by Lauren Helms
Cameron smirks at my reply, but when I look at Zella, she’s twisting her finger in her hair and is wearing a tiny frown.
Damn it. That does not bode well for me. "Does that bother you?" I'd rather get this out of the way now.
Her eyebrows dip. "No, but I have a question."
"Shoot."
She bites her lip, pondering what she's about to ask. "Would you be able to hack your way into some closed adoption files and find out who someone's birth parents are?"
Well, I wasn't expecting that. I blink a moment. "Whose parents?" I cut my gaze at Cam; his mouth is slightly agape and he's looking at her with sympathy.
She looks down at her fingers, sitting on the table. I can barely hear her when she says, "Mine."
I clear my throat but don't break my eye contact. "Okay." I drag out the word.
Zella heaves a heavy sigh. "I recently found out I was adopted, and I'd like to know who my birth parents are. I don't know if I want to meet them, but I want to know they exist. Or that they at least did at one time."
Fair enough. But I have questions. "How did you find out?"
I was applying for a passport, and I needed my birth certificate. I didn't notice it at first, but the issue date was nearly a year after I was born."
Next to her, Cameron grumbles and shakes his head, "God damn passport."
Zella glances at him, smiles sadly, then continues on. "I did some digging and found out the only real reason this would occur is if something changes on your certificate, such as the change of parents in case of an adoption. Arming myself with knowledge, I confronted my mother about it, and after she realized lying to me wasn't going to work anymore, she finally told me the truth. She adopted me when I was nine months old."
"Does she not know anything about your birth parents?" I wonder how Zella managed to turn out so sweet when raised by someone who seems so controlling and very honest. After hearing muttered comments from Cam, it sounds like she was also overprotective and not extremely supportive.
"She said it was a closed adoption. That she has zero information on them."
Cameron rolls his eyes and crosses his arms.
I lift an eyebrow and look at him. "You think differently?"
"Yeah, her mom's a piece of work. It wouldn't surprise me if she had names." I nod.
Zella sighs. "Anyway, I was just wondering, since you have the skills, is that something you could figure out. I would pay you, of course."
I reach up and scrub a hand down my chin. "Look, Blondie, I want to help you, I really do, but hacking into government servers, that's risky." I'm going with complete honesty here.
Cameron lifts his eyebrows and mutters, "Right."
So, for good measure, I add, "Risky, but I could do it. It wouldn't be easy; there are a lot of steps, and it wouldn't be a quick hack. The government is extremely protected, and not to mention, how much trouble I'd get into if I were caught. The job would also be expensive, and I wouldn't want to charge you for it."
"How noble of you," Cameron bites out.
"Stop, Cam." Zella shoots him a glare. "I understand, Ryker. I didn't realize it was so risky. It all makes sense though."
I feel bad. Real bad. Everything in me is telling me to throw caution to the wind and do this for her. "I could do some digging. Maybe you have rights as an adoptee to information."
This has her perk up a bit. "Really?"
"Yeah, let me see what I can do. What's your birth date, and what was the state your birth certificate filed in?" I really don't know much about her at all.
"February sixth, two thousand. Mississippi. Solitude, to be exact."
I jot the date and town down on the corner of my study guide.
"It's a rather fitting name for the place," Cameron adds.
Cocking a brow, I get more intel on Cameron and Zella's relationship. "And you've been there?"
"Born and raised," is all he offers.
So, they grew up together. "Ah, so you two." I wave my pen between the two of them.
Zella blushes, and Cameron chuckles and answers, "Best friends since seven."
I eye Cam. Who has a female best friend for that long and doesn't want to bang her? He reads my mind because he leans back in his chair and smirks.
Zella clears things up. "Yup. Best friends right here. I love him like my brother."
Hmm. My skepticism was enough for her to read since she feels like she has to reassure me. Cameron, though, his expression never changes at her brother comment. So maybe he does only see her as a friend.
