She’d been up as late as I was last night. Working on our challenge. Not that she looked like she was tired, like she’d implied, but I could see it in her eyes. The heavy way they gazed at the assignment on the screen—seeing it but not computing. The same way I was, because I’d stayed up entirely too late and gotten up way too damn early.

A tremor of nerves rolled through me. I didn’t have a clue what she was preparing, but I was sure it’d be incredible. The girl knew her shit. Born with a gift. And I’d have to up my game in order to fully beat her.

Once Mrs. Francesca returned to her position behind her desk, I opened another chat box, completely unable to resist.

NightLocker: Will I see you tomorrow?

PixieBurn: Why wouldn’t you?

NightLocker: Didn’t know if you were going to come again

PixieBurn: Wouldn’t leave you to host an empty room

NightLocker: Ha. Ha.

PixieBurn: Think you can beat me in a round of CTF?

NightLocker: Name the time

PixieBurn: Code Club. Tomorrow

NightLocker: God, we have to come up with a better name

She snorted quietly and shook her head.

PixieBurn: You do. I’m just a dutiful member

NightLocker: Not fair

NightLocker: I thought we were in this together?

PixieBurn: I thought we were always competing to see who would wind up on top?

The last line made a deep ache wrench in my stomach. Flashes of her on top of me, smiling with those perfect lips, her short hair falling gently across her forehead as I held her.

Barely able to escape the involuntary fantasy, I was typing a response before I could get the feel of her phantom-self out of my head.

NightLocker: I think it would be fun with either of us on top

The sentence repeated in my mind the second I hit enter, and I jolted. Fuck, that sounded so wrong.

Or completely right.

I hushed my inner voice and risked a glance at her.

She stared at the screen, her once-tired eyes wide and alert, a beautiful rosy color flooding her cheeks.

NightLocker: Calm down, Pixie

NightLocker: You’re blushing

PixieBurn: It’s hot in here

PixieBurn: Don’t flatter yourself

NightLocker: I rarely do. You’re the one clearly dreaming of me in all sorts of naughty ways

NightLocker: Cause you know I didn’t mean it like that.

I tried to make light of my blunder, but I was equally surprised that was where her mind went first.

Did that mean she was thinking about me, too?

Damn.

Why did that make my heart race?

A sweet smirk shaped her lips as she reached for the keyboard.

Well, as long as we were playing.

NightLocker: Or did I?