The Duality Principle (7 page)

Getting this job had been a total crapshoot. Mark and his team had come up from New York City and put together a start-up in an old warehouse overlooking the wharf. They weren’t picky with resumes, didn’t care about experience or what history the Starks name held. They just threw Connor a coding test when he showed up for his interview and asked him to figure out the bug. It had taken him five minutes. They hired him on the spot.

Connor tapped out a few more lines, hit a snag and sat back to think, rocking in the plush leather chair at his desk. It wasn’t his, really. Everything in the wide, open space of the office belonged to Mark, but Connor had earned his spot here. A small collection of personal items filled his workspace. On the hutch sat a tiny Hot Wheels yellow-and-black Camaro, a miniature version of the Transformer, Bumblebee. A framed photo of him with his grandparents was next to his screen, and his favorite Buddhist quote was tacked to his corkboard:
Make an island of yourself, make yourself your refuge. There is no other refuge. Make truth your island. Make truth your refuge.

It always made Connor think about how he was on his own in this world. How after being abandoned by the people who were supposed to love him unconditionally, the only truth was in his ability to rely on himself.

A sudden flash of inspiration hit, and Connor sat forward, unfurling several lines of code. He smoke tested it, and once he was sure it was working, uploaded it to the staging server and logged off.

“We’re good,” he informed Mark as he stood. “I’m out.”

Mark flashed him a wave, and Connor pushed through the door, taking the steps two at a time until he hit the pavement. It was a perfectly clear day—the kind that didn’t have a trace of humidity, summer’s heat forced into temporary submission by a cool sea breeze. Was this the kind of weather Gabby went hiking in? And would she ever be willing to take him with her? He could give it a try, although he’d never gone into the woods for any reason other than to find a tree wide enough to hide a girl behind or to escape from the cops.

The former would be much more preferable to do with Gabby than the latter.

The smell of fried fish wafted across the street and Connor’s stomach grumbled. Lobster rolls and chowder were what made the seacoast famous, and Gabby’s words about Portland the night before had made him appreciate this town in a way he hadn’t before. He crossed Commercial, stopping at the corner sandwich shop, and was just digging into his lunch when his cell phone rang. He snapped it off his belt loop and checked the screen. The last person in the world he wanted to talk to at that moment was his grandfather. The second to last person was currently calling.

Connor picked up the call. “What, Dean?”

“You hitting the fireworks with us tonight or what?” Dean had the call on speaker. Connor could hear the sound of wind blowing and country music in the background—a sure sign that he was driving the pickup and Mikey was riding shotgun. “And who was that girl you were with last night? Someone you found on a dating site for the hottest female nerds in New England?”

“Funny. And thanks for the drive-by right before I was about to make a move, by the way. You two really know how to help a guy out.”

“Glad to be of service,” Dean replied. “Mikey, will you at least turn that shit down?”

Connor waited until the sound of southern twang faded. “Don’t you guys ever work?”

“One of the perks of being employed by our fathers. Slacking comes with the territory. Besides, it’s the Fourth of July. The day’s over, my friend.”

It was true. And soon everyone in a ten-mile radius would find themselves a small square of real estate in Bug Light Park. He’d put money on the fact that Gabby and Jamie were going to be there too.

“There a reason why you’re not answering me?” Dean asked, pulling Connor back to the here and now.

“Because I’m eating my lunch,” he lied. “And because you’re a jackass.”

That part was the truth.

He swallowed a bite of his sandwich and gave in. “Yes, I’ll be there tonight. And I was with Gabby Evans last night. The girl Jamie set me up with.”

“Hold up.” Connor heard the sound of a fist pounding the dash, and the radio went silent. “You went out with the same girl twice?”

“Since when do you know so much about my dating life?”

“Since when do you go on actual dates?”

Connor sighed. Dean was right, but he didn’t feel like explaining everything. “I like her, okay? I want to get to know her.”

“Well, fuck me.”

“That’s what she said,” Mikey added with a laugh. Connor ignored him.

“You’ll have to introduce us to her tonight at the park,” Dean said. “See you at nine.”

Connor ended the call without saying anything else. Goodbyes weren’t necessary with Dean—the first friend he’d made when he came to Portland, a partner in crime found in the back row of detention. Having Dean and Gabby in the same place wasn’t a combination Connor was looking forward to. If he was lucky, there’d be too many people there for that to happen at all.

