“I know what you’re doing, Special K,” Elijah whispers in my ear. “You’re gonna be drooling over those pictures later, aren’t you?”
“Whatever he said, ignore him.” Alisha whacks Elijah on the shoulder, but he laughs and hops out of her reach. I motion for them to join Carlos and his brother by the car. I take more photos, laughing at their silly poses.
“We need one with you,” Alisha calls out. She waves over a mom who’s been watching us, along with her two young boys who are also fascinated with the car. “Can you please take our picture?”
Alisha reaches out to pull me into the group, and I find myself sandwiched between her and Carlos. I’m 90 percent sure she did that on purpose. Carlos drapes his arm over my shoulder and Alisha’s hand squeezes my waist, like she’s sending me a secret message.
I’m unable to breathe, but it’s not because of Alisha.
“Say cheesy!” Minecraft Steve hollers through the cardboard and we all laugh as the mom takes our picture. Carlos’s arm is still around my shoulder. I don’t know whether to extricate myself or stay frozen in place to soak in the feel of his warm hand on my bare shoulder.
“Let’s see,” Elijah demands. We crowd around as Alisha scrolls through the photos. We’re all laughing in the first two, which is great, but in the last photo Elijah and Alisha are grinning at each other and Carlos is looking right at me, as I smile dorkily at the camera.
I shrug out of Carlos’s grasp, nervous energy spiking through me. Photos can reveal a lot, and this one…this one definitely reveals something. Something that takes my breath away.
“I’ll text these to you,” Alisha gives me a sly smile, then glances at Carlos. “To you, too.”
“Cool, thanks,” Carlos says, distracted by his brother’s antics.
Maybe he doesn’t look at photos the same way I do—that wouldn’t be a surprise. I’m used to deciphering emotions through the filter of a lens, but not everyone is. Alisha winks at me; she’s clearly seen the same thing I have.
“I’m starving,” Elijah announces. “Let’s get some grub.”
…
After we stand in long lines for food and eat together, we split up. Elijah and Alisha go downstairs to an author panel about villains and anti-heroes, while Carlos, Christopher, and I stay upstairs to cruise the display booths.
Carlos is exactly the big brother I knew he’d be: patient and indulgent, with a sliver of frustration showing through just when I start to think he’s too perfect.
As his brother agonizes over how to allocate his twenty dollars of personal spending money, Carlos heaves a huge sigh and gives me an apologetic shrug.
“This probably isn’t how you planned to spend your day, watching a kid have a brain freeze over which plastic sword to buy.”
I laugh. “It’s exactly how I planned to spend it; I just didn’t realize I’d know the kid.” I lift my camera and tell Christopher to pose. He does, striking threatening poses with each sword.
Another boy wanders over to give his opinion on the swords, and the two kids launch into a vigorous debate about the swords’ various abilities.
Carlos steps closer to me. Part of me longs for his arm to wrap his arm around my shoulder again, while the rest of me panics as he leans in close. He speaks softly so that only I can hear him.
“How long are you staying down here? For the duration?” His breath tickles my ear and I inhale sharply.
“I, um, yeah. My friend Lexi is picking me up since my dad doesn’t want me taking light rail late at night.”
Carlos glances at his brother, who’s still engaged in a heated debate with his new friend, then turns the full power of the Hershey’s eyes on me. “I can give you a ride home. If you want.”
My throat constricts as I try to form a reply. Unfortunately he mistakes my hesitation for a no and steps away, stiffening his shoulders. “Hey, Chris, hurry up and decide already.”
His brother shoots him a glare, then returns to his debate.
“I, um, thank you for the offer,” I squeak. “But I live pretty far, almost to Castle Rock, and I wouldn’t want you to go out of your way.”
He nods, his eyes still on his brother. I feel a wall of ice building between us. I briefly imagine the Wall from Game of Thrones, and me climbing it with ice picks, aiming straight for my own version of Jon Snow.
A barrier between Carlos and me is the last thing I want, but I’m not sure how to melt it. Maybe I should launch myself at him and plant a kiss on those lips I can’t stop dreaming about, like that crazy redhead did to Jon Snow.
