that didn’t interfere with her life—that didn’t interfere with GirlsWithGlasses. What happened at Comic-Con stayed at Comic-Con, and all that.
This was different because she couldn’t remember the last time the F and B came together in one much too appealing package. No, that wasn’t true. She remembered, and the few times she’d given relationships a shot, they had eventually crossed the line to someone trying to tell her what to do with her future, trying to tell her what to do with her money, or, worse, trying to “fix” her. She didn’t need to worry about Gus’s intentions, or whether one day he’d tell her to stop working so much—or that he wanted to stop working and maybe he could just take care of her, because didn’t she need the help, anyway?
Just the thought of it made her feel like she was thrown into a dark room with a clump of hungry Vashta Nerada.
When her phone rang, she answered quickly, blocking out memories of bad exes and the thought that Gus could one day be among their number. This was business . . . kind of.
“Hello?” Why was her voice all weird and high-pitched? Ugh.
“Hey,” he said. His voice was lower than usual, as if he was trying to balance out her weirdness by increasing the sexy. “Thanks again for letting me stay the night.”
“Well, it wouldn’t make sense for you to leave and then come back in a few hours,” she said.
“I guess not.” He was quiet for a minute. “Tonight was a change of pace for me. I don’t really watch TV shows or movies when I’m by myself, but it’s fun with you.”
He was using the same tone he had during his live stream when turning a puzzle over in his mind . . . or his hands. Working through his own thoughts, out loud.
“Aw, you’re making me blush,” she said, trying to sound like she was joking although her face was, in fact, warm. Her neck was, too, and so was her body, the heat emanating from a blazing warning beacon lit in her belly, signaling that her defenses were under siege. She wasn’t sure she wanted anyone to ride to her aide, though, even if she’d written some wild Strider fanfic back in the day.
“That’s fun for me, too,” Gus said, and she definitely wasn’t imagining the teasing in his voice.
“What is?”
“Making you blush.”
She sucked in a breath as the warning beacon blazed high, though she knew it for what it was—desire. “Damn, Gus. Come on.”
Had he really noticed her flushing? He hadn’t seemed to be watching her particularly closely, but one thing she’d noticed about him during his live stream was that his attention to detail was kind of scary. That had shown in the notes he’d taken for the escape room, too. He had several pages just about the color schemes used on the show. Of course, he’d noticed her getting all hot and bothered. And apparently he’d liked it.
Shit.
“Sorry,” he said. He didn’t sound sorry. “There’s a book on the bedside table down here about investing funds and managing money, which sounds pretty boring. I can read from that.”
She already had her toe dragging along the surface of the warm pool of improper flirting. She dipped both feet in.
“Maybe you should. Because if you say anything else about making me blush, I’m going to have to ask how you’d do that and then I definitely won’t get any sleep.”
He made a sound on the other end of the phone, a sound she was also familiar with. She hadn’t realized while watching in real time while preoccupied with her own work, but after bingeing episodes every time she struggled with insomnia, she’d noticed the little grunt of satisfaction he made when he’d done something right and was figuring out his next move.
God, she had internalized that minuscule detail about him. She should’ve known this internet crush ran deeper than she’d wanted to admit when she first had the urge to find him. She should’ve known that some part of her had wanted this—him. Gus, not just his voice. She’d never expected him to live close enough for her fantasy to become a reality, and she’d rationalized each step of this weird-ass reunion until now here they were, teetering on the edge of phone sex that could be real sex because the call was literally coming from inside the house.
“I think the first way I’m going to do that tomorrow,” he finally responded, his