Loving Lindsey (An American Dream Love Story Book 2)

by Josephine Parker

  Zach met her gaze for a moment, growing increasingly uncomfortable beneath her stare. He looked out beyond her shoulder and saw a diversion. “President Sanders!” Zach called out.

  Zach watched as the president of the university turned around in circles, looking left, then right, trying to pinpoint where the voice had come from. When he saw Zach waving at him, a wide grin spread beneath his whiskers. He waddled over on his wooden cane and turned directly to Zach.

  “Professor Wheeler! Good to see you, sir,” he said, patting Zach on the shoulder. “And you, Dean,” he said with a sideways glance.

  “I assume you’ve seen the fund-raising roster?” Dean Cruz asked the president. “Fifteen percent higher than last fall already.”

  “Yes, yes,” the president mumbled. “Very impressive.” He coughed. “I noticed,” he said, looking around, “that you took the liberty of inviting some of your donors to my tea. I must say, that is…bold, Dean Cruz.”

  “Our contributors are business people,” she answered blithely. “They want to see a return on their investment. Introducing them to our young talent is just the type of exposure that will increase their contributions.”

  “We’ve already hit our goals this year,” the president said, “why not leave the students this one space to thrive without scrutiny, hmm?”

  The dean let out a clipped laugh, as if a tiny bird was trying to escape from her throat. “I know the education of our bright young minds is paramount to you, President Sanders, but fund raising is my domain. We have a valuable commodity to offer our contributors, whether that be taking credit for new innovation or putting their name on a building.”

  “Maybe they just want to support good work,” Zach blurted, his blood pressure rising. “Maybe people just want to—”

  “That is a nice idea,” interrupted the dean. “If only the world worked that way. Lucky for the university, I do the fund raising. You stick to the research.”

  Zach felt the muscles in his neck tense as the dean raised an eyebrow and glared at him. Zach turned back toward President Sanders, hoping for a reprieve, but he had already lost interest in the conversation, his eyes wandering to the far corners of the room. Zach took his phone out of his pocket. “I have to take this,” he said, pretending it had been buzzing. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  Zach made his way up to a stone patio. The farther he got from the dean, the better he felt. He took a look down at the courtyard and the many faces meandering by with drinks in their hands. To Zach’s dismay, it was only about half students. He watched as groups of business people gathered in small circles, shaking hands and gossiping over their free cheese and cocktails. Zach squeezed his eyes together and took a breath. Twenty years in academia and he still hated these functions. He reminded himself it was the nature of the beast. His research didn’t pay for itself, after all.

  As he opened his eyes again, he saw three familiar students wave in his direction. They were each blond, with a penchant for staring and twirling their hair. He wondered if they had actually gotten an invitation to the President’s Tea…or if they were crashing, as usual. Fashion students didn’t usually attend science events. At least this time they hadn’t cornered him. He put his phone to his ear and turned away as he dialed.

  “Hey, bro,” his brother, Sam, answered on the third ring.

  “Save me.”

  “Oh, no. Not another campus event you need to sneak away from?”

  Zach groaned. “You nailed it. These people make my skin crawl. If I could just stay in the lab and never have to deal with people, I’d be happy.”

  “Why don’t you?”

  “Politics. Plus, I had a new student that was supposed to be here. She was a no-show.”

  “Wow. You can pick ‘em. Sounds like your love life.”

  “Very funny. Not all of us want to be a lothario, Samuel.”

  “Don’t knock it till you try it.” He laughed. “Besides, aren’t you surrounded by twenty-year old hotties? You could use the old professor-student logic. Teach them something valuable they can take out into the world. You’d like that.”

  Zach looked back at the three fashion students, their eyes still cutting his way. One was actually pulling her cocktail straw in and out of her mouth as she smiled. “Not my style,” he said. “I don’t have time for that anyway.”

  “I know, I know, all you care about is saving the world in your own geeky way. But seriously, even you have to blow off some steam now and then.”

  “If I hurry, I can still make it out to row tonight before it’s totally dark.”