Cameron breaks the awkward moment. "Well, this has been fun, but I need to run."
"Yeah, I've got dinner plans with my roommate, Milani." Zella says as if she had forgotten about her plans.
I shut my laptop and gather my things along with Zella and Cam. Zella stands and slips on her light purple ballet flats. I've started to notice the girl prefers to be barefoot.
We are quiet as we file out of the study room. Cameron chats with Zella about nothing of importance as we take the elevator down to the first floor and leave the library. Once outside the building, Zella catches my arm as I turn to walk in the opposite direction.
Looking down at her tiny hand wrapped around the crook of my elbow causes me to pause and wonder what it would be like to have her in my arms. I pull my eyes to her face, and I'm greeted with that amazingly sweet smile of hers.
"Hey, whatever you find will be more than what I have now, so thank you. And don't sweat it if you can't find anything at all. Maybe, it was just meant to be—me never knowing them." Her smile turns sad, and I immediately fight off the urge to tell her I'll find her parents.
I bite my tongue because the last thing I want to do is promise something I can't deliver. So, I go with, "I'll do what I can, Zella."
There's no way around it. I know I'll be spending my night and next several days trying to find out as much as I can about Zella's parents.
7
Zella
"Remember, as you come in, please find your test from last week. If you don't pick it up, the grade won't change. It's already been entered in the grade book," the prof tells us as we all file into the room. We had our first Western Culture and Humanities test last week, and while I thought it was pretty easy, Wells and Cameron did not. I'm guessing, due to Ryker's blasé attitude toward it, that it was hard for him too.
Before taking the test, we were instructed to fold it in half, write our names on the back upper corner, which now makes sense as I can see all our tests piled up on the desk, in the folded form.
"A-F is in on the desk to the left. G-N on my desk and O-Z on the podium. Please be quick about it, people," the prof yells again.
I quickly look through the stack and find my test. As I climb the stairs to our normal seats, I open up my test and see a neatly written "A" in the corner. I smile. All in a day's work. Both Cameron and Wells follow behind me as we find out seats and sit.
"So, how'd you do, boys?"
"Meh, C plus," Wells grumbles.
Cameron shows me his test, and I'm happy to see a B minus.
I pat him on the back. "Nice job, Cameron."
Just then, Ryker shoves into the row in front of Cameron and me and folds himself into the seat next to Wells.
"What about you? How did you do, Ryker?" Cameron asks.
Ryker casually shrugs a shoulder. He opens up his test to see his grade. His facial expression doesn't change when he says, "Fine."
I can't tell if it's the truth or if he's just playing it off.
The prof calls the class to order, and Ryker and Wells turn forward. I pull out my notebook and pen, and as I look up toward the front of the room, I catch a glimpse of Ryker's test. The way it sits on the tiny desk in front of him leaves a gap between the folded pages. In red ink, I see a "D".
Bummer. I knew he was struggling during our study session, but I didn't realize it was that bad. I wonder if he'd take my help if I offered to tutor him. This stuff is easy, so helping him
catch up would be easy.
Right then, I make a decision to offer my help next time we are together.
Later that evening, after eating dinner with the guys. Cameron heads off to Atlantica Athletic Center, and Wells, to meet Louisa.
Ryker walks me home. He’s unusually quiet tonight, and I wonder if his grade has got him down.
"Hey, so I accidentally saw what you got on your test." I give him a shy smile. It was an accident, but I was curious.
He grins down at me. "Oh yeah, an accident, huh? Nosy much?" He bumps the side of his arm into mine, and I know he doesn't really care that I saw.
"Yeah. I wanted to tell you that if you are interested, I'd happily be willing to help you get caught up." Please say yes, please say yes.
"Is that so?" He looks away from me and focuses on the path in front of us.
"Culture and Humanities is kind of my wheelhouse." I don't care; I'll toot my own horn. Especially when it gets him to smile. "I could help you in exchange for finding info on my parents. I'd be happy with any kind of information you could find me."