He didn’t exactly have a history of being lucky.

Still, as he looked around at the sunny wharf and thought of Gabby’s smile, it seemed possible that his luck might finally be coming around.

Chapter Seven

Gabriella locked her grandmother’s front door and threw her keys into her bag. Locking the door felt odd—she didn’t have a single memory of her grandmother ever carrying a key. But the house was her responsibility for the summer, and she couldn’t bear the thought of anyone breaking in. She wished she had the money to buy it herself. Losing this place was going to be like losing Nana all over again.

Jamie stood at the end of their driveways with her hands on her hips.

“Red, white and blue? Really?”

Gabriella looked down at her clothes. “It’s the Fourth of July. What’s wrong with it?”

Jamie threw her hands in the air and started walking. “I don’t know how you could have grown up in Boston and still have zero fashion sense.”

“You know I don’t care about that.”

She didn’t. She definitely hadn’t chosen the red tank because it clung to her breasts in just the right way, hadn’t picked out the blue-and-white striped shorts because she knew they made her ass look good. This outfit wasn’t for Connor and the hope that seeing her in it would push him over the edge. It would be a nice surprise, though.

She’d hoped he would have asked her to go with him to the fireworks after their date, but instead, all he’d done after rebuttoning his pants and righting her wrinkled skirt was walk her back to the parking lot, gave her another well-mannered kiss on her cheek and left her at her car. Fueled by confusion and frustration, she’d given in to fantasies about her rider when she got home, thinking about all the things she was sure he would have done to her on that deserted pier. The way he would have watched her sink to her knees, the feel of the thick, heavy ridge of his cock pushing against her tongue. His touch as he spread her out on the dock and slipped his hand into her panties. Alone in her bed, Gabriella rubbed her needy, swollen flesh until her rider’s phantom fingers made her shudder into her pillow. But the solo session left her feeling empty and frustrated.

She didn’t understand Connor’s advances and pauses, pulling back just when she wished he’d give her more. There was something hidden in his eyes when he talked about his past, about the reckless teen he once was, but maybe she was imagining more than was really there. Connor couldn’t be both the rebel and the geek, couldn’t be the bad boy turned good. Duality like that might be found in nature, but she’d had enough experience to know that it didn’t exist in men.

Gabriella followed behind Jamie as she led the way to Bug Light Park. The sidewalks were already crowded with people carrying lawn chairs and towels to the green by the shore. It was where the town gathered for the fireworks on Independence Day, and it was a tradition Gabriella had loved every summer she’d been there. They reached the edge of the park and stopped where a bottleneck of people had gathered, trying to find space on the quickly filling lawn. While they waited for a break in the traffic ahead of them, Gabriella came up on her toes and scanned the crowd.

She wasn’t looking for dark hair and a lumberjack build. She wasn’t.

“Looking for Connor?” Jamie’s smile proved there was no point in trying to lie.

She did anyway.

“No. I was just seeing where there might be some spots to sit.” Gabriella straightened her spine, defiant. “I don’t know why you’re pushing this so hard.”

Jamie crossed her arms. “Because he’s perfect for you. Trust me.”

She was about to ask why when she heard the sound of a motorcycle’s rumble. She turned in the direction of the low, idling growl with just enough time catch to the smirk on Jamie’s face before it vanished.

“You
do
know him, don’t you?”

“Who?”

“The guy on the bike.”

“Which guy?” Jamie pretended so well at the picture of innocence, Gabriella was surprised a halo didn’t materialize above her head.

“You know which one.”

“So what if I do? I thought you only liked dorky guys.”

“Maybe I wanted a change.”

Jamie grinned merrily. “Oh, Gabriella. I know you better than you think I do.”

She wanted to ask her friend about her cryptic response, but then they were interrupted by a tall, rugged-looking blond who pulled Jamie into a one-armed hug. The hand that was pressing her to him boldly clutched an open bottle of beer.

“Jamie Matthews, my favorite girl.”

“Oh, I’m your favorite now, huh? You’d better let all the other girls know.” She swatted his chest and pushed him away. “Dean, this is my friend from Boston, Gabriella.”

“The famous Gabriella!” A grin washed over his face as he looked her up and down. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh yeah? What’s Jamie said about me?”

