Page 55 of Debugging Love

“I didn’t realize it was your code.”

I turn back around. He’s holding the same pose, looking so relaxed it kinda irks me. “For being smarter than an elephant, you’re not very observant.”

He looks at me funny again.

“My name is–or was–literally all over that code,” I explain.

“No. It wasn’t. It was here and there.”

“And everywhere.”

He grins. “Okay, Dr. Seuss.”

“I would prove it to you, but you already deleted it all.”

“Not all of it. Just some.”

“Half.”

Chance pushes off the island and anchors his other hand in his pocket. Now he’s looking at me, all broad-chested and sturdy, enjoying this too much. “How was I supposed to know you wrote it? I’m the new guy. Drew was just showing me the ropes.”

“If you knew it was my app, would you have deleted all my code?”

He raises his thumbs, which sends my eyes right to his tapered waist. “Probably.”

“You do realize sometimes it’s okay to leave well enough alone, right?” I force my eyes back to his face.

“Not really.”

“Didn’t think so.” I turn to leave again. This time he doesn’t stop me. “Would you like me to take your trash down to the dumpster?”

“No, I got it.”

In an instant, he’s right behind me, nearly breathing down my neck. When I open the door, he reaches over my shoulder and holds it while I pass through, giving me an ample view of that ropey forearm. “You mean, you got it right now. Like this very minute.” I steady my voice.

“Is that a problem?” His deep voice vibrates the hairs on the back of my neck, while his alpine-sweet-orbit-mint scent wraps around me, enclosing me in a little Chance bubble.

I quickly pop it and dart over to my apartment.

“See ya later,” Chance says as he manhandles his trash bag and tosses it over his shoulder.

“Later,” I say before diving inside, visions of Chance’s biceps flexing intrusively in my head.

Chapter 14

Chance

My eyes scan the parking lot through the slats of my mini blinds. I’m not hiding. I’m making sure Danni is on schedule, which she usually is. She’s been leaving at seven thirty, my preferred time, so we keep bumping into each other—her scowling at me, me trying to get hernotto scowl. I’m a sucker for a good challenge, hence my line of work.

We could both use a break, though. Therefore, I’m letting her go first today. Except she’s not going. I have a weird hunch that she’s standing in her living room peering throughhermini blinds, waiting formeto go first. Figures she’d ruin my attempt to not ruin her morning.

I imagine her snapping her blinds closed and frowning in annoyance. Our last few interactions have ended in frowns. Like the one she gives me when I accidentally kick her under the desk. Last week, she said, “Could you keep your ginormous feet away from my desk please?” To which I replied, “I can’t help my genetics.” She told me to bend my knees to make my legs shorter. I told her they were already bent.

There’s nothing wrong with my feet. They’re normal-sized feet on normal-sized legs.

I hear Danni’s apartment door slam, our face-off ending—if it was one. She clunks down the steps in a pair of thick-soled sandals with strappy ankle wraps. Her glossy hair catches the sun, makes me take notice. Before stepping into her car, she sets her pink purse on the roof and rummages through it, pulling out her phone. She taps the screen and a small smile appears on her lips.

I watch her pull out of the parking lot and allow sufficient time to pass while a bird lands on my car, takes a few steps, and then launches back into the sky. Then, I grab a frozen meal, opting for Amy’s Mattar Paneer.

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