My hopes are high, but he's still looking forward and not at me.
This isn't going to go my way.
He twists his lips as he considers his words. "Look, Blondie, your offer is appreciated, but I don't need help. I can pull things around on my own."
My hope deflates like a day-old balloon. I wanted to help him, but I also wanted an excuse to spend time with him, alone.
"Hey." He chuckles as he slows our pace to stop. "That's the saddest look I've seen all day." When he turns toward me, his normal, easy-going smirk is back. "Are you sad because you don't get to teach someone all you know about extremely boring humanities stuff or that you don't get to spend one-on-one time with yours truly?" He leans down a little as he's so much taller than me. "Cause I gotta tell ya, if you want some one-on-one time, all you gotta do is ask."
I've done a good job at mastering not blushing at everything he says. At this moment, it's taking everything in me to fight the smolder.
I give him my sweetest smile. "No, I just felt bad for you and that lonely D." I wink at him and start walking again. I leave him chuckling behind me. Seconds later, he catches up with me. "You sure are fun, Blondie."
I momentarily tuck my chin into my shoulder while I hide my pleased smile.
"Oh, I did want to tell you, I have actually been looking into your birth parents. I don't have a lot of information, but I'm getting there."
I stumble to a halt at his words. I can't believe it. He might actually find them. I know he said he was just looking into things, but I currently have nothing to go on, so whatever he finds will be amazing. "Really?" I squeak.
"Really, really." The smile on his face is so authentic, I can't stop myself. I jump into his unsuspecting arms and hug him.
I repeatedly thank him, and when I finally start to pull away from him, I realize he's holding me up. I'm a good eight inches shorter than him, so my feet aren't even touching the ground.
I look at his face, and all I see is warmth. I can see it on his face; molten heat fills his eyes, and I can tell that this moment means as much to him as it does me. Not only can I see it, but I can also feel the lust as if it’s dripping off him. A million tiny tingles scatter themselves throughout my body, the sliver of space between us sparks with want. I can feel my body lean closer. He glances down at my lips, and on impulse, I bite the corner of my bottom lip.
"Geez, Blondie, remind me to tell you good news more often." He wiggles his eyebrows.
If I weren’t already in his arms, I'd swoon.
But the trance is broken as he slowly lets me drop back to the ground. A thought crosses my mind: I've been wanting to ask him to be my date to the Glass Ball.
I'm feeling lucky, so I press my luck.
"So, that ball the school has… I was thinking I'd really like to go. I've never been to a dance or a fancy event. Would you maybe, want to go with me?" My heart pounds in my chest as I draw out the words.
His lips press together in a slight grimace. He leans back on his heels, putting enough space between us to make it feel like a mile.
My luck just ran out. I turn and start to skulk toward the Lofts. He walks with me though, the awkwardness of the moment lingering heavily between us.
"Zella," he starts, but I interrupt him. There's no need for him to let me down easy. I'll just act like it's not a big deal.
It's totally a big deal. I'm so embarrassed.
"You know what? Actually, I think I'm busy that weekend anyway, so don't worry about it. No biggie. Forget I even mentioned it." A shrill of nervous laughter erupts from my throat.
"Blondie, hold up." He reaches for my arm to stop me. My forward movement stops, but I don't twist and look at him. I steady myself, shut my eyes, and take a breath. Then I'm ready; I plaster a smile as big as Texas on my face and look at him.
He scratches his neck, clearly conflicted.
"Fancy events, ball or whatever, aren't really my thing." His eyes are full of remorse, like maybe he wishes they were.
"Oh, no, totes it’s fine. Really," I chirp and wave away the problem with my hand.
"Don't be embarrassed." He's all cool, and I know he's not mocking me right now, but I don't appreciate being called out. Forget embarrassed, now I'm downright annoyed.
