INSTALOVE

Chapter 17: The Proposal (Part two)

Chapter 17: The Proposal (Part two)

E L L I E

"You've heard of Emerson Kemp, right? He's Reese's older brother."

I sit up straight so suddenly that my chair rolls backward. I nearly fall out of my seat onto the floor. Only Maddox's quick reflexes keep me upright. He grabs me by the elbow, laughing at my clumsiness, but I don't feel like he's mocking me anymore. Not with the way his hand lingers, a moment longer than it should. I can't help staring at his thumb, pressed against the sensitive skin of my inner arm.

Get a grip, Ellie.
Literally.

Get a grip. On your chair.

I latch onto the armrests and readjust.

He releases my elbow and thrusts his hand into his hair, combing it away from his forehead. I could swear I see his face reddening slightly... but I'm imagining that. Obviously. Or maybe I'm just seeing the reflection of my own face, which has turned an ever-so-subtle shade of tomato red.

I do my best to ignore the stomach butterflies, now fully resurrected and trying desperately to escape from my lower abdomen. "Uhhh," I manage weakly. "So does Emerson know about Reese's project?"

Maddox nods. "He's the whole reason behind her project. Reese has permission to use the InstaLove corporate servers... Access to their developers to ask questions..." He crosses his arms across his chest. "And she has Eleanor, of course."

Oh right. Her. I wrinkle my nose. "Don't tell me. Eleanor is some kind of supernatural coding genius?"

"She's knows her way around Javascript and C++. But mostly she's rich. Who do you think provided the funding for all the visors?"

Something in his expression hardens when he mentions Eleanor's name. It's weird. Are the two of them in a relationship or not? "So are you and Eleanor, like—"

He interrupts before I can finish the question. "Don't worry about Reese and Eleanor. You do you. Tell me about your original proposal. The one you submitted when you applied."

"The one that sucks, you mean?"

He cocks his head at me. "Can I see it?"

No. Definitely not. He reaches for my laptop, but I place a hand on top to keep it firmly closed. "It's not—trust me. It's embarrassing."

"I find that hard to believe."

Somehow my hand is touching his again. I pull mine away and bury it beneath my thigh.

He looks at me curiously. "Tell me."

No.

No no no.

Ellie, don't tell him.

Don't.

Definitely don't.

"It's a lawnmower," I blurt. (I don't know why. The butterflies made me do it.)

He raises one eyebrow, and somehow the asymmetry makes his face even more attractive than before. There's a butterfly lodged in my throat now. I swallow hard.

"Lawnmower..." he replies slowly. "I'm pretty sure those already exist."

I look away toward the glass, too distracted by his eyebrow to think clearly. "No, it's a.. it's a robotic... thingamajiggy. What's the word?" How have I forgotten how to talk? "It's like a—self—um. Self-directed..."