Page 13 of Wells

"As long as he keeps paying."

"As long as it makes sense." I meet his eyes and hold them.

"Okay, sister. I hear you."

I swallow, following a couple as they take the table beside us, before turning back to Locke. "He's interesting in some weird way. The whole anonymous thing makes him kind of intriguing. Getting ahead of myself, since I don't have the job, but right now I could envision doing both until it isn't sustainable."

He grins wider, and I want to throw my cup at him now.

"What?"

"You like him."

"How can you like a faceless voice that watches me touch myself? I like that he pays on time and doesn't push boundaries." I force my voice flat and ignore the excitement in my belly. "It is what it is, and there's no hidden agenda. I like that I know exactly what it is and isn't."

Every real relationship I've ever had was built on a lie. Cas told me we were soulmates, that he'd never leave. And then he walked out the same week my job did, right when I needed him to stay. My parents built our family on lies, and it tore us all apart, breaking each of us every single day.

Midnight tells me exactly what he wants and what our arrangement is. There's something refreshing, almost safe, about that kind of raw transparency.

I glare at him as he drinks and grins at me over the rim of his cup, taunting me. My chest is lighter than it has been in weeks, and I hate that I'm letting myself feel it. Hope is dangerous when rent is still real, and callbacks don't always turn into paychecks.

But it's there, anyway. A tiny spark sits under my skin and says maybe this time it works out.

"So, the job. Tell me more."

I shrug and open the top of my cup, sweeping all of the trash on the table into it. "I'd be turning cyber reports into visuals the board can actually understand. Like I said, graphic art meets corporate suits."

"Interesting. Never heard of anything like that."

"Same. Apparently, the boss is a socially awkward genius who doesn't know how to convey things to real people efficiently. It piqued my interest."

"I like it for you. It will be good for you to get out of that apartment."

"It's been a long ass three months since Cas left, so I need a change."

Locke grins and raises his cup in a mock toast. "To Cera Simum. Graphic designer. Cyber John whisperer. Future corporate sellout."

I laugh, which breaks the tension in my chest. "Shut up."

"I'm proud of you."

I let myself believe him for half a second, then stand and grab my mat bag.

"You leaving me?"

"I need a nap. I told you I was up late last night. Plus, you're wearing me out."

"Aww. You're so hard on me." He stands and swipes his empty cup to throw away before going in for a hug. "You know I only pick on you because I love you. If I didn't, that's when you should worry."

"I know."

"I'm happy for you that things seem to be working out."

"Thank you. You're just really good at identifying all my anxieties and poking them for sport. I hope you know I'm already stressing about everything."

"I don't want to stress you more. I love you, Cera Beara."

"Love you, too, Lockey-Boo."