Hacker in Love, page 7
7
HANNAH
I straighten the striped hotel towel covering my lounge chair before settling myself on top of it, while Kat does the same on the lounger next to mine. We’re both dripping wet, having just emerged from a lovely dip in the hotel’s swimming pool. As two native Seattleites accustomed to interminable gray skies and rain, Kat and I are both reveling in the scorching heat of Las Vegas.
“My body is loving all this natural Vitamin D,” I murmur, settling into optimal sunbathing position.
“Girl, I can’t imagine your body needs another drop of Vitamin D, given all the infusions Henn gave you last night,” Kat shoots back with a snicker. When my bestie returned to our suite this morning, following her overnight escapades with Josh, we told each other every salacious detail about our respective nights. It was so much freaking fun. I’m used to hearing all about Kat’s dating adventures, but this was the first time I was able to contribute to the conversation beyond “oohing” and “aahing” over Kat’s storytelling.
“Can you blame me for wanting multiple infusions from Henn?” I quip playfully. “Before last night, I was so Vitamin D deprived, I’m surprised I didn’t get rickets.”
Kat guffaws. “Isn’t scurvy the thing you get when you don’t get enough Vitamin D?”
I shrug. “Either way, I can’t wait to get more D when Henn comes to Seattle.”
“You mean when Henn comes in Seattle.”
We laugh hysterically. We’ve both had a couple fruity drinks already, even though it’s only lunchtime, so I guess we’re both feeling even more loose-lipped and easily amused than usual.
“I can’t wait to come in LA when I visit Josh,” Kat says.
“Oh, are you going there for sure?”
“He’s flying me down when he gets back from New York.” Kat lets out a long, pained sigh that reminds me of a hound dog lying on a porch awaiting her owner. It’s a surprising thing, coming from Kat Morgan. Usually, Kat’s the power player in every short-lived romance she deigns to enter—the one doling out pieces of her heart, if any, at her own pace. The one dropping breadcrumbs for the poor guy to follow and slurp up hungrily. But with Josh Faraday, it’s clear he’s the one calling the shots. And the effect on Kat is plain: the poor girl is downright lovesick.
“You’re falling hard, huh?” I ask, even though her answer is a foregone conclusion.
“Too hard for my own good, I’m afraid. I can’t see how this isn’t going to end badly for me.”
“Aw, honey. Josh is falling hard for you, too. Anyone could see that at dinner last night.”
Kat shakes her head. “Josh likes me and thinks I’m fun. And, yes, he loves having sex with me. But he’s never once looked at me the way Henn looked at you in front of the fake Eiffel Tower last night—and that was before you and Henn had danced like gorillas or had amazing sex, twice. I can only imagine how smitten Henn must be feeling today.”
I blush. “Did I tell you we both admitted we’re feeling gob-pummeled last night?”
Kat laughs. “What?”
I explain the origin of the silly phrase and giggle as Kat’s face melts with glee.
“You two are so cute,” Kat says. “Did I tell you Josh said you and Henn are like Phineas and Ferb?”
I laugh. “No, you didn’t. I love it. We’ll have to pick a much more glamorous duo for you and Mr. Faraday. Bonnie and Clyde, perhaps?” Kat looks lost in thought, so I add, “Kitty, I think you’re not seeing what I’m seeing, when it comes to Josh. During dinner, he looked at you several times the way Henn looked at me in front of the fake Eiffel Tower. Every time you were telling a story, in fact.”
“Really?”
“It was like he was gazing at a masterpiece at The Louvre.”
Kat looks elated, but she bites the inside of her cheek to keep herself in check. “Or maybe he was simply looking at his current favorite sex toy.” She looks around briefly to make sure nobody’s about to walk by. “This is confidential,” she whispers, “but when I visit Josh in LA, we’re going to act out all my sexual fantasies. Some of them are pretty elaborate, so that’s not a small thing for him to agree to do.”
I blink several times. “Sorry, I’m having trouble computing the words all and elaborate in the same sentence as sexual fantasies. Please explain further.”
