Cracking Her Code

Chapter 29

Nyk's POV

Dinner was warm and lively, the kind of meal where everyone talked over each other and passed dishes like it was a relay race. The table was full, turkey, mashed potatoes, roasted vegetables, and glasses full. Her dad was in the middle of a story about a neighbour's inflatable Santa disaster when I felt a hand on my thigh. 

I straightened slightly in my chair, fork paused mid-air. Simone, seated beside me, was the picture of innocence, chewing calmly, nodding along to her dad's story, eyes bright and engaged. Like she wasn't currently sending my nervous system into a tailspin. 

I cleared my throat and resumed eating, determined to ignore her hand. But someone knew exactly what she was doing. Her fingers rested there lightly, warm and steady. 

I tried to focus on the conversation. Tasha was talking about her new job, and Simone's mom was asking about a recipe. Normal things. Safe things. Then Simone's hand moved, just a little higher. Her fingers began to trail back and forth, feather-light strokes that made my breath catch. 

I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. She was sipping her beer, nodding at something Tasha said, completely unfazed. Meanwhile, I was trying not to choke on a green bean. 

I shifted in my seat, hoping she'd take the hint. She didn't. If anything, her fingers slowed, teasing in their rhythm. 

I leaned in just slightly, whispering under my breath, "You're evil."

Simone didn't look at me, but her lips curved into the faintest smirk.

I stabbed a piece of carrot with more force than necessary, trying to look casual. Simone's hand hadn't moved, still resting where it was. 

Across the table, Simone's mom was asking her about work and how it was going. Simone answered, but I couldn't focus on what she was saying when her fingers gently pressed against the inside of my thigh.  Her hand shifted slightly as she asked Tasha about her plans for New Year's. Her pinky was close to my centre, which was throbbing, from her fingers on my thigh.  I shifted in my seat, legs crossing instinctively, but that only trapped her hand closer. 

I tried to focus on the food. But it was not helping. Simone's pinky tracing patterns it was driving me insane. I clenched my jaw, determined not to react, but my body betrayed me. 

I leaned in and whispered. "You're playing with fire." Then I stopped her hand, pulled it away, and placed it on her lap. 

She didn't respond. Just smiled as she took a bite of her turkey.