He was the first guy to tell me he loved me, that he didn’t want to live without me, that we were meant to be.
And I fucking believed him. I trusted him. I loved him. He was my first long-term boyfriend, and finding out I’d been used caused all the confidence I’d gained since high school to crash and burn into a pile of oblivion, not to resurface until adulthood. Hell, I’m still trying to get some of it back, still trying to have faith in the people of the world not to bend me over and screw me in the ass with no lube.
I take a breath, drop the straw wrapper, and look up at Ben. “This guy, Micah, I was dating convinced me to hack into the grade book and save him from failing pretty much all his classes.” Ben doesn’t say anything. His face is neutral and he patiently waits for me to keep going. “It was untraceable, but one professor noticed his grade went from a 48% to an 84%. And then something was said and the other professors noticed and called Micah out on it. He didn’t even hesitate to tell them I did it.”
I run my finger down the outside of the plastic coffee cup, collecting condensation on my finger. “The dean and the head of the tech department were actually impressed at my hacking skills—they didn’t word it that way though—and were disappointed I did something so stupid my last year. They let me transfer my credits instead of kicking me out. Hence the degree from the local college. I was young, and I made the mistake of believing Micah when he said he loved me. Live and learn, right?”
A few seconds of silence tick by. Then Ben reaches out and puts his hand on mine. “You’re a hacker?”
I tip my head up. “Only by night.”
Ben chuckles. “That is impressive, actually.”
“You’re one of the few to think so,” I say. “But thanks. It fucking sucked, but I was, and maybe still am, a little proud of being able to get into the system.”
“Have you hacked other sites before?” he asks.
“Maybe,” I say. “But I never really did anything bad like that again. I swore to use my superpowers only for good after that. A few were just to see if I could do it. And once was to change my best friend’s ex-boyfriend’s Facebook page. But I don’t consider that really a hack. It’s so easy.”
“I don’t know how to do it,” he tells me and leans back in his chair.
“Not many people do,” I say. “Which is good.” I shrug. “Cybercrime is still a crime, ya know? I don’t want to get caught—again—and screw myself again. I got lucky with MIT. I probably won’t get lucky again.” I wipe the condensation from my cup. “So … that’s the story.”
“It’s not that bad of a story,” he says and puts his hand on mine. “And I think it’s fair to say you went to MIT. You said you were one semester away from graduating?”
“Ugh, yes. I can’t bring this up to my parents yet either. They’re still pissed at me.”
“I’d still consider you an MIT graduate, even though you lack the degree.”
“All I had left was one core class and electives. It would have been the easiest semester ever. But oh well, right? I made a bad choice, let someone convince me to do something I shouldn’t have, and learned the hard way. Dwelling isn’t going to change that.”
“Right. You have to move on or live in agony.”
“Exactly. Yeah, I regret it, but whatever. Every mistake made me who I am, and all that shit.”
Ben chuckles and laces his fingers through mine. His eyes sparkle and he opens his mouth to stay something when our food comes. We dig in, eating a few bites in silence before speaking.
“Did you and Mindy have a falling out?” he asks. “She seems to be holding a grudge against you, and I don’t know why.”
I shake my head and push my fork through the crispy crust of the veggie pot pie. “We were never friends.” I flick my eyes to Ben, and I’m shocked at how not self-conscious I feel. Thinking about my glory days as a teen usually zap me back to feeling like crap faster than the TARDIS can leave an exploding planet.
But not right now.
Because right now I’m having lunch with this gorgeous guy who’s looking at me like I’m his favorite person in the whole world. And maybe Mindy fucking Abraham can still make me feel like dog poo on the bottom of her expensive shoe with one belittling glare, but I don’t have to cower and let myself stink like shit this time around.
“I really don’t know why she didn’t like me then, or why she still cares now. She moved to our town our sophomore year and just needed someone to pick on, I guess.” I take a bite of food and sigh, feeling my give-a-damns go out the window. “She became the Regina George of our school in just weeks, and everyone flocked all over her. You know those types.” I shrug. “But that was years ago, and she’s never grown up, never moved on.” The realization crashed down on me as I speak. “Being the queen bee of high school was her peak. It’s kinda sad when you think about it.”