"You know what? Actually, this is good. There is this guy in my graphic design class, he mentioned it, so I'll ask him." There's no guy in my graphics design class. Well, there are several, but none I'd want to go out with.
Ryker's jaw ticks at my words. "I thought you just said you were busy that weekend," he bites out.
"Oh, yeah. Well, I'll check my calendar." I shrug my shoulder then force a little bounce in my step and keep on walking. He's quiet but remains by my side. A few short minutes later, we arrive at The Lofts. Ryker puts a hand on my arm, right as I pull out my key card to unlock the door to the building. I look at him over my shoulder.
"I'll think about it. Don't make any rash decisions." His hand drops, and he turns away, clearly not heading back to his room.
I step inside and let the door close behind me.
I don't know how to take his parting words. I don't want to get my hopes up, but I can't really count it a fail. It feels like a maybe, which is always better than a no.
I should be ashamed at how crazy I just acted, but I'm not. I can't fight off the smile as I head up to my suite.
8
Ryker
I carefully open the tower door, then peek in, diverting my eyes to the window Zella normally occupies. But it's empty. I step fully into the room and close the door behind me.
Damn.
I was really hoping she was going to be here. I didn't come up here today to see Zella, but to get the new server password. It would have been a perk had she been here though. I slide my bag onto the empty desk and move to the window with the best view of Cannon's office. I quickly snap a picture and put my phone and monocular into the side pocket of my bag, my focus stuck on her window. I call it 'hers' because there's one of those square, decorative pillows in the windowsill. My lips turn up in a smile. She's made this place her own.
Walking over to the window, I look out to the courtyard and run my fingers over the sequined edge of the pillow. To see what she sees. Why does she love looking out across the campus? Watching all the students go about their day can’t be that exciting.
The woman has me in knots. She's got me spending all my free time looking into her family, not to mention this whole, do I take her to the ball or not matter. The thought of her asking some art geek to the ball grates on my nerves. I don't want to think about this dude with his arms around her, dancing so close to her that he can feel the heat of her breath on his cheek. No, it should be me, I should be the one holding her and by her side when she experiences a fancy event for the first time.
On the flip side, the thought of a tux makes my neck itch. There’s only one jacket I will wear, my brown leather
one, which is not fit for a black-tie affair such as the Glass Ball. Being fancy as fuck isn’t my scene.
Zella makes me do things I shouldn't, like this search for her biological parents. It's taking up all my time. So much so, that it was ultimately the nail in the coffin for me not taking the CamU bank account job.
My contact wasn't thrilled when I turned it down. He even offered to up the payout. Shit, the money was so fucking tempting. It really was. I did some research, and in the end, I was only about eighty-five percent sure I would have been able to pull off the job without a hitch. Had I taken the job, I would have done my due diligence and made sure I felt one hundred and ten percent sure beforehand, but the money wasn't enough to sway me.
I've been straddling the line for a few years now. Breaking the law just a little, and I've been okay with that. Until recently. I'll graduate eventually, and I'll have to decide: real-world, law-abiding job, or hacker. Not saying I can't do all three, but a decision will need to be made. Truth be told, the past couple of weeks, trying to find Zella's parents, made me realize using my skills to help feels pretty fucking good.
Not that I want to put on my white hat anytime soon, but I know there are jobs out there, for those who have my skill set, that don't involve breaking the law. But for now, I'll sit here with my gray hat on and continue to straddle the line of good and bad intentions.
For the moment, I'm on the good side. For Zella. I've almost cracked the missing link: the names and location of her birth parents. I'm trying not to rush my way through the process. What I'm doing leaves no room for error, but I can't help but imagine her reaction when I tell her I've found them.
I was telling her the truth that first day when I said this job would be risky. Fucking-A, it is risky. The shit I had to do to find her biological parents was intense. To be clear, I was stealthy and on the top of my game. The riskier the job, the greater the high, that's for sure.
