Into the Parallel: Parallelogram, Book 1

Chapter 9

9

“Heeeey, Audie girl, whatcha up to?” (Wink.) (Plump up the hair and toss it.) (Annoy me.)

“Hey, Gemma. Hi, Will.” I gave him a little wave. Even though I was standing right in front of him. Because I am a dork.

The three of us hung out in the back yard while Will’s mom worked the grill, and even though Elena was only two feet away, Gemma still felt perfectly fine pressing her padded English b*a right up against Will’s arm and trying to slip her hand down the back of Will’s waistband while he and I talked as if THAT WASN’T THE MOST IRRITATING THING EVER. And embarrassing. As in must-look-away uncomfortable.

And Will didn’t even seem to notice.

But Elena did. I glanced over and caught her eye. She scrunched her face to the side and stuck out her tongue. She’s not a big Gemma fan, either.

“So I was hoping you could take a look at the program,” I told Will, after explaining the problem I’ve been having with the computers at work. “Maybe sometime in the next couple of days?”

“Sure,” Will said.

“You can fix that, cahn’t you, babe?” Gemma asked him with a wink.

(Here, how’s this hot coal from the barbeque feel on that eye?)

“I’m sure he can,” I said, refusing to look at her or the hand wedged down his backside.

“I’ll come in tomorrow,” Will promised.

Me, too, I thought, even though I hadn’t planned on going back in until Wednesday.

Gemma made a pouty face and plunged her hand down a little further and tossed her hair and pressed her b*a against Will’s arm (a very complicated sequence, but no problem for a pro like her), and said, “I thought we might see a show tomorrow.”

(We call them movies here, Gemma.)

Will didn’t seem to notice the boob against his sleeve. Or maybe he’s immune to it after so many repeated applications. “I’ll probably have to work all day,” he told her. “I’ve already got four clients lined up—five, now. I’ll try to fit you in around noon,” he told me.

“Great,” I said. “Thanks.”

Will has his own computer consulting business—Computer ER: Emergency Repair. He used to work for just our moms at their non-profit organization, but then word got around, and pretty soon he was running his own 24-hour tech support for people willing to pay a hefty price for a house call. He’s come a long way since the days when he and Lydia and I thought we might make our fortune on a lemonade stand.

“Babe, it’s our eleven-month anniversary.” Gemma winked at me. “Audie girl, couldn’t you spare him?”

(Could, won’t.)

Will’s dark eyebrows wrinkled. I could see he was already thinking through the software problem I’d described. He mumbled to himself as much as us, “I thought I fixed that problem.”

Gemma offered me a tight smile. She thought she had fixed it, too.