“No fraternizing.” Carlos speaks so quietly I’m not sure if I heard him right.
“What?”
He turns to face me. “Rule number eight. Are you planning to stick to that rule and pretend that kiss in the park never happened?”
My heart stutters in my chest. I’ve got one shot at melting the ice between us. One shot at telling him how I really feel.
“Some rules are made to be broken. With the right person.” I say this with my Qa’hr voice, strong and confident, and I can tell he’s as surprised as I am.
Craacck. I feel the ice between us thaw. Even better, heat builds between us as his gaze locks on mine. A fire starts in my toes and works its way up to my chest. “So…do you—” he starts, but a voice interrupts him.
“Hey, Carlos!” Christopher calls out. “I need five more dollars.”
Carlos squeezes his eyes shut, then opens them to shoot a glare at his brother. “No more cash, dude.” He mutters something under his breath that almost sounds like “worst” and “date.” Christopher reluctantly puts both of the swords back, then wanders to the next booth to check out the enormous Funko Pop selection.
“You’re such a mean brother,” I joke.
“I know, right?” Carlos grins, rolling his eyes.
We follow Christopher to keep him in our line of sight, but hang back so we can talk just the two of us. Even though we’re surrounded by thousands of people, it’s like we’re a tiny island of two, occasionally crashed into by a wave of aliens. Like, literal aliens.
“My sister texted me. She’s picking Chris up at six o’clock,” Carlos says. “He’s gonna pitch a fit, but he’s got a sleepover at a friend’s tonight that I didn’t know about.”
I nod, wondering where this is going, not daring to get my hopes up.
“So that’s why I can give you a ride home if you want. I figured I’d hang out with you…um, and Elijah…until whenever.” He reaches out to grab a small Rey figurine from a display. “You should get this. It goes with your collection.”
“What collection?” I take the tiny plastic Resistance fighter and make eye contact with her instead of Carlos as my pulse thuds in my ears.
“The one on your desk.”
“Oh, right.” I hand the Rey figure back to Carlos, a flush heating my cheeks as our hands touch.
Christopher races over carrying a Minecraft Steve mini-figure. “I need this,” he announces. “Like, badly.”
“Like, no,” Carlos retorts, but he ruffles Chris’s hair. “Your twenty should cover it.”
Christopher’s dark eyes widen in mock horror, looking so much like his brother I want to laugh. “It’s only five dollars.”
“Great,” Carlos says. “That leaves you enough to buy a present for Landon’s sleepover.”
Christopher blinks up at him. “What sleepover?”
“Tonight. Rose is picking you up later. Much later.”
Christopher opens his mouth to protest, so I jump in.
“You won’t miss anything,” I say. “All the good stuff is done by dinner time.” It’s a white lie, but definitely allowed under the circumstances.
“Pick out a present for Landon,” Carlos says. “He likes dorky stuff, too, right?” Carlos glances at me. “I didn’t mean dorky like a bad thing…I, uh…”
“It’s okay.” I’d forgive just about anything right now.
Christopher’s calculating gaze moves b
etween Carlos and me. “Okay, but you have pay for Landon’s present.”
Carlos shakes his head. “Nice try, kid. Remember what Mom said. Presents mean more when you pay for them and pick them out.”
“That’s true.” I jump in before Christopher can protest. “My favorite presents are surprises from my friends, ones they picked out just for me.”
Christopher’s shoulders slump, but he turns back to the overflowing display shelves with a new mission. Carlos and I smile at each other and he steps close, his gaze sweeping over me from head to toe. The energy between us shifts, and blood thunders through my veins.
“Not the best place to break the rules,” he says, his voice low. “Unfortunately.” He glances at his brother, then back at me.
“I’ll take a raincheck.”
That earns me both the dimples, and I take a mental picture because I don’t want to ever forget the way he’s looking at me right now.
…
As the con winds down for the night, Elijah, Alisha, Carlos, and I walk the downtown streets, surrounded by laughing and yelling cosplayers and other Saturday night partiers. I texted Lexi hours ago to tell her I had another ride home. She sent back an entire paragraph of emojis letting me know exactly how she hoped I’d spend my evening.
