Chapter Ten

”James, calm the fuck down.” Chief Walsh shouted at Sali in a way I hadn”t seen him lose his shit before. ”You don”t run this fucking show. Roth does.” He pointed at me. ”Clear it with her—”

”Excuse me, Sir.” Donovan interrupted. ”I run the show, but Roth—have at it.” She flicked her fingers in my direction.

”This is a show, all right. A shit show,” I said, feeding the niggling of anger and frustration in my gut. ”And stop shouting, Sali.”

”I like shout—ow! Mags. Fuck.” Sali rubbed her arm where her wife gave her a firm punch.

”Calm down. We”re not breaking into a building, Sal.”

”Why not?!” Sali flailed her arms then let them flop at her sides.

Maggie folded her arms, pursed her lips, and frowned. ”It”s a demolition factory. You can”t stick C-4 to the door and hope for the best.”

Sali grumbled and flopped into a chair. ”I can pick locks.”

”Yeah, but can you make yourself invisible to avoid the cameras? No. So calm down.” Maggie thwapped her shoulder and Sali huffed.

”How many places manufacture or use the kind of explosive material found on the bodies?” I asked, raising my voice enough to demand the focus of the room.

”About thirteen according to Bryant,” answered Donovan.

”We should go to each of those without blowing it up with C-4 and get a list of all the employees. We can then run demos on everyone and see what clicks to the profile.” I folded my arms and glanced between them. ”Like normal police work.”

”Fine.” Sali groaned. ”Fine. If Roth wants to run around here acting all logically and of sound mind, fine.”

I couldn”t prevent myself from laughing at that.

”Let”s hustle then,” called Walsh. ”Out with you all.”

”Acting like you”re in charge again, I see,” teased Donovan as she stood up with the team. She narrowed her eyes at Walsh, and he scoffed.

Part of me began to enjoy the ragtag group of law enforcement working on this case. Despite the serious nature of the situation, their ability to preserve a sense of humor made it easier to tolerate. With our orders in hand, we split off to tackle the day.

The long, annoying, wandering around Seattle day.

Zay and I visited two of the factories, procured the list of employees, and managed to convince one of the managers to give us full access to their stock and store. As it turned out, his Federal Contractor status was something he hoped to preserve so opening up his place of business wasn”t much of a risk.

By the end of the day, Bryant had a list of over a hundred names to run through her systems and Clem would have about the same to flow through hers. Thoughts of her rolled through my mind all day, and as I opened the door to Frankie”s shop, I considered bailing to see if she was free.

The shop boomed unusually on a weeknight. A customer sat in every chair, their naked body parts exposed to the air awaiting their ink. Frankie leaned over the thigh of some girl who didn”t seem to care that her Victoria”s Secret panties were visible to the whole room. I recognized the look in Frankie”s eyes while she worked and talked. She had a mark, and that mark would end up in the loft above the shop before the day was out.

”Hey.” I joined Wyatt at his drawing station. ”Wow.” I pointed to the design he scratched onto paper. ”Is that a memorial?”

”Yeah. I got an Army vet coming in who wants a specific design. Thiago”s gonna do it, but I”m designing.” He motioned to the work. ”Cool?”

”Amazing. Combat medic?” I motioned to the caduceus that stood in the center.

”Yep. I hope they like it.”

”Can”t see why they wouldn”t. Where”s Tati?”

”Chillin” at the gallery waiting to bust out. She should be here soon. Her show is getting picked up. Did she tell you?”

”Not yet.” A smile broke out across my face. ”But I can”t wait to hear about it. She”s been waiting for so long…”

”I know. This is gonna be it for her. I can feel it.” He nodded firmly, asserting his confidence over the declaration. ”It”s her break.”

”I”m here for that.”

”How”s Clem? See her today?”

”Not yet, but I”m about to text her.”

”Cool.”

”Who”s Clem?” Frankie”s raspy voice asked as she came up behind me.

I glanced over my shoulder to see the woman she worked on standing up and fixing her outfit. She glanced at Frankie, and I noticed her movements weren”t very quick.

