"No, really," Tessa said, a little desperately. "He's totally single. He's looking to date, actually."
Adam buried his head in his hands. "Not helping," he muttered, the words muffled by his palms.
Her voice went up an octave. "And...um, I can tell you he's a great kisser!" she blurted out.
Now the girls were laughing hysterically.
"Sorry," Tessa whispered to him. He felt her breath on his ear, his neck, and his body tightened--not out of embarrassment this time. He cleared his throat, then straightened.
"Right. The game," he said, turning back to the notebook and ignoring the burgeoning hard on that was threatening and trying to at least salvage something out of this situation.
"Tessa, I just don't see how this can work out," Adam said, frowning.
Tessa crossed her arms. They'd been trying to hash out the details of the game for the past hour, since they got back from dinner with the girls. They sat at the large dining room table, which was covered with a blizzard of paper...sketches, notes, and crumpled missteps. Both of their laptops were out and up. They had a few sketches from Kyla's DeviantArt profile up, as well as Tessa's own foundation for a game----the engine she'd been working on for about two years.
"It can," she said, tapping a few keys.
"Not with this level of detail and this deadline," he said, leaning forward, his expression firm. "Trust me. This is my job. I match work to progress. There's no way you can do a fully realized seven level game with an additional boss level, with full three-dimensional figures, in the next two weeks, with just you and me."
She grumped. "Watch me," she said, leaning forward herself, feeling pugnacious.
He stood, and so did she. They were practically nose-to-nose.
Which was probably what reminded her of that damned kiss. Why, oh why, had she done that?
She refused to back down--this game was too important. More to the point, proving that she was more than ready to take on that engineering slot was important.
Unfortunately, her hormones seemed to have missed the memo, as they were now cheering madly for her to do a repeat of the dinner kiss. Her heart started pounding in her chest, and unfortunately, it had little to do with anger.
He sighed. "We're going to have to compromise here a bit," he said, clicking open a new tab on his browser. "Instead of the full drawings, we'll go with the chibi...those small, cute sketches."
She frowned, initially unwilling to buckle--but the combination of feeling light-headed with hormones, as well as the reluctant admittance that yes, this was going to be an absolutely metric ton of work, had her grumbling her assent. "They're recognizable. And the audience would love them," she agreed.
"Let's just make it one big level," he said. "Maybe a few puzzles."
"That's lame," she shot back. "I'll back it down to four levels."
His blue eyes shone. "How about three levels and the boss level?"
She sighed. It wasn't the grand plan she had in mind, but he was right: she had to be at least a bit more realistic. Better to knock it out of the park on three levels and a boss than have a grand plan and screw the pooch. The girls needed this. Hell, she needed this. "Deal," she said, holding out a hand.
He took it, shaking it...and then holding it for just a second too long.
"The fire's really warm tonight," she murmured, pulling away. It had been chilly out, and since they were going to be talking for a while, he'd loaded the fireplace up. Now, the room was as toasty as southern California.
"Too hot for you?" he asked.
You certainly are.
She blinked in surprise. "No, no," she said quickly. "It's nice."
"I may have overdone it," he said. Then she watched as he peeled off his sweatshirt, leaving him only in a plain grey raglan with navy sleeves. The movement mussed his hair and the thin fabric pulled taut over his shoulders. It had a small hole by the neck, signs of a clearly well-loved, over-worn shirt, which should've made him look ratty. Instead, it just made him look devilishly, casually male.
She cleared her throat. "That's good progress. Now about those levels..."
"You're going to have to come up with that," he said. "I've never even seen this show. I still think a first-person shooter would be better. What sort of puzzles are you thinking of doing, anyway? Match three? Hidden object?"
She frowned. "There's actually a really funny episode where they're trapped in this tomb...very Indiana Jones, with a twist. You'd probably like it, actually," she said.
He shrugged.
"No, seriously. If you want to get a feel for the show, you should watch it."
