Page 46 of One Love

“Okay, I’ll give you that. How about this…” My voice trails off as I narrow my eyes at movement in the bottom corner of the screen. “Wait…what is that?”

Glitch slides his chair along his burnished concrete floor and looks over my shoulder for a minute.

“Ah,” we both say at the same time. “Mouse.” We watch it for a while, placing bets on where it’ll go and if it’ll get into Cook’s food stash.

It’s not like he’s there often anyway, but he does go back. We’ve seen him twice. Never stays the night, just sits at his table like he’s waiting on something, then goes into his pantry, comes out with cereal. Eats. Waits some more then leaves.

My guess? He’s a fucking sociopath. But I don’t have anything to back up my diagnosis, so I wait and watch.

“We need eyes in that pantry, he fucking stares at the thing like he’s got a ghost in there.” My words are mumbled as I try to think of viable reasons for his behavior.

“Who? Cook Wright?” That’s what Glitch calls him.

“Yeah, something’s off. And I mean besides eating plain Wheaties. Who does that?” I mock shiver although the thought makes my mouth dry.

“Sociopaths, that’s who.” We fist bump without even looking at each other. Called it.

“So, you and Shadow, huh?”

I raise a brow at Glitch, throwing him a quick glance before returning to my screen.

“Pretty sure she’d make your use of condoms redundant if she knew you were asking about her private life.” As much as I appreciate Glitch, the subject of J and me is off the table.

“Technically, I’m asking about yours.” He grabs a handful of plain popcorn and chews like he’s five.

“No can do. That subject is off limits, even to you.”

Glitch chuckles, probably knowing I just saved both of our lives.

“All right, so let’s get back to this shit show, then.” Glitch turns his attention back to the wall of screens, three of which are displaying the dive bar somewhere in bumfuck Brooklyn. Nothing says “dirty deals going down” like four concrete walls and a leaky roof on a plot of dead grass and full of puking alcoholics. Lovely.

Shaking my head, I scope out the camera angles and grin when I see my little demon pointing her stick over the green velvet of the pool table. From my vintage point, it looks like she’s aiming for the two, a solid blue, into the corner pocket. The shot isn’t impossible but with the orange stripe ball encroaching on her line of sight, she’ll have to aim carefully. Which, of course, she does.

Watching her every move, I take my time appreciating how her leather pants hug every curve of her body, reminding me of what’s underneath.

Before I can stop myself—and let’s be honest, the thought never crossed my mind—I pull out my phone and send her a good luck text.

Me: Your ass looks great bent over that pool table.

“If you get a boner in my nerd cave, I will ban you.” Glitch murmurs without ever taking his eyes off the screens.

My smile is wide and earnest. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Right.” With a snort, he throws a piece of popcorn in the air and catches it like he’s been practicing that move for years. For all I know, he has.

In one corner, Glitch has an ongoingLeague of Legendsgame happening on Twitch, where he’s just a spectator tonight. We’ve got too much shit happening to be responsible for a champion but it’s always fun to watch others get their asses handed to them when it’s not your team taking the hit. The stream volumeis on low but it’s easy to make out the players screaming about protecting their Nexus and hurrying their asses to the fountain.

Fuck, I love that game. Nothing like MOBA—multiplayer online battle arena—to get your blood pumping. Well, that and a certain hot blonde in leather pants.

“Any bites on the facial rec from that picture?” When we found the picture of a much younger and less-bald Harvey Cook, we decided to dig around and find out where the others ended up. From the clothing and his aging, I’d place the photo in the mid eighties. There’s just no ignoring the neon clothing and theLike A Virgin-era Madonna T-shirt.

“Not yet. It’s taking a while to clean the grain and smooth out the creases. We should get something soon though, it’s at seventy percent now.” Glitch’s fingers are flying across his keyboard, his eyes scanning the screens and one leg bouncing up and down like he’s had ten too many coffees.

For the next hour, I continue going through the most boring fucking videos of pure nothingness, my blood pressure rising every time a fucking mouse strolls out and goes grocery shopping in Cook’s pantry.

“Look at that little prick!” At Glitch’s words, I turn in my seat, following his line of sight, and frown. As if I could change anything from where I am, I lean in closer and memorize every inch of this douchebag who’s looking at my girl like she’s his next dessert.

“Who is he?” Young, good looking in that his-balls-just-dropped-about-five-minutes-ago kind of way. Mostly, he looks naïve and if the smirk on my little demon is any indication, he’s about to get devoured and spit out faster than you can say spawn point.

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