”Who”s that?” I nodded in the woman”s direction. ”Going upstairs?”

Frankie smirked and looked over at her. ”Not tonight. Probably tomorrow though, to be fair.”

”No surprise.”

”Who”s Clem?” She nudged me with her elbow. ”Deets. Is she hot? Did you fuck?”

I fought the desire to push her down a flight of stairs. ”I don”t tell you about anyone I”m talking to for a reason and this falls in that category. Stop it.”

Frankie lifted her hands in surrender. ”Jeez. Calm down.”

”No. I”ve had about enough of you showing off in front of people, Frankie. When we”re alone, you”re not like this. Stop being obnoxious.”

Frankie pursed her lips, her eyes narrowing as if ready to dig out my heart with double-daggers. ”Fuck me for caring.”

”It”s not caring when you ask questions like that. That”s being intrusive.” I stepped away from them and headed toward the door. ”Talk to me when you can be respectful.”

”Bitch,” she called after me. ”I want a divorce.”

”Done.” I flipped her off right before I hit the streets.

No one in the shop batted a lash at the ridiculousness. Return customers, and pretty much anyone in our community, was used to Frankie”s idiocy at times. I never understood why they forgave her such things, but to me sometimes it was unacceptable.

My heart pounded in my chest as I stormed down the street. Frankie pissed me off frequently, but even for me my defensiveness seemed at an all-time high. My thoughts said, How dare she even speak Clem”s name? And ruminated on never allowing Clem near her. It felt possessive and strange, overbearingly protective and the impulse to check on her overcame me.

Hi, I texted, and nothing more.

Hi, she responded almost immediately.

Are you still working?

I am. Are you going to visit me? It”s going to rain soon.

Huh?

Every time you visit me at work, you”re damp from the rain. So, I”m beginning to expect you with the weather.

A laugh escaped me, and I lowered my phone as I looked up to the sky. Sure enough, cloud cover rolled in, shielding what little light the stars lent to the city. I returned to my texts then wrote, I was just checking in.

Boo.

Are you trying to scare me?

No. I”m expressing my deep-seated disappointment in your lack of visit.

Laughter bounced my gear belt around my middle, and I replied, I see. Booing me instead of a ghost boo.

Accurate, she said with a ghost emoji to follow.

Instead of replying, I pocketed my phone and picked up the pace as I jogged down the street. The air grew thick with humidity, and I knew I wouldn”t beat the storm. It took me a solid fifteen minutes to reach Clementine”s lab, and the security folks let me in with a simple flash of my badge now that they knew me. My visitor”s pass got me through the endless doors. At this time of the evening, there wasn”t much going on save for people leaving at the end of their shifts.

I made my way to Clem”s office, this time without my Vans squeakily announcing my entrance. Through the lab where machines whirred in near-silence, I saw her seated in her office, pinching a pencil between her fingers. She hunched over a notebook on her desk and wrote quickly in a composition book. Today, she wore a pair of black and white saddle shoes that matched the rest of her outfit perfectly. Black slacks, a white button-down, and a pair of suspenders that nearly melted my insides. Her hair tumbled over her shoulder, touching her knee when she shifted her position only slightly. She didn”t notice me at first or didn”t seem to at least.

”I”m less disappointed now,” she said, without looking up.

Didn”t seem to, it is. ”Just less?” I chuckled as I approached her.

”Correct. Less.” She continued writing whatever it was, and I pushed myself up to sit on the desk beside her. ”Your jeans are holey again.”

”What can I say? I dress to impress.”

A small giggle escaped her, and she finally glanced up at me. Her eyes shimmered with brightness that I began to wonder if she kept a cap on purposefully. The way she looked away quickly always gave me a moment to gather my bearings before we shared a longer look.

”Well, hello there,” I said, folding my hands between my knees.

”Hello.” Her smile broadened and she bit her lip.

We said nothing for a few moments, neither one of us particularly bothered by it, until she began writing something down again.

”Such a quiet Clementine today,” I said, finally. ”You okay?”

”I”ve spent all day alone and ”I”m less disappointed now” are the first words I”ve spoken aloud since yesterday.” Her statement left her slightly robotically.