“We’re parked down here,” Carlos says as we stop at corner and wait for the walk light. “Catch you guys later.” He and Elijah do the bro dude hug, while Alisha hugs me.
“Cold?” he asks.
I am sort of cold in my thin Qa’hr shirt. A cool breeze has moved in, making me shiver. His eyes are as melty as that day at his restaurant. He wraps an arm around my shoulder and pulls me in close.
Omigod. Is this really happening? I glance up at him and notice the chin stubble in the glow of the streetlight. Why am I so obsessed with this? Probably because I’ve never kissed someone with actual man stubble before. That afternoon in the park he was clean-shaven. Not that he’s going to kiss me again. I mean, I hope like crazy he will, but—
“Laurel?” We’ve stopped walking and he’s staring down at me.
I meet his intense gaze. “Yes?”
He pulls my body around so that I’m pressed against him, wrapping me in his arms. “I have a lot to say. But I don’t want to mess it up.” He glances up at the dark high-rise buildings surrounding us and his grip on me tightens.
“I’ve spent all summer trying not to break the rules. But then I did, because I wanted to. And then that crazy Twitter stuff happened, and I freaked out. I worried I’d get fired, that I’d lose my chance to help my family.” He looks down, his eyelashes brushing his cheeks. “And I was confused…honestly, I was jealous. About Jason.” He sighs. “I’m sorry. For pulling away from you, and for not trusting you about Jason.” He tucks a stray curl behind my ear. “Jason’s a good guy. His dad situation sucks. I can’t even imagine it.”
“I know.” My voice is soft. “You and I have great dads.” I reach up to touch his stubbled jaw, and his arms tighten around me. “I forgive you for your temporary jerkiness. 99 percent of the time you’re pretty amazing.”
“I am?”
“Like you don’t know that.” I run my finger along his jawline to his throat. I feel his Adam’s apple as he swallows. “But I should remind you—I’m the boss’s daughter and technically off-limits for three more weeks.” He starts to speak but I keep going. “It’s why I pulled away after that park kiss. You could be disqualified if anyone knew we—”
He touches a finger to my lips.
“I don’t care whose daughter you are, or how many days I’m supposed to stay away from you.” His hands slide up my back, over my shoulders, and when his fingers slide into my hair, my bones melt. “I practiced a whole speech for you, Qa’hr. Princess Leia. Whoever you are tonight.” His eyes are as dark as the sky above us. “But I can’t remember any of it right now.”
“You know what’s better than speeches?”
“What?”
“Kissing,” I whisper recklessly, “and I already know you’re good at that.”
And then Qa’hr takes over—or maybe it’s me. Somebody does. Someone pulls his head down and presses his lips to mine and feels the planet start to spin…and then I forget to think about who’s doing what because all I can feel and taste is Carlos.
Yeah, he’s definitely skilled at kissing. Expert level, in fact. And the stubble? It’s kind of scratchy but I like it. After a long, long time, we pull apart.
“Wow,” Carlos breathes.
“Yeah. Wow.”
Carlos reaches around to his back pocket, then hands me something small and plastic. It’s the Rey figurine from earlier. “Don’t hide her in a drawer.”
“I won’t.” I squeeze my fingers around the best present ever.
I wonder if my smile could light up all of downtown Denver, but I don’t get the chance to find out because suddenly we’re kissing again, and my mouth has much better things to do than smile.
Twenty-Four
It’s here: the final day of the internship. The interns gave their individual presentations to the Emergent executives, their mentors, and Cal Stockwell, since he’s funding a chunk of the scholarship. Trish and I sat together since she’s not competing. Everyone did well, each presentation reflecting their individual personalities and goals. Now the executives are huddled in the conference room to vote.
The interns went to the corner bakery for a sugar hit, but Trish and I are in the sky box, going over our plan one last time.
“Ready?” Trish asks.
I glance over my shoulder. No more spying on Carlos from across the room, or laughing at silly faces from Elijah. No more shy smiles from Jason. No more eye rolls from Trish, or observing Ashley’s lip gloss application.
“Showtime.” I raise my palm and Trish high-fives me. We march down both flights of stairs, across the lobby, and to the conference room, united in our mission.