Now he grimaced. "I don't know. It sounds like a chick..." He stopped abruptly.
"A chick show, huh?" she said, raising an eyebrow.
"You know what I meant," he muttered. "What the hell am I going to do, watch a show with 'hot guys' all being angsty?"
"Just watch it," she said.
"What, right now?"
Determined, and equal parts irritated and amused by his reaction, she nudged him to the couch. "It'll take, what, forty minutes? Don't be a baby."
She turned on the TV, then sat on the end of the couch, while he took up the middle, stretching out his legs on the coffee table and sighing heavily. "The things I do for you," he said, winking.
As the opening credits started, she felt the familiar happiness. Mystics was one of her favorite shows. This episode in particular was funny, with plenty of repartee, humor, and some great action. Still, she felt like she had in high school, when she desperately wanted one of her acquaintances to get as excited about something as she was.
She tried not to be too anxious, shooting him furtive stares to see how he was enjoying it. When he grinned, she felt a knot untie in her stomach. When he laughed, it was all she could do not to punch the air in triumph.
Of course, all that staring meant looking at his face. And remembering that damned kiss, yet again.
As kisses went, it wasn't that big a deal. It was just a pressing of lips, teasing, coaxing. No tongue...well, not really. Not even much other touching, other than her arm around his neck and shoulders, tugging him closer. Sure, he'd participated--what guy wouldn't? But she felt certain it wasn't that big a deal for him.
"I'm surprised. That was pretty damned good," he said.
"What?" she squeaked.
He glanced at her, grinning. "The show. Remember?"
Of course he meant the show! She smiled, relieved. "I knew you'd like it."
"I think I know where you want to go with it. I'd say half hidden object, to find the clues, then a puzzle. So basically an escape-the-room game." He shook his head. "Not as easy as a straightforward hidden object, but more in line with what you want."
"That's it exactly," she said, grateful. He was a good partner, she thought.
He leaned his head against the couch back. "Man, I'm tired," he said. "I don't think I can do anymore tonight. Tell you what: tomorrow, right after work, we'll go through each level, start storyboarding and come up with components. Then we'll split up coding. This is still going to be a shit ton of work to split between the two of us. We really ought to get the other guys involved, if at all possible."
"Nobody would help..." she said, still bitter.
"Well, I'm not much," he said, grinning, "but I promised: I will help, no matter what."
She felt so grateful, she couldn't help throwing herself at him, giving him a huge hug.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you," she said, with a quick squeeze.
Of course, they were still on the couch--so that meant that they both twisted a bit, and she landed a bit in his lap. Just a little, for a fraction of a second. She inhaled in cologne--something woodsy, with a little bit of something musky. Sandalwood? She wanted to inhale it until she could identify the combination.
Oh, God, she realized. First she'd kissed him. Then she'd hugged him. She'd quite literally thrown herself at him. Twice.
She quickly pulled away.
"I'm more t
ired than I thought," she stammered. "I'll just...go to bed! Good night!"
With that, she fled to her room, shutting the door and leaning against it.
For God's sake, woman. Get it together!
On the plus side, she was going to create the game, which would be a slam-dunk to win. She'd help the bookstore girls. Best of all, she'd have something tangible to show off for review, and to help make the case that she deserved to be on the engineering team.
On the minus... they were going to have to work hard, side by side, for the next two weeks. Every minute they weren't at MPG, they'd be working together.
Closely together.
And her body was being none too subtle about what it wanted.
Well, too bad, she scolded her body. She wasn't going to screw this up just because she'd had a dry spell for the past three years, especially not with a co-worker who was also her roommate.
Guys came and went, but the job? That was something she could count on.
It was 3 a.m., and Adam tossed fitfully in his bed. He just couldn't seem to get to sleep, even though he was sandy-eyed and surly and really, really wanted to crash.
He just couldn't stop thinking.
