” and not a computer, but close enough for the excuse.
Mr. Griffin waved me off. His black polo was untucked, one hand loosely hanging in his khaki pocket. Fresh out of college, he had to be one of the youngest teachers at Wilmont, but no one could deny his enthusiasm for teaching code. “No worries,” he said. “I wanted to ask you what your favorite coding language is.” He glanced around the room at the other students who had been taking notes before I dropped in. “I know you’ve been at this for longer than some of the class.”
I scanned the room. The only other true hacker in the room was a swirl of light pink in a sea of blind curiosity.
Amber Henderson.
The girl had skills. She also happened to be funny as hell, sharp, and wicked hot. The fact that she’d had a boyfriend for the past year had kept us merely acquaintance-like friends. Her fingers currently clicked her keyboard—she was locked in—the rest of the room vapor. Griffin could’ve easily called on her for the question, but he was ribbing me for my late arrival.
Touché.
“Python,” I finally answered, returning my focus to the front of the room. The words Programming Language were in black letters on the screen behind Griffin.