I tilted my head as I watched her. ”Even with all the people that work here?”

”I came in early, and no one bothers me when I”m working unless I ask them too. If I”m needed, they”ll email or message. The sound of my own voice is disturbing.”

”I”m sorry. Is my voice okay?”

”Yes. Your voice is very welcomed,” she said. ”I like the way you look when you”re wearing your work belt. Even though I don”t fancy guns. You look really sexy like that, and it makes me pay attention to your waist.”

Her words took me by surprise, and I nibbled the inside of my cheek to prevent myself from smiling too broadly. ”Do you like paying attention to my waist?”

”Yes. Very much. Especially when you”re naked because of how nicely your muscles suit you.” Again, her very straightforward expression caught me off guard. ”Your core is very strong.”

”Well, you can thank my skateboarding habit for that. And for practically all of my muscles. And most of my scars.”

”I don”t think skateboarding naked would be a good idea.” She set her pencil down then. ”If you fall and scrape your nipples, that would be very painful.”

I burst out laughing at the imagery her words brought me. ”Very painful!”

She started, but looked up at me and joined my laughter. ”It”s not that funny.”

”It is though. Scraping off my nipples sounds terrible, but it might look very funny.”

Her tiny chuckles turned to snickers and she finally held my gaze longer. ”Do you want to come to my place for dinner?”

”I would like that very much. Unless you”d like to go out for dinner. There”s a lot of restaurants close by.”

”No, thank you. That will be too overstimulating today.” She closed her notebook and stood up suddenly. ”Do you like enchiladas?”

”Yes, I do.” I held my hands to her when the heat of her burned close to my knees. ”You can come closer if you like.”

Cautiously, she stepped toward me until her hip pressed against my leg. It took her a long moment, her eyes downcast on my leg before she placed her hand on my thigh. Once she was there, however, she squeezed me firmly and the rest of her seemed to relax as well. Her fingers explored one of the tears in my pants, until her nails gently grazed my skin. She grew quiet for a little bit while she touched me here and there. I let her do whatever she wanted until she finally glanced at me.

”Hi there.”

”Hi.” She smiled fully then, and her bottom lip made it between her teeth. ”I would like to have sex with you tonight.”

My smile morphed into a grin. ”I would like to have sex with you tonight, too.”

”And you”ll be completely naked.”

”I will if you will.” I chuckled, and cautiously gave her hand a squeeze.

”Oh, I will. I don”t have any problems being naked. It”s very natural.” She laced her fingers with mine, and I noticed right away she seemed to loosen up in general. ”Would you like if I cooked enchiladas for you? I can make them vegan if you like.”

”I”m very happy with your natural nudity. And yes, that would be nice. I”ll eat them however you make them. I trust your skills.”

Her whole face lit up with my declaration and she gave my hand a tug. ”C”mon then. Let”s go.”

”You got it.” I hopped down from the desk and waited for her to pack up her notebook into her briefcase.

It took us all of a few minutes to make it to her car and back to her apartment. Clem fell into random bouts of silence during that time, but it wasn”t a vacant silence at all. She seemed more focused or concentrated than vacant. I honored it and relaxed into the moment.

She led me upstairs to her apartment as before and flicked on the lights when we entered. I hadn”t toured her entire house save for the kitchen, particularly the floor, and living room. My last visit didn”t even land us in the bedroom. In fact, in our brief time together, we hadn”t made it to each other”s bedrooms. It wasn”t a new scenario for me, as most of my past relationships belonged to hookups, but in this instance, it seemed different.

Clem set her bag down on the bench by the front door then slipped out of her shoes. A smile made it to my face when she brushed a bit of dust off the black portion.

”What”s funny?” she asked when she glanced at me, her brow crinkled.

”Nothing is funny. I”m smiling because I really like your shoes. Actually, I really like your whole outfit. And your style in general,” I declared, like a rambling fool.

”Thank you.” She nearly beamed with her statement. ”I like my style too. Some people probably think it”s too much, but I don”t mind it. I”m comfortable this way. Do you think it”s too much?” Immediately, her shoulders tensed.

