Olivia Twisted (Entangled Teen) (11 page)

Chapter Twelve

“’There is no pursuit more worth of me: more worthy of the highest nature that exists: than the struggle to win such a heart as yours.’”

—Charles Dickens,
Oliver Twist

Z

It’s not long before the so-called “tutoring” morphs into more personal conversations. The girl I once thought shy is definitely not, especially when she’s after information from me.
Relentless
is a better word to describe Liv. She reminds me of Micah’s program that strikes at all points of a system to weaken it. I know she’s trying to get information about Maggie, but that one I refuse to talk to her about. If she knew the truth about Maggie, she’d never trust me.

It soon becomes a strange kind of game for us. I ask her a question, just to have the question turned back on myself, just for me to turn it back on her. It annoys and fascinates me at the same time.

“But why did you change schools?” she asks after I tell her I’ve only been in this school since the beginning of the year. “I mean, did you get kicked out of your last school or what?”

“Of course not. It’s not easy to explain. I finished what I needed to do and decided to move on.”

“What do you mean, what you needed to do?”

I don’t answer the question. She doesn’t need to know my reputation in my last school. She doesn’t need to know that Jen told everyone I used her and dumped her, which was true. She definitely doesn’t need to know how big of a jerk I can be. I came to this school to start fresh.

Liv’s studying me now, and I wonder what it is that she’s able to read on my face.

“So did you make many friends in your past schools?” I ask her.

She shrugs. “Here and there. I moved around a lot, so there wasn’t really time to make strong friendships. What kind of friends were you and Maggie?” she asks, going back to her first line of questioning.

I groan. Damn, she’s persistent. “Why does it matter? We don’t see each other anymore.”

“You looked upset when you saw her.”

“I just wish she’d made different choices, that’s all.”

The corners of her eyes wrinkle in frustration. That doesn’t bother me at all—she can stay frustrated. No way I’m getting into a conversation about Maggie. “Don’t you have any homework to do?”

She shrugs. “Nothing that can’t wait.”

I open my backpack and pretend to be busy with something in it, though I can feel her eyes on me. “What?” I ask.

“You do a lot of hacking competitions, huh?”

Ah, finally.
I set my backpack aside and look at her. “Why do you ask?” I keep my expression innocently curious, though I know exactly why she asked. Like Sam said, a week of working at Slice of Happy can’t be anywhere near the pay she made in minutes of hacking. And Liv has got to be questioning why we chose to break into a bank account during the competition. She’s got to know something’s not legit. Now I just need to see what she does with that knowledge.

“Well…” She looks at me, biting her lip as she waits for me to fill in the blanks. Of course, I won’t. I raise my eyebrows, waiting patiently as she fumbles around for the words.

“I wouldn’t mind doing another,” she finally blurts out. “Hacking competition, I mean.”

I stay cool on the outside, but inside I’m whooping and giving myself high fives. I
knew
it. “Big bucks compared to Slice of Happy, huh?”

She nods, her eyes bright and eager. I wonder now if it’s more than the money that she’s after. I’ll bet she’s addicted to the rush. I know that feeling very well—it’s something that was lacking in Jen and Maggie. They only did it for the money. I pull out my cell and text Sam. “Don’t feel bad,” I tell her. “It is pretty addictive.” I slip the phone back into my pocket and stand, extending my hand. “Come on.”

“Where?”

“I think I can arrange something.”

Her eyes alight with curiosity, she lets me pull her up, her hand soft and warm in mine. On impulse, I carefully loop my fingers through hers, expecting her to pull away like she usually does when someone touches her. But she doesn’t. Instead, she closes her fingers around mine, her lips curving upward in a tiny smile as she lifts her backpack to her shoulder with her other hand. It’s such a small, simple gesture, and one that certainly shouldn’t cause all the blood in my body to rush to my head. But as I stand staring at her like an idiot, I realize I want nothing more than to pull her to me, to taste those strawberry-kissed lips and tangle my fingers in her long hair. The desire isn’t what shocks the hell out of me; it’s what I don’t do about it.

For the first time in my life, I don’t take what I want.

