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I smile a little, feeling the edges of my earlier tension start to ease. “You?”
“Freelancer,” she says, shrugging lightly. “Mostly ethical hacking, helping companies stress-test their systems. I like it, keeps me on my toes.”
“Nice,” I say, nodding.
“All above-board stuff, of course,” she adds hastily.
“Totally. Same.”
She smirks, biting her lip as she glances over at me. “I mean, notalwaysabove-board…”
My smile widens. “Same.”
She laughs, extending a hand. “Cain.” She rolls her eyes. “Sorry, it’s dumb, I know. But I don’t share my real name with people until I’ve known them a while. That’s my online handle.”
I smile, shaking my head. “No, I totally get it.” I take her hand and shake it. “I’m Freya. Real name. Nice to meet you, Cain.”
She grins. “Awesome to meet you, real-name-Freya. It’s so rare to run into someone who understands all of this. People usually give me weird looks when I try to explain what I do.”
I laugh, feeling the connection growing between us. “Yes! They think it’s all like the movies—some guy in a hoodie typing furiously on a laptop.”
We pause when we realize we’rebothactually wearing hoodies, and have justabsolutelybeen furiously typing on our laptops. The two of us crack up, screeching with laughter as the rest of the place looks at us like we’re nuts.
“Are you from New York?”
I shake my head. “I’m from all over. But I’m here now. You?”
“Japan,” she shrugs. “I know, the Italian accent threw you off.”
I snort. The accent iscompletelyEast Asian.
This girl is funny. I like her.
“Do you come here a lot? This is my first time here. I’m staying at a hotel close by and I needed a change of scenery.”
I nod. “Yeah, I love this place. Though I’m guessing the ramen iswaybetter in Japan.”
She makes a face. “Eh, there’s shitty food in every country.”
I grin. “Well, it’s definitely a good place to come when you need a change of scenery. That’s why I’m here tonight. Things have been…”
I trail off, frowning.
“Sorry, too much information,” I say.
“No problem,” she smiles, laughing a little. “I get it. Sometimes, you just need to get out of your head for a while.”
“Exactly,” I agree, glad she doesn’t pry.
We settle into an easy conversation after that, touching on everything from our favorite coding languages to the best laptop-friendly coffee shops in New York. It feels good to talk about something other than the mess I’ve found myself in lately. For a while, at least, I can pretend everything is normal.
But even as we talk, I can’t completely shake the feeling that there’s something lurking beneath the surface, waiting to pull me under.
A couple of hours later, after Cain and I have exchanged phone numbers and emails and said our goodbyes, I find myself walking aimlessly. The city hums around me, but the cool evening air does little to soothe the unease that’s crept back into my chest.
Meeting Cain was unexpected. But good. It’s rare to meet someone who shares the same world I do. Still, even as I replay our conversation in my mind, a part of me is restless. No matter how much I try to distract myself, my thoughts keep circling back to Mal.
Clearly, I can’t escape him. Nor can I escape the feeling that I’m being pulled into a storm that I can’t control.