“Not from Jamie. From my boy, Connor. You’re the girl he won’t shut up about.”

“And you can stop talking right about now.”

Gabriella whirled around at the sound of Connor’s voice, catching sight of him as he cut through the crowd. He came to her side and gave Dean a threatening look, but it didn’t seem to affect him at all.

“Sorry, buddy. I speak the truth,” Dean replied. “She might as well know what a sappy fucker you are before she gets in deeper.”

“Thanks, man.” Connor sighed and dug his hands into his pockets, quite possibly to stop himself from strangling Dean, who saluted Connor with his bottle.

“No problem. Mikey’s got a cooler up at the tent. You ladies want to join us?”

“I’m up for a free beer,” Jamie cheered, immediately hopping on Dean’s back. He let out a whoop and carried her up the hill, leaving Connor and Gabriella alone.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey.”
Kiss me again.
“I was hoping to see you here tonight.”

“Me too.” He kicked at the grass and nodded in the direction of the sea of tents in front of them. “Do you want to a beer? I mean, you don’t have to drink. We’ve probably got some water too, if you want that.”

He was babbling. It was adorable.

“You think math students don’t drink beer?” she asked. “The motto at M.I.T. is ‘work hard, but play harder’. Well, that, and ‘sleep is for the weak’. It means we spend half our time guzzling caffeine and the other half getting wasted.”

The grin that spread over Connor’s face made Gabriella realize she was babbling too. She, on the other hand, felt somewhat less than adorable. She lowered her head, trying to hide her face in her hair.

“What I mean is, yes, I’d love a beer.”

Connor chuckled. “Good,” he said, leaning his shoulder down toward hers. “You look really cute tonight, by the way. The red, white and blue, I mean.”

Gabriella beamed. “Thank you.”

He led the way, finding a path through the colorful towels that formed a blanket over the lush grass. The sun had already begun to set, and people were whistling at the moored boat on the horizon that housed the fireworks. They stopped at a worn tent being guarded by a wiry kid with black hair and glasses too big for his face.

“Connor’s here,” he said. “Now the party can finally start.”

“This is Mikey,” Jamie explained to Gabriella as they all sat down in front of the tent. “Also from South Portland High.”

She reached over and shook Mikey’s hand. Connor sat down next to her and stretched out his long legs in front of him until they brushed against hers. Gabriella shifted an inch closer so they were touching.

“These three go way back,” Jamie added.

“
Way
back.” Mikey pulled a bottle from the cooler and handed one to Gabriella, offering one to Connor next. He shook his head. “Dean was famous for the most detentions in the ninth grade, but Connor busted that record when he showed up in tenth.” Mikey looked up at him admiringly. “This guy really knew how to party.”

“Mikey—”

“Hey, remember the Fourth the summer we got our licenses?” he asked, apparently ignoring the warning in Connor’s voice. “When we tore donuts with Dean’s truck into Sheriff Roger’s lawn?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Connor said. “And I was so glad that I was the one who got caught for it while the two of you were already home.”

Dean tilted back his bottle for a long sip. “Good times.”

Gabriella could feel the muscles in Connor’s leg tense. It was obvious he didn’t want this story told, but her curiosity was piqued. She couldn’t help wanting to hear more about his rebellious past.

“Why did Connor get caught for it when it was Dean’s truck?” she asked.

“Well, Sheriff Roger already kind of had it in for him,” Mikey continued. “He was the one who’d practically knocked up his daughter after all—”

“O-
kay
!” Connor said loudly as he sat up straight, his body going taut like a switchblade. “I think we don’t need to go there tonight.”

Gabriella shouldn’t have wanted to hear the last part of that story. There was nothing about him being so reckless with someone else that should have turned her on, but it just reminded her of the night before and how willing Connor was to press her against that pole where anyone could see.

Exactly what else had he done? And why wasn’t he willing to do it with her?

“Oh I think we definitely need to go there, my friend,” Dean argued, sliding an arm across Gabriella’s shoulders. Connor’s jaw ticked, eyes flaring at where Dean’s skin touched hers. “Don’t you think our girl here deserves to know everything about the guy she’s into?”

Connor’s lips pinched together as he looked away. Whatever his friends were teasing him about was a layer he didn’t want peeled back right now.

“I think I know a lot about Connor already,” Gabriella said. “And I think there’s a lot more to him than you all know too.”