Instead, we walk out to the parking lot, our fingers linked as if it’s just a sweet middle school crush. I release her hand at my motorcycle with a twinge of regret, but the feelings reignite with a vengeance when she slides onto the bike behind me, her arms wrapping around my waist, her body pressed against mine. I shake my head to get control of myself and start the bike to head to Monroe Street.

…

Liv

Something is different. Back in the classroom, it wasn’t Z’s usual confidence and cocky attitude. It was genuine…something. I don’t know. Something softer. Whatever it was, it sent my heart reeling in ten different directions. Even sitting behind him on the bike, something I’ve done a few times now, seems so much more intimate. I want to rip off this helmet and rest my cheek against the leather of his jacket as we fly down the streets. I want to run my hands under his jacket, under his shirt. I want to let my hands curve around his waist, explore the warmth of his skin.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block these feelings that are starting to freak me out.

Z takes the bike back to his house at Monroe Street. There aren’t as many cars in the driveway this time, though I do recognize Sam’s red Camaro. She appears in the foyer almost as soon as we walk through the large oak doors.

“Hi, Liv!” she says brightly, throwing her arms around me for a hug.

“Hey, Sam.” I hug her back.

“Ready?” Z asks her.

“Of course,” she says, taking my other hand and leading us to the back of the house. A few kids look up from where they’re playing cards at the dining table. One of them—a pretty girl with long wavy blond hair—jumps to her feet, her blazing eyes moving from Z to me, then to our entwined hands. A younger girl pulls on her arm to try to get her to sit back down, but she shakes her off. I glance at Z but he doesn’t appear to even notice her.
Great.
Another ex-girlfriend, I’m guessing.

Sam opens the door to the same room where the hacking competition was held, but it looks different without the wall-to-wall crowd of people that was here last time.

“Where is everyone?” I ask Sam.

She laughs. “There’s nothing going on today,” she says. “Although that’s not true anymore, is it?” She leads us to a table in the center of the room. Two laptops are set up, back to back. I know what this is for, and my stomach twists.

He wants to hack…against
me
.

There are whispers behind me, but I don’t turn around.

“This isn’t a show for everyone, Sam,” Z says, jerking his head toward the door. Sam moves to shut it as Z’s fingers deftly type passwords into the laptops. While they boot up, he leans against the table, arms crossed, eyes fixed on me. “Well, what do you say?” The softness of earlier has been replaced with the cunning look that I’m more familiar—and more comfortable—with.

I fidget with the hem of my shirt for a moment. Sam said Z is easily the best at coding, and I can’t beat him in anything at school. Hasn’t it been something I’ve wanted to do? He appears so confident right now—I ignore the word
sexy
, which is printed in bold letters in my mind—and I’d love to wipe that cocky look off his face.

I cross my arms and stare back at him just as intently. “What are the stakes?”

The smile spreads across his face slowly, almost leisurely. I try to keep my gaze cool, to not let him know my knees are shaking.

“Well, money seems to be what you need most right now,” he says.

At this particular moment, I’m not sure that’s exactly true, but I nod anyway. “And for you? I don’t have much money.”

His eyebrow works its way up almost suggestively.

My breath catches. “No.”

He laughs. “I’m not suggesting what you think. But how about you go for a ride with me today.”

I shift nervously. “A ride where?”

“My choice.”

“Where?” I repeat firmly.

“Don’t worry, just a ride. I promise.”

I know it’s stupid to agree to something so open-ended like this, though the idea of heading into the unknown, gripping his waist as he flies down the highway, makes me want to concede the game right now. Still, I nod. Conceding isn’t in my nature. No way am I letting Z win.

“You guys want to get to business now and stop flirting?” Sam asks, and it’s only then that I realize she’s been standing here, listening. My cheeks burning, I sit in the chair across from Z. His eyes are still fixed on mine—smiling eyes, the kind that make my skin tingle with excitement.

Sam snaps her fingers between us. “Seriously, you guys are making me sick. Okay, you’re both going to be given unique links to your own YouTube videos. Whoever gets the most hits within fifteen minutes wins. That’s all—get people to your video. Easy.”

She hands us earbuds to plug into the computer so we don’t hear each other’s videos, then holds out a paper bag. “These are the links. Get people to it. You have a total of fifteen minutes, starting now.”