”Not at all.” I shook my head. ”Do you think I”m too little?” I gestured down the front of me, emphasizing the torn jeans, T-shirt, and bomber jacket getup that accompanied my gear belt and Vans.

”No.” She snickered as her eyes wandered over me. ”But the tears in your jeans distract me.”

”I noticed that you notice them.”

”It”s two things.” She held up two fingers. ”First, the dangling fabric makes me want to touch it a lot. Sometimes fabrics of certain kinds get to me.” She lowered one finger. ”The second thing is that I can see your skin. And I really like your skin. When I like someone, I get overwhelmed with wanting to touch them, but then I don”t at all.”

”You can touch me whenever you like, Clem.” I shrugged and held my hand to her. ”I like when you touch me.”

”You can touch me, too,” she said, then quickly corrected. ”But not tickling. I strongly dislike tickling. It”s unacceptable.” Her lips pursed and she shook her head firmly.

”Okay.” I chewed the inside of my cheek to fight my broadening smile. ”I promise to never tickle you.”

”Good.” She lifted a brow at me then added, ”I might tickle you though, if you don”t hate it.”

A laugh escaped me, and she finally accepted my hand. ”I don”t hate it as long as it”s brief and playful.”

”It seems like we”re on the same page.” She smiled then urged me toward the kitchen. In her sock-covered feet, she walked on her tiptoes for a moment until she stopped by the fridge. ”How was work today?” she asked, still holding my hand while she began taking out whatever she needed to make dinner.

”Eh. How about you?”

”Good.” She squeezed my hand then turned around. ”Why eh?”

”It”s been…” I thought about my words cautiously. ”Unsatisfying lately.”

She urged me to the kitchen table, then nudged me to sit. I found myself obeying in an unusual way.

”Relax here while I cook.”

”Can I help?”

”Nope. Tell me about unsatisfying work.” She spun around and began working quickly. I noticed she already had the inside ingredients prepared, and so rolling the tortillas and lining them up in the pan became the majority of the task.

”It”s the case. It”s so frustrating. We have so much information and yet none of it is narrow enough. These women were killed so specifically. How can we not get justice for them? Sorry…you”re working with food. Is it too much to talk about death and dying?”

”Not at all.” She tossed me a cheeky grin over her shoulder. ”I”ve been known to watch autopsies while imbibing in the spirits of a rich chili.”

I laughed hard and shook my head. ”Me too.”

”I”ve said before that forensics is my special interest and I mean it. You should see my home office-slash-library. I think you”ll like it.” She poured a sauce over the enchiladas then garnished them. I watched the way her movements, while fluid, appeared practiced and cautious at the same time. Not a single bit of cheese or sauce fell out of place.

”I”d like to see it. Forensics is somewhat my special interest, too, but not when I don”t make progress.”

”You”re very hard on yourself, it seems…”

”I am.”

We fell into a brief quiet, which ended when the beep of the pre-heated oven interrupted it. She placed the casserole pan with the food in it, then set the timer. Clem”s movements enthralled me, and the way she was so careful about moving things around carried a sentimental charm that I knew I wouldn”t forget. She washed her hands, then set the table beside me for two.

”What can I get you to drink? I have iced tea, water, and coffee. Or if you would like wine, I have red and white.”

”Um…let”s stick with coffee. Thanks.” I paused for a moment then added, ”It”s strange not helping you.”

”Deal with it.” She smiled at me, her tongue between her teeth.

I laughed and shook my head. ”You”re so cute.”

”Nah.” She moved to the single-serve coffee machine and brewed up two quick cups. ”I have almond milk and regular. Which do you prefer?”

”You always have both?”

She nodded. ”I like regular milk in cereal, but almond or soy for everything else.”

”Totally get it. Whatever you have I”ll have.”

”Almond it is. Anything else for you?”

”Nope. Just milk. Thanks.”

”Welcome.” She handed me the black mug then nodded. ”Living room? We have a good twenty minutes.”

”Sure.”

I followed her then joined her by the sofa. ”Should I take off my shoes on the carpet?”