  “Rowing? Seriously?” He heard his brother exhale. “Zachary, listen to me, life goes by in a snap. You are going to miss it. You row every morning on that stupid river. Tonight, go out and get laid.”

  Zach smiled. That was his brother’s solution to everything. Sometimes he wished things could be that simple. “Nah, I appreciate the advice though.”

  “Okay, Zach. Do your thing. By the way, I’ll be out on a case for a few weeks. Don’t be worried if I don’t answer your calls for a while.”

  “Top secret, again?”

  “Like always.”

  “Okay, Sam. Be safe.”

  They hung up and Zach looked over the courtyard and the shadows that began to stretch across the patio in the dimming light. He ditched his cocktail and darted toward the entrance. Lindsey’s name-tag still sat unmoved on the table. He turned and scanned the room; almost everyone was gone. He felt a sudden surge of panic. What if she had changed her mind? He was close to creating a code that would change the world and Lindsey Monahan might be the missing piece that could make his dream a reality…before the dean pulled his funding for good. He had to find her.

  If it wasn’t too late, he might be able to catch someone at Campus Housing that could tell him which dorm they had put her in. He lurched forward and began to sprint out of the Tea and across the quad.

  Chapter 3: Lindsey

  Lindsey tucked her short hair behind her ears and leaned against a warm stone wall outside the pavilion to catch her breath. Bending to the side, she tried in vain to dust some of the dirt from her bare feet before forcing her high heels back on. Hobble in and smile, she told herself. “Hello, I’m Lindsey Monahan,” she murmured, practicing for the hundredth time as she rounded the side of the building to enter the Pavilion. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the warm, afternoon glow that bounced off the water, bathing the courtyard in a soft, pink haze. Her eyes darted back and forth; everyone was gone.

  “Dammit, Lindsey,” she cursed, wincing as she made her way to a nearby chair. She pried off the two torture devices stuck to her feet and felt the skin on her heels swell as they hit the open air.

  She tried to let the warmth of the setting sun dry the tears welling behind her eyes. Clearly, she sucked at first impressions. If only the world was like code, she thought, then she could go back and rewrite this whole day. She would be confident, beautiful, brilliant…and on time. Her breath caught in her throat as she warmed to the fantasy, and again, she rewound to the beginning and practiced uselessly what she would have said, and who she would have met, when she suddenly heard giggling to her right. She opened one eye and peeked sideways toward the sound.

  Three college aged girls were gathered around a side table, all dropping their weight onto one hip in a perfect expression of boredom. Their blond hair and outfits were impeccable and effortless, as if they were in competition for who could be the most girly-girl ever. One held a giant silver flask with both tiny hands as another deftly poured the half empty wine bottles from the catering table into it. The third was wrapping bits of cheese in a napkin and shoving it in her purse. “Hurry up, you guys,” shrieked the third. “The cleaning crew is coming!”

  “Calm down, Heather,” said the first, looking over to a group of workers in coveralls walking across the quad. “Like these people care if we swipe university leftovers.”

  “Oh,” said the second, also looking at the crew. “L
eave some for them. I bet they make shit money.”

  As the third girl scanned the room, she caught Lindsey’s eye and stopped. “Hold up. We may have a problem.”

  All three turn toward Lindsey and stared at her with their over-sized eyes. Lindsey sat up and tucked in her feet. She must look a mess.

  One of the three raised her head in a nod. “Hi there,” she offered, “you here for the Tea?”

  “Yes,” Lindsey called back, curling her bare toes further beneath her chair. “But I guess I missed it.”

  “You just got here?” asked girl number two. “Then, yeah. You totally missed it.”

  “Yeah,” agreed girl number three.

  “Stop,” said Heather, raising her hand. “You didn’t miss anything. It was heinous.” She hesitated. “You a student…or a teacher?”

  “Who, me?” asked Lindsey. “I’m a student. Kind of.”

  Heather looked her over then shrugged as if the whole conversation was becoming too boring. “Well, the only good thing about these stupid teas is that there’s free wine and cheese to help us kick off our Friday night party.”