He wanted to blame it on the video game. Despite himself, he'd gotten sucked into the show. Not the hot guy part, obviously, but they were funny together, and there were some kick ass action scenes, and the mythology was actually pretty solid. He was still playing with ideas of how to streamline the coding to get the game ready on time.
And yeah, he was thinking of the bookstore women. They were funny, too, and engaging. He'd be lucky to go out with absolutely any of them.
Oh, who was he kidding? You're thinking about that kiss. With your roommate.
Which, honestly, was probably the stupidest thing he'd focused on ever.
Tessa was a machine. She was all about the job. In fact, it was one of the most promising things about taking her on as a roommate. If he'd roomed with one of the guys, he'd probably wonder about getting the rent paid on time, or having people over at all house very day of the week. If Fezza had felt like moving in, there would probably be Nerf wars and beer pong every Wednesday. While he liked playing videogames and hanging with the guys with the best of them, especially after Casey left, he felt like he was getting a little old for that every day of the week.
After Casey moved out, he just wanted somebody to help pay the bills, who kept to themselves, who didn't cause a fuss. In a nutshell, that was Tessa.
But now, with one stupid little kiss, something had shifted.
You just haven't gotten laid, his rational side sent up. Deprivation was likely to make anyone a little crazy. It'd be like those cartoons, where one starving character on a life raft started looking at the other passengers like they were roasted chickens. It wasn't personal.
He suddenly heard the shower running, which was odd for three in the morning. He got up, making sure he wasn't just hearing things. He doubted it had simply started on its own. Then again, he doubted an axe murderer was stopping by just to shower.
So it had to be Tessa, right? But why? She usually took showers in the morning before work, or just before bed.
When he heard the thing shut off and the door open, he popped his head out.
Tessa was shivering. "Shit, cold cold cold," she muttered, then turned and bumped into him the dark. She shrieked, jumping back and hitting the hallway wall.
"Whoa! Whoa, it's okay. It's just me," he said, steadying her.
"What the actual hell?" she barked, smacking him on the shoulder. She was breathing hard. "You scared me!"
"Well, sorry," he said, turning the hall light on. She squinted, flinching back from the brightness. He noticed she was only wearing a towel, her hair falling in damp ringlets. "You don't normally take a shower at three o'clock in the morning."
She was still frowning a little, but he saw guilt creep into her expression. "Did I wake you?"
He thought about lying to get himself off the hook, but he shook his head. "I was having trouble sleeping. Thinking about the game," he hedged.
"Yeah...me too," she said, looking away quickly and biting her lip. Then she glanced at him. "It's, um, going to be a lot of work, so I was stressing out. I thought maybe if I took a quick shower, I'd, you know, relax."
The towel wasn't that big, he couldn't help but notice. He was doing a lot of noticing for that damned early. Her skin was flushed, a nice toasted almond, dewy and pink from the heat of the shower. Without her glasses, her brown eyes looked huge, her dark eyelashes damp and dotted with moisture. She bit that full lower lip again.
His body tightened.
"Did it help?" he croaked, then cleared his throat. "Relax you, I mean."
She shrugged, then sighed. "Listen, I need to apologize."
"For what? Getting me involved in this deadline?" He shrugged. "No worries. If it was a problem, I'd tell you.'
"Not that." She shifted her weight from one hip to the other, her arms crossed. "At the restaurant. You know." She swallowed hard.
"What, the kiss?" He let out a snort of laughter. Who apologized for kissing?
"If a guy had done that to a girl, I'd have a real problem," she said. "It was...you didn't have any chance to consent. It's just not something I agree with."
He blinked. She looked serious. "Trust me, I'm all for consent," he said, equally serious. "But it was just a kiss, Tess. And you were doing it to prove a point."
"That's no excuse." She looked miserable. "Seriously. If there's anything I can do to make it up to you..."
Now he was strangling, whether on laughter or something else entirely, he wasn't sure. "You mean, like when you're kids, and somebody hits you and then you get a free shot?"