Connor smiled at the ground. It made all her joints go a little bit loose.

“Oooh,” Dean catcalled, releasing Gabriella from his grip. “You sure you want to know
everything
, Miss Ivy League?”

There was a dare in his words that flustered her, but it got cut off when Jamie suddenly stood up.

“Hey, you know what? I think the fireworks are about to start.” She started walking backwards toward the water. “I’m going to get a closer spot. Anyone coming?”

Dean looked after her, paused for a moment and then leapt to his feet. “Sounds like an invitation to me.”

He started chasing Jamie down the hill. Connor shot a glare at Mikey, who quickly stood too.

“Um, I’ll go get the other six pack from Dean’s truck,” he muttered before hurrying away.

Gabriella nursed her beer as the group scattered. The sky had darkened to a deep purple, and a sea breeze rushed in with the incoming tide. It made her hair fly about her face, and she rubbed her hands over her arms, trying to chase away the gooseflesh that rose from the chilly air. How unlike her to have forgotten to bring a sweatshirt.

“You cold?” Connor asked. “We can watch the fireworks from inside the tent if you want?”

“Sure. That’d be nice.”

He stood and helped her up. His hand felt warm and big as his fingers wrapped around hers. They ducked their heads inside the tent, and when they were sitting back down next to one another, Connor unzipped his sweatshirt and draped it over her shoulders. The fabric was warm. It smelled like him—a clean, woodsy scent laced with a hint of sweat.

She breathed in and threaded her arms through the sleeves. “Thank you.” Connor nodded and tied back a tent flap so they could still see the sky, then drew his legs up and rested his elbows on his knees. Despite his size, he looked like a little boy, lost and unsure.

“You okay?”

He made a sound that was a little too painful to be a laugh. He shook his head, his gaze falling down between his bent arms. “I’m fine. I’m really sorry about Dean and Mikey. They really are good guys. Most of the time.”

“They weren’t so bad.” She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile and carefully added, “I like getting to hear more about you.”

“You say that now.” Connor took a breath and looked up. He didn’t face her, though. Just kept his eyes trained on the ocean’s edge. “That wasn’t the worst of it. I told you I wasn’t a good kid.”

“You were young. Besides, good isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be. It’s boring and entirely too overrated.”

Connor smiled over his shoulder at her. With his mouth pressed against his bicep, she could only see his grin in the way his cheeks lifted, his eyes crinkling at the corners. It made her heart leap in funny ways. Then his stare turned heavy, gaze dropping and lingering at the edge of her top. His eyes grew hooded, the look in them suddenly dangerous again, and Gabriella teased her fingers along the neckline of her tank in a silent suggestion. She wanted more of the Connor who kissed her on the dock, the rebel who trespassed and slept with local officials’ daughters. It went against everything she should have wanted, everything she’d come here to prove, but she didn’t care.

Connor lifted his head and balanced his chin on his arm.

“You don’t like being good, Gabby?” His voice was hushed, his words a slowly igniting flame.

She shook her head. “There’s a lot more to
me
than you know too.”

“Yeah?” He shifted around and planted one hand on either side of her hips, caging her between them. “You want to be bad?”

She nodded slowly. Without a word, Connor took her beer from her hand and set it by the edge of the tent. He carefully slipped her glasses from her face, placing them to the side. He looked her over and smiled, then reached up to her ponytail and slid the elastic free. There was something intensely erotic in the feeling of that tight circle gliding out of her hair. Gabriella closed her eyes as he feathered his fingers through the loose strands. She could have purred at his soft touch, but then he made a fist at the base of her skull, and she gasped, her eyes flying open. The pull against her scalp felt too good, a sharp pleasure-pain that made her teeth sink into her lip. Connor smirked and curled her hair even tighter into his grip, pulling her down until she was lying on her back.

“Bad girl,” he whispered.

The fireworks began, the first loud explosion of light and sound echoing above them as Connor licked into her mouth, his tongue probing and seeking. He released her hair and gathered her wrists together, raising them up over her head while his other hand traveled down to the curve of her breast. He stroked over the stiff peak of her nipple, moving on top of her as he pinched and tweaked. The sensation sent off a spark that went straight between her legs. Gabriella’s hips bucked up against his at the stab of pleasure, settling him further into the cradle of her thighs.