  “Pre-party, bitches!” called out girl number two, holding up her fist for a bump that never came.

  “What are you studying?” Girl number three asked Lindsey.

  “Um, I’m working on a special project…at the computer lab.”

  “Ooh!” cried out girl number two, “do you have Professor Wheeler?” The other two girls snapped their necks back toward the conversation.

  “Yeah. Guess I missed him.” Lindsey shrugged. “Bonehead move.”

  The three gathered up the rest of their haul and made their way over to Lindsey, ready to talk. Each had her own perfectly styled hair and makeup, looking more like they were on a trip to Vegas than a campus Tea. They were each adorable in a sexy kind of way that left Lindsey both impressed and perplexed. She vaguely thought she would need a scuba tank to breath in any one of their outfits.

  Heather stepped toward Lindsey and leveled a look at her as if she was going to say something epically important. “I’m Heather,” she said. “This is Brie, and that’s Taylor.” The other girls nodded at Lindsey, then looked back at Heather, who shot her hand in the air like she was about to yell hallelujah! “Wheeler,” she said, “is hot.”

  “Hot!” agreed Brie.

  “Smoking,” added Taylor.

  “He’s the only thing pretty enough to look at on the faculty,” Heather continued. “But don’t even bother. All the girls have tried.”

  “I more than tried,” added Brie. “I brought my A-game, but he still shot me down. Me!” she added, shaking her head.

  “Yeah,” chimed Taylor. “Hot, but shoots all the girls down.” She raised her hand up like a gun. “Ping! Ping! Toast. No chance.”

  “Whatevs,” said Heather. “He has a computer chip stuck up his ass. Like,” she moved her arms up and down like a robot, “no girls, no fun, does not compute.”

  The other girls laughed, then tossed their hair to signal this part of the conversation was over.

  “Anyway,” Heather turned to Lindsey, “what’s your name?”

  “Lindsey.”

  “Uh-huh,” said Heather, scanning Lindsey up and down. “You’re cute. Want to come to a frat party with us?”

  Lindsey looked back at their bored, pretty faces and felt suddenly and totally out of place. “Thanks, but I have plans.” Plans unpacking and burying my sorrows in a bag of chips, she thought to herself.

  “Okay, Lindsey,” Heather said, and all three shrugged. “Enjoy the computer lab, then.”

  Lindsey’s stomach felt suddenly hollow as she watched the three girls sway effortlessly out of the pavilion. She imagined their college days were full of fun, parties, friends, and sex. All of the things she had missed. Lindsey grabbed her shoes by the heel and made her way out into the quad.

  It was Friday night, and she could hear laughter and music playing in the distance; not so far away, she saw smiling people slicing through the crowds on bicycles, anxious to get wherever they were going. Lindsey sighed. As usual, she didn’t fit in. Maybe this was all a terrible idea.

  Lindsey pulled out her phone and called her mom. Usually, on a Friday night, the two of them would be curled up under Afghans just starting a movie. If they were really in a crazy mood, they would share a frozen cherry cheesecake eaten straight out of the box. Her call went to voice mail. What could her mom possibly be doing? She had put on a brave face this morning as Lindsey pulled away, but Lindsey knew her mom would miss her. She was probably doing laundry and couldn’t hear the phone ring.

  Lindsey hesitated, then scrolled down to Kate. It was only day one and she already needed Kate to hold her hand. Oh well, what were best friends for?

  “Hey, Kate. You around?” Lindsey texted.

  Immediately her phone lit up. “Lindz! How’s the big city? How’s your first day?”

  “Awful,” Lindsey replied. “I screwed up already. Maybe this college thing really isn’t for me.”

  There was a moment before a response popped up. “What are you talking about? Of course this is for you! You are Lindsey freaking Monahan. That university doesn’t know who it’s messing with, right?”

  Lindsey didn't respond, and a moment later her phone lit up again. “Right? Right, Lindz?”

  “Sure,” Lindsey wrote back.

  “I know this is all new,” Kate texted, “but that’s the best part! Remember, nobody there knows you! You can totally reinvent yourself. You can decide who you want to be!”

