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The thin crust pizza is out of this world, and we devour it over beers and a good conversation. Among other things, we learn each other’s ages—he’s thirty-two to my twenty-four—and when each other’s birthday is, a topic that leads into a discussion about our mutual skepticism regarding Zodiac signs.
When our dinner is done, we feed the other beasts—Oracle and Monkey.
Once our pets are happy pigs, Vlad and I cuddle on the couch and watch The Matrix. As the movie plays, I try not to think about the implications of what’s just happened and just enjoy the moment. Because if I do think about it, I will freak out.
Because I just slept with Vlad.
With my boss’s boss.
The computer will definitely crash if I go there.
Instead, I focus on the movie. We say our favorite lines together with the characters and, in some rare cases, complain about something we think could’ve been done better.
For example, why did the machines use humans as batteries when guinea pigs would’ve required a much simpler virtual reality prison to keep them content?
“I think the original reason the machines needed humans was as a computational substrate,” Vlad says. “That seemed too complex of an idea for the general public, so it was dumbed down to batteries. Or maybe it was just product placement.”
I grin at him. “I bet you’re right.”
“This always bugged me,” he says when Trinity quips the classic “Dodge this” line and shoots the agent in the head. “Given how fast the agents can move, she wouldn’t have had the time to finish the words before he’d have thwarted her.”
I vehemently shake my head. “When a line is that cool, you need to just relax and not overthink it.”
He laughs and we finish the rest of the movie without comments. Then we stream the sequels, complaining more often as we do.
“I should head out,” he says when the credits on the last of the trilogy roll on the screen.
Still on my bravery high, I say, “If you want, you can stay here.”
Turns out, he very much likes the idea of staying, so we make our way to the bedroom, where I promptly end up on all fours.
“That was even better than before,” he murmurs huskily when we’re both just limp noodles on my bed.
My oversexed grin is goofy. “You know, if we were guinea pigs, you’d officially be the dominant one after that.”
His chuckle morphs into a yawn.
“Spoon me.” It comes out bossier than I planned, but he grins and does it.
Before I know it, I fall asleep like that.
Cuddled securely in his arms.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I feel warm and cozy and only partially awake.
Sometimes sleep is like a computer reboot for my brain, and this morning, this is truer than ever—I’m certainly having thoughts that have hidden in my subconscious until now.
It’s insane how close I feel to Vlad.
Also—and maybe this is me being delusional—I feel like I know him. Know the real him, not the Impaler mask everyone at the office fears.
In fact, in barely no time at all, I’ve begun to feel that the two of us fit together like a set of nesting matryoshka dolls.
I grin as I think back on us cuddling on my couch. It was the best evening I can recall having. And the sex was the most mind-blowing of my life.