Kat giggles and launches into describing a few of her top fantasies to me, all of which blow me away with their creativity.
“Wow, you’ve got quite the sexual imagination,” I say with a chuckle.
“Don’t we all,” she murmurs.
“Actually, no. I don’t think I’ve ever had a single sexual fantasy, other than getting to have sex with someone I’m wildly attracted to who knows what he’s doing and enthusiastically wants to have sex with me. But since I got to fulfill that fantasy last night, I don’t have anything else on my list now.” I make a checkmark in the air, like I’m crossing the fantasy off my list.
“I can’t imagine ever running out of fantasies,” Kat says. “Once I get one checked off, another one immediately pops into my head to replace it.”
“Wow.”
“The best part is Josh is all-in. I told him about my top fantasies, and how they have to happen to me to be effective—you know, like, I can’t plan them or be in charge in any way, or else they won’t work because I won’t be able to lose myself completely—and Josh was like, ‘Leave it all to me, babe. I’ve got this.’”
“That’s pretty hot.”
Kat winks. “That’s Joshua William Faraday, bitch.”
We hoot with laughter.
“Sounds like Josh is the perfect man for you,” I say. But it’s a mistake. The minute the words leave my mouth, Kat looks lovesick again. Quickly, I add, “Listen, honey, don’t put too much stock in that Eiffel Tower photo of Henn and me. As sweet as Henn’s expression was in that shot, it doesn’t mean anything because he doesn’t know me yet. It sounds to me like you and Josh are creating something really special—your own brand of magic.”
“I hope we are. But he’s so damned hard to read. My biggest fear is that it’s only about sex for him. I’m loving the sex, don’t get me wrong. But I want more, you know?”
“I get it. All I’m saying is last night was like a fairytale for Henn and me, so don’t compare yourself to us. If Henn is still looking at me like I walk on water six months from now, after he’s gotten to know the full panoply of my annoying habits, flaws, and crippling insecurities, then, okay, you can look at that photo and think, ‘Couples goals!’ Until then, chalk that look up to Henn being buzzed, horny, and highly impressed with my plunging neckline.”
Kat scoffs. “Henn wasn’t staring at your amazing tits in that moment, babe. He was staring into your beautiful soul.”
I snort. “You can see my soul in my tits?”
Kat laughs. “Hannah, you know full well Henn likes you for you.”
I blush. “Yes, I do.”
“But, yes, he also likes your tits. A lot.”
Again, we both laugh. Before the conversation resumes, Kat’s phone rings.
“Hey, Rockstar!” Kat says brightly, which means the caller must be the youngest of the four Morgan brothers, Dax. “Yeah, I’m still in Vegas—currently, lying by the pool with my bestie and a fruity drink. No, my work bestie, Hannah Banana Montana Milliken. She came for a double date and stayed for a girls’ trip. Mm hmm. So, tell me the latest.”
As Kat dives into her phone call, I begrudgingly decide to check my work emails. But quickly, I’m diverted by an unexpected missive in my personal inbox from my all-time favorite makeup and skincare line. The subject line of the email reads: “A special offer only for you!” It’s all I need to see to open the message. I can’t afford to buy their wildly expensive products on my own with any regularity, so I always ask for their stuff for birthdays and Christmases.
Much to my thrill, the email says I’m among a handful of customers who’ve been specially selected to win a free shipment of any five products from their premium line, if only I’ll take a brief marketing survey within the next twenty-four hours.
“Damn straight I will,” I mutter, as I click on the link and then quickly begin filling out the short survey. When I reach the end of the form, another one pops up asking me to select my free gifts, all of which will be priority-shipped to the home address they already have on file for me. There’s no request for my credit card or a password. Nothing whatsoever to indicate this email is a scam. So, of course, I gleefully click the “submit” button while saying a little “whoop.”