  Lindsey smiled at the screen and began to text back. “Secret agent? Famous magician?”

  “All that and more.”

  Lindsey held tightly to her phone and looked out over the flowing water of the Charles River and the newly glistening lights of the Boston skyline. Kate was right. Monday, she would be in the lab—that’s when her new life would really start. She wasn’t going to give up this easily. Tonight was her first night on her own, and she was going to enjoy herself.

  Chapter 4: Zach

  Zach stood in the doorway a moment to test the motion sensor. A red light blinked from the camera to his right as a crackling sound bit through the silence of the lab. Soft blue lights soaked the lab in a cool haze, interrupted only by the occasional click of a router or screen saver that bounced light across the floor. His eyes adjusted quickly, used to the comforting dim light of the lab more than the incandescent light that flooded the hallway outside. He let the door shut quietly behind him, scanning how each chair was positioned, each mouse. Nothing seemed to be out of place—at least, not tonight. Satisfied, he locked the heavy steel door behind him and hit the master switch on the control panel to his left.

  A pale yellow light fixture crackled to life, bathing the far corners of the room in an antiseptic, industrial light more accustomed to an aging hospital than the national epi-center of data science in the country—just the way Zach liked it.

  He took ten steps directly to the corner and placed his palm flat against a giant locked door. He could feel the vibration of the monster-sized servers crammed into the room within. He gazed down at the lock; he could see no tampering.

  Satisfied, he pulled off his jacket and made his way across the square linoleum tiles of the floor toward the door of his adjacent office. He flipped through a second set of keys, each unlocking another section of the door before it swung open to reveal the cramped, dark room within. Five blinking screens were stacked expertly atop the desk, a sliver of light bouncing through one screen then up into another.

  He threw his jacket across the back of his desk chair before plopping down into the seat and leaning back. His long legs stretched out below the desk as he raised his arms above his head. He took a deep breath and listened to the click and whir of the systems around him. Again, he inhaled, hoping he could unclench his hands and stop temptation from washing over him.

  He exhaled, and took another breath before opening his eyes and glancing at his keyboard. It
would be easy to break into the campus housing server and get the information he needed on Lindsey Monahan. Then, at least, he could get her cell and make sure she was coming to the lab Monday morning. After all, he ran all the way to their office in the stifling Boston heat, only to find they had shut the doors seven minutes early. Some people lived nine-to-five lives. Well, in this case, nine-to-4:53, apparently. He couldn’t blame them, really. It was Friday afternoon and they probably wanted to get home.

  He put the toe of his shoe decisively against the desk and pushed his chair back across the linoleum. You made the rules, he told himself, you can’t break them. No hacking.

  He twirled around in his chair and tried to relax before giving up and trudging the few steps toward his coffee maker. It sat above a mini-fridge tucked in next to a single bed, still half full with the remainder of this morning’s brew. He pulled it out and swished the waxy black liquid around in the pot, bringing it up to his nose. It smelled bitter, but like it still might get the job done. He turned the power on to warm up the remnants, then fell onto the bed and rested his feet against the wall.

  His Delta Project had made huge strides in Big Data Coding in its young four years. Just getting the project started, explaining it so other people understood it and supported it, was a miraculous endeavor. But explaining it wasn’t enough. There was a wave coming, and Zach had to get ahead of it. Information traveled through wires and satellites in a flash, and soon, the crackling terminals in his lab would be relics. Technology was charging forward. Disparate information flew through the ether, and whoever could harness those separate pieces of data, and read it in one language, would change the world forever—for better, or worse.

  As he stared at the ceiling, he noticed a water stain that had crept across the graying tile above his bed. He would get a ladder and check out the source tomorrow. He didn’t want campus engineers poking around in here.

  He sat up and looked out at the lab where an empty work station had been built just outside his door, ready for his new coder. Well, hacker was more accurate, but Lindsey Monahan was clearly an expert coder, or she never could have gotten through his game. He felt anticipation bubble in his chest as he thought about Monday morning. He murmured a silent wish that she was, in fact, the missing piece that would bring everything together.