Ms. Romero doesn’t even try to stop us as we burst into Dad’s office. I think she secretly likes it. Dad, Ms. Simmons, the Manicotti, and Cal Stockwell gape at us. My dad, in particular, looks ready to blow.
“I hope you didn’t start without us.”
“What are you doing here? You said you weren’t voting.” Dad levels me with the Vader glare. “You told me you have a conflict of interest.”
I did tell him that, but I’d refused to reveal the specifics of my “conflict.”
“I’m not voting, but you wanted feedback on the interns. A peer review, right?” I glance at Trish, whose expression is fierce and determined. She stares down her own dad. “Trish and I spent a lot of time with the interns and we think you should hear what we have to say before you vote. Also, at the beginning of summer you said I had two votes. I’m giving them to Trish.”
Dad scrubs a hand down his face, but Ms. Simmons’s eyes flash with interest. Cal Stockwell’s expression is inscrutable. To my surprise, Mr. Mantoni looks almost…pleased.
“Let’s hear it.” Mr. Mantoni’s words startle me. Ms. Simmons nods, and my dad and Cal Stockwell shrug in defeat.
“Okay.” I take two deep breaths, like Trish coached me. “They all deserve to win.” I glance at Trish, who nods encouragingly. “Every one of them needs the money.” I meet my dad’s appraising gaze. “They all worked hard this summer. And put up with a lot.” I side-eye Mr. Mantoni, who squints behind his glasses.
“You wanted us to become a team,” Trish says. “And we did.” She turns to Cal Stockwell. “Together we figured out who was sabotaging you, and Emergent.”
“That’s true, but—” my dad begins, but Trish puts up a hand to stop him.
“I couldn’t stand any of the interns the first week,” Trish continues. “Especially Laurel.”
“The feeling was mutual.” We grin at each other. The executives look stunned.
“But I changed my mind about Laurel. Not just her. I thought Jason was an idiot, but he’s not. He’s brave. Every single day, he’s braver than I will ever be.�
�
“And I thought Ashley was a ditzy blonde.” I clear my throat, telling myself not to be intimated by Ms. Simmons’s frown, or my dad’s scary eyebrows. “But she’s smart, and thoughtful. She doesn’t have the support at home that Trish and I do, yet she holds on to her dreams.”
“I disliked Elijah the least, at first.” Trish grasps her spider pendant, so I know she’s more nervous than she appears. “I wondered why he was even here in his designer duds.” She swallows. “Now I know.” Trish shoots her dad a look that would make me whimper. “He’s brilliant, Dad. And funny. He’s the heart of his family.”
My turn. I take a deep breath. “I, um, wasn’t sure about Carlos at first.” I can’t look at Trish. “I thought he was sort of arrogant. But then I got to know him…and his family.” My dad’s gaze sharpens, but I keep going. “He’s a remarkable guy. His whole internship was focused on helping his family, not his own college plans.”
I make eye contact with Cal Stockwell, whose facial muscles are on lockdown.
“You know how it is on a team, Mr. Stockwell.” I wait for a reaction from him, but I get nothing. “Teammates don’t always like each other, but the more they train and compete together, the tighter they get.” I dart a quick smile at Trish. “Unexpected allies team up.”
“Word.” She reaches out to fist-bump me.
My dad sighs and runs a hand through his movie star hair. “All right, we get the message. You’re all one big happy family now. And that’s great—really, it is.” He glances at Mr. Mantoni, whose attention is fixated on Trish. Something is brewing behind those beady eyes, but I can’t tell if it’s good or bad.
Dad clears his throat. “But we have to choose a winner.” His gaze softens as he studies me. “You know that, honey. You’ve known all summer.”
Trish turns to me, desperation in her eyes.
“You’re offering a one-hundred-thousand-dollar scholarship.” My fingernails dig into my palms. “That’s a lot of money.” My knees are trembling, but I keep going. “Why not give each of them twenty-five thousand?”
“I second that,” Trish says. “With both my votes.”
Dad blinks in surprise. Mr. Mantoni and Ms. Simmons exchange confused glances. Cal Stockwell is a frozen statue.
Spies, Lies, and Allies Page 30