“Yeah, that sounds good,” Kat says on the call with her brother. “Send me links to whatever you find.” She pauses for her brother to speak before responding with, “Rabbit. Oh, and send me details about that new bar you guys will be playing at. Maybe I’ll catch your show with Ryan and Colby—unless, of course, Ry is bringing that Olivia chick with him. Yeesh.” She giggles. “Right? What the fuck is wrong with that man? Thinking with his dick again, obviously.” Kat sighs. “Okay, Wonder Twin. You, too. Thanks for doing the legwork on this. No, I love you the most. Mwah, baby.”
When Kat disconnects the call, I ask what’s up, and she explains she and her four brothers—Colby, Ryan, Keane, and Dax—are buying a joint birthday present for their beloved mother and that her youngest brother, Dax, is taking the lead on figuring everything out.
“I usually do it,” Kat explains, “but this year, I said, ‘Peace out, bitches. I’m going to Vegas.’”
At my urging, Kat tells me the latest about Dax’s three-man alternative-rock band, 22 Goats, including the fact that Dax and his two bandmates, Fish and Colin, have been saving money to record a full-length album in a fancy studio. Apparently, an album like that will cost at least fifteen grand. Not an easy amount to raise for three young, struggling musicians.
“But guess what?” Kat says with a mischievous twinkle in her blue eyes. “Thanks to Josh and his brother, and all the winnings they let me keep at the craps table the other night, I’m going to surprise Daxy with all the money he needs for his album, and then some.”
I’m shocked. Kat is a generous person, but she’s got a car payment, same as me. Also, some credit card debt, same as me. I can’t believe she’s lucked into fifteen grand or more and plans to give it all to her little brother.
“You’re giving him all your winnings?” I ask.
“Yep. Do I have things I could pay off with that money? Sure. But those things wouldn’t be life-changing for me the way an album could be for Dax and his bandmates. Dax said a high-quality album could get 22 Goats signed to an established label.”
We talk a bit more about Dax and his band, and when that conversation runs its course, I tell Kat about the email I just received from the expensive makeup line.
“Check your emails,” I say, since I know Kat sometimes buys this brand’s products, too.
“I got it, too!” Kat announces. “Our lucky streak continues, Hannah Banana Montana Milliken!”
As Kat dives into the brief survey, a waiter appears. With his dark eyes trained on Kat, he says, “Piña colada?”
I raise my hand to attract his attention. “Piña colada here.”
The man hands me the drink before passing the rum punch to Kat by default. “Your food will be out soon, ladies,” he informs us. He takes a lingering look at Kat, who’s still busy on her phone, and then covertly glances at my chest, which looks particularly buxom in this bathing suit, I must admit, before striding away with his tray pressed against his hip.
As the waiter disappears, Kat looks up from her phone and snorts. “He took a nice gander at your boobs. Can’t say I blame him. You’re a smoke show in that bikini, girl.”
Kat always says stuff like that to me. She tells me I’m a smoke show. A knockout. Gorgeous. She insists men are staring at me when it’s clear she’s the object of their desire. And yet, I never doubt Kat’s sincerity. In fact, I’m grateful for the positive reinforcement. So often, media and entertainment portray women built like Kat as the main character in the movie of life, while women built like me are relegated to sassy sidekick status. Whenever I’m with Kat, though, I always feel every bit her equal co-star.
Obviously, my blonde bombshell of a bestie can’t help that she won the genetic lottery, but what she can help is how she chooses to react to and internalize all the unearned adulation she receives from the world. It’s my theory Kat consciously decided at some point not to believe the hype. Or at least, to expand her view of beauty beyond what she sees in magazines, all of which reflect visions of herself back to her. Did Kat’s mom teach her that? However she got here, it’s lovely to be Kat’s friend because she gleefully and sincerely shares the spotlight with everyone she loves, which thankfully includes me.
Kat turns over onto her stomach and I’m treated to a view of her bare ass cheeks.
“Good lord, woman,” I say. “That suit gives new meaning to the phrase teeny weeny string bikini. Is there a thong in that ass crack somewhere?”
Kat guffaws. “You like it? Josh picked this suit out for me during a shopping spree here in Vegas. You wouldn’t believe how much it cost, considering how little fabric was used.”