”If you”re comfortable you can.”

”I will.” I slipped out of them, then set them by the front door with hers. When I returned, she settled on the couch, and I joined her. ”Thanks for having me over.”

”I like having you over.” She pulled a blanket off the back of the sofa then draped it across our laps. ”The rain makes it so damp.”

”It does.” I scooted closer as we cupped our drinks in our palms.

”I”m not sure why I”m so comfortable around you. Normally, I”m not so good with newer people. It”s not like that with you,” she said, flipping the conversation”s direction in an unexpected swerve.

”Same. I mean, I don”t really make new connections. Kind of keep to myself and my people.”

”Tatiana and Wyatt are lovely.”

”Yeah.” I smiled at the thought of them. ”They”re my besties.”

”It”s good to have that kind of support,” she said, then sipped her coffee. ”I”ve never been good at making friends. Or keeping them, for that matter.”

”I never really made any beyond those in my proximity. You”re different…”

”You”re different, too.” She glanced at me. ”But I don”t want to be your friend.”

My heart sank for a moment, but then I waited for her to continue.

”I like more with you. So far, I really like the more.” Rich, hazel eyes gazed at me, and I saw the nervous anticipation in them as she awaited my reply.

”I really like the more, too.” I felt my smile reach my eyes, and the warmth it brought to my cheeks. When she brushed her hair behind her ear, then tossed the length of it over her shoulder, my insides fluttered and I leaned forward, hoping she would meet me halfway.

It took her a second to catch on, but without hesitation, we closed the space between us in a tender kiss. I stroked her cheek, allowing my knuckle to trace the curve of her jaw. We lingered there for a bit, until she leaned back with a smile. We watched each other, in quiet contemplation for a little while until I broke it.

”I”m worried that I won”t be good for you. That my lack of long-term relationship experience will mess things up.”

”Relationships belong to both people. In your past, maybe the other person, or people, didn”t want something long and neither did you. We both want something long-term, something different and that”s a start,” she said, matter-of-factly in a way that soothed me.

I nodded, returning her hand squeeze when she gripped mine. ”It is. So…what does that mean?”

”It means we”re dating, right? Exclusively.” Her brow narrowed very slightly with the descriptor as if she feared my reaction. ”Right?”

”Right. I”m monogamous.” I chuckled and brushed my thumb over her knuckles.

”Me too. To a fault sometimes. You”ll be the only person that exists to me for a while.” She snickered but shook her head. ”I hope I”m not too much or overwhelming.”

”You haven”t been so far and I”m okay with being someone”s priority. It”s new for me…”

”Me too.” She paused for a moment then asked, ”What are some of your boundaries or things that you don”t like in a relationship? For me, I don”t like to be startled. Like don”t run up behind me or try and scare me. Or tickling. And sometimes if I”m upset, I need space and to not be touched for a little while. And I”ll get very quiet. Talking doesn”t help.”

”All of those make sense. Sometimes I get quiet, too, but mostly it”s being overwhelmed. I”m not the best with social cues in relationships. Tatiana helps me…”

”Social cues in general are difficult for me.” She grew quiet for a moment, then looked toward the window where the city lights shimmered in the light rain. ”But I get by.”

”When talking is hard or doesn”t help, what does?”

”Texting for sure. Or writing notes.” She smiled at me then, her eyes brighter. ”I might not talk but it doesn”t effect my writing. I like to write things down.”

”I noticed your notebook today.”

”I have a lot of them. When I finish one, I take it camping with me and burn it. Or sometimes if I”m in the mood, I shred it. It”s very therapeutic.”

”I was never great at writing things down. But…painting them down, I do.” I smirked at my silly joke.

”I can tell. I love your work. I took pictures of all your street art that I could find. I spent a whole week running around the city looking for it and I only found twelve. How many are there? Do you know?” Her energy spiked suddenly, and she turned more to face me, her cup left abandoned on the coffee table.

”You found that many?” My eyes widened. ”I”m not sure how many. Probably close to thirty bigger pieces? I just…used to go and not think. Probably hundreds of small stuff