Now she looked surprised. "I wouldn't have put it that way..."
Before he could really think about it, he leaned in and kissed her. Hard.
He'd meant to just make it light, a quick buss and a "we're even," to take the charge off the situation. But frankly, he was running on a sleep deficit, he'd been thinking about her and that kiss for the past few hours, and as soon as his lips touched hers and he heard her little gasp of surprise, he smiled.
And then she grabbed him in surprise, pressing her damp front against his bare chest.
They stood there, frozen, their lips brushing lightly...then he pressed a bit harder, his mouth moving. Her mouth moved in concert, and a low, soft sound of pleasure rumbled from her throat.
He really ought to pull away, he thought--just before his hands came up, stroking against her naked arms, weaving into the damp waves of her hair.
She was shorter than him, so her head angled back naturally, tilting up to meet him, and her mouth opened a little more. His tongue stroked the petal-softness of her inner lips, and he felt his body shudder. Or maybe hers did. Maybe both of them?
When her tongue stroked his, it was his turn to groan. His hand tightened a little bit, fingers twining in the waves of her hair.
He should really stop, he thought. Seriously.
They were slanting their heads, their mouths moving sensuously. He wanted to devour her. His body went hard as quartz and...
And he suddenly realized. He was only wearing boxers. She was only wearing a towel.
This was insane.
He backed away, and she squeaked, shrilly.
The towel started to fall. She'd only loosely wrapped it around herself, and the end she'd tucked in must've dislodged during their embrace.
For a brief, shining moment, he caught the barest glimpse of her side, the high curve of her hip. Possibly a flash of the side of her breast. She caught the end of the towel, quickly grappling the thing back in place.
"Oh, shit," he said. "I'm sorry. I was just...I just meant it as a joke. You know. We're even?"
He now understood how she felt. He was horrified that his casual action could have gone so haywire, so quickly.
"I am so very, very sorry...'
"It's fine," she said, her eyes un
focused. She was staring at his mouth. Then her eyes started to head down...
"Well, goodnight!' he said, retreating before she could get a good look at the jousting pole of his erection. He paused before completely closing the door, just peering his face out. "I really..."
"It's fine, really!" she said, her expression a mix of humor, irritation...and something else he couldn't pin down. Then she retreated, turning off the hall light.
He shut the door, then banged his head lightly against it.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. What the hell had he been thinking?
His body throbbed in pain. No chance he was getting sleep. He closed his eyes, and caught that flash of her curves--remembered the feel of her mouth.
Hot. Damn.
Who needed a shower now, huh? And an ice-cold one, at that.
CHAPTER 5
Tessa sat at her desk, surreptitiously sketching out storyboards for the Mystics game. Fortunately, no one was paying attention to her. There wasn't a lot of staff, in the first place--lots of people had taken time off for the holidays, including the higher-ups. The general consensus was that nobody did work between Christmas Day and New Year's Eve, and today was December 30th.
Which was just as well, she thought, after last night's...event.
She'd barely slept. She couldn't stop replaying the moment in her mind, over and over. She was acting like a fangirl, for God's sake! She was torn between thinking it was a joke gone wrong, and wondering why she hadn't upped the ante, let the towel drop, and see where it went from there. But she respected that he took her consent comment to heart, even as her body screamed with frustration.
This morning, Adam could barely look her in the eye.
"I'm so very sorry," he'd said, staring at his to-go-cup as they got into the car that morning. "I meant it as just sort of a joke--you know, ha-ha, we're even."
"Ha ha," she'd repeated numbly.
"But it was three in the morning, and I guess things just sort of...got out of hand?" He cleared his throat. "I don't know what I was thinking." He paused.
Her body heated traitorously. Could you think it again sometime? The metaphorical door was right there, waiting to be opened.
Level Up: A Geek Romance Rom Com, Book 1 (Fandom Hearts) Page 6