“There’s fabric? Oh yeah, I think I saw some covering your nipples and clit.”
Again, Kat positively guffaws.
“Promise me something,” I say. “If you ever feel the urge to spend your own hard-earned money on a designer suit like that, please don’t. In that case, I’ll jimmy together an exact replica for you out of nothing but dental floss and three well-placed cottonballs.”
Kat cackles at my joke. “If you could also jimmy together a pair of gorgeous tits like yours to pour into said replica suit, I’d appreciate it.”
“I’ll place the order on Door Dash right now.”
She snickers. “You and your Door Dash.”
“A girl’s best friend.”
Kat motions to my chest area. “Did Henn have a stroke when he finally got to see those beauties, wild and free, last night?”
“He sure did. And then, he almost suffocated in them after diving in. Talk about a deep dive.”
Kat hoots. “Henn kept sneaking peeks at your cleavage throughout dinner. He thought he was so subtle and clever, but it was so obvious.”
“I would have been offended if he hadn’t noticed them. I didn’t wear that neckline and push-up bra for them to be ignored, for fuck’s sake.”
“Why don’t you send Henn a selfie now? Give the boy a little something to stare at every night in his hotel room in DC.”
“I can’t text him first. I’ll let him get off his flight and text me he’s landed safely and then send him a selfie. I’ve got to let the boy chase me a bit.”
Kat snorts. “As opposed to what you did last night?”
She’s teasing me playfully, not judging me. As we both know, Kat has had more than her fair share of first-night hookups. In fact, she loves hooking up on first dates, if the guy is hot enough—as all her dates are, basically—as long as she’s sure he doesn’t have long-term potential. But what I did with Henn last night, including the raunchy way I invited him into my room, was a first for me, and Kat not only knows that, she’s enthralled by it.
“In all seriousness,” I say, “do you think I hopped into bed with Henn too quickly?”
“What? Of course, not. You were feeling it, and so was he, so you both went for it. Godspeed, my friends.”
“Studies say sex too soon lowers the chances of a relationship becoming serious. I’m not looking for a fun hook-up. I’m looking for a boyfriend.”
“Henn knows that. I personally think it’s a great sign you couldn’t resist inviting him to ride your Slip ‘n’ Slide.” She snickers.
“I never should have told you that.”
“And yet, you did. And now it’s my favorite thing.”
“If first-date sex is no big deal, then why were you so determined not to sleep with Josh too soon?”
Kat scoffs. “Because Josh is a playboy—a guy used to getting anything and anyone he wants at the snap of his fingers. But Henn’s nothing like that. He’s humble. Plus, he’s made it abundantly clear he’s into you as a person. With Josh and me, our connection is so fucking sexual, it’s hard for me to figure out if that’s all there is.”
“Of course, that’s not all there is. He’s obviously totally into you.”
“We shall see. In the meantime, there’s no doubt we’ll have a whole lot of fun.”
Kat turns over onto her back again and sips her rum punch, looking contemplative, so I drink my piña colada and try to decipher the source of my pitted stomach. I think maybe I’m paranoid, thanks to my whirlwind romance with Angus two years ago that turned out to be nothing but a scam on his part. A cruel money grab. It’s not that I think, even for a minute, that Henn is using me like that, but I’m not willing to trust every word out of anyone’s mouth this early on, either.
“I think, out of an abundance of caution,” I say, “when Henn comes to Seattle, I’ll tell him I want to press the reset button on our physical relationship and slow things down. I think we both got swept up in the fantasy vibe of Vegas, but when we’re back to real life, we’ll benefit from taking things at a normal pace.”
“I’m sure Henn will be supportive of whatever you want to do.”
“It’s not that I doubt Henn. It’s just that I’ve been stupid and gullible in the past.”
Kat looks sympathetic. “You’re talking about that dumb jock scammer you told me about?” Kat juts her lower lip in sympathy. “Aw, honey. Don’t beat yourself up about him. All women, including me, have at least one embarrassing story about some dumbass lying sack of shit who played them like a fiddle. I certainly have a story like that. Live and learn, sister.”