Z and I reach in the bag—electricity snapping my skin as our fingers brush—and both grab a slip of paper with a link printed on it.

I type in the address that takes me to a video of a Japanese man reenacting a popular hip-hop song—very badly. I copy the link, then think for a moment. Various options run through my mind for getting people to the site. I don’t have a Twitter account—not even a Facebook account, because what’s the point if you don’t have friends to keep up with? Hacking one wouldn’t make much of a difference. There’s always a place like eBay, where I could list it as an item for sale, but that might not have much payoff either.

I stare at the video—the man circling his hips around comically—then peer over the monitor at Z, who’s focused on his own screen, his eyes tightened slightly but otherwise relaxed. I can hear his fingers flying over the keys. His eyes slide up to meet mine for a moment, lips curving just enough for me to realize he thinks he’s got it made. I want to win this now, more than anything. I want to steal his thunder.

And his viewers.

I focus again on my monitor, noting the date my video was created, and click on the creator’s name: SG3241. I scroll down the list of videos created on the same day, clicking on them at random to check the number of hits. One video is of a woman sitting in her bathtub and screeching out the national anthem. I notice the number of hits rising at each refresh—quickly, so it must be Z’s.

A few months ago at my old school, some of us were screwing around with YouTube and found an XSS exploit to get user data. Unless it’s been fixed, this could work. I enter a bogus comment to inject JavaScript into the page that will redirect users from Z’s video to mine.

By now, his has over 300 hits. I don’t know what he’s doing, but I know if I hadn’t figured this out, I’d be in trouble.

I switch back to my video to watch and refresh the page to watch the numbers rising.
Yes!
I glance at Sam’s timer. Three more minutes. I look over the monitor to see Z’s eyebrows knit together, confused. I drop my eyes to my screen and tap a random key nervously, praying he doesn’t figure out why his hits have stopped until it’s too late.

I refresh my page. Almost a thousand hits. I suppress the urge to giggle. I don’t want to let Z catch on too early. But as I hear him cursing, I can’t help it. I start to laugh. Z stares at me, his eyes wide.

“One minute,” Sam says.

He jumps up and walks to my side.

“Hey, cheating!” Sam calls out, but he ignores her as he leans over to look at my page.

“Redirected,” he says, groaning. “So simple.” He stands up again, palm to his forehead. “Forget it. She won.”

Sam looks at both monitors and bursts out laughing. “Simple for sure. What made you choose that?”

“I didn’t think I could beat him any other way,” I say, now a little embarrassed. Maybe they were expecting me to be cleverer. “I thought he could do all the work and I could just steal his numbers.”

She claps my shoulders. “Brilliant, my friend. Brilliant!”

Z returns to his chair, leaning back to consider me, his lips flirting with a smile. “You have such an interesting way of looking at things, don’t you?”

I grit my teeth. Interesting meaning easy? Maybe I shouldn’t have said I couldn’t have beat him otherwise. “Yeah, well, it’s the easy ones that are hardest for geniuses like you,” I say, probably a little more snappish than I mean to.

Z’s smile grows wicked as he hooks his ankle around the leg of my chair, pulling it closer. He leans toward me, one hand on the side of my chair. I try to keep cool, though I’m melting inside as his thumb grazes the outside of my thigh. The way he’s looking at me could be considered illegal in certain circles.

“My idea of genius is a little different than yours,” he says in a low voice.

“Guys,” Sam says in exasperation, making me jump and effectively breaking the tension. “Take it outside or upstairs or something. And pay up,” she says to Z, her hand extended.

He sighs but reaches into his pocket for his wallet, pulling out a couple hundred-dollar bills for me and a twenty for her. She slips it into her pocket, then grins at me. “I bet him you’d win.”

“You carry this much money on you all the time?” I ask. Nothing should really surprise me about this guy anymore, but still.

“Not always. I thought you might have a chance, too.” His smile seems genuine. He takes my hand and we head out of the room. The girl who was at the dining table earlier isn’t anywhere to be seen, but other kids I pass welcome me warmly as they slap Z’s hand in greeting. He introduces me to them—Micah, Cameron, Cara, James, Drew, Em—but so quickly I know I won’t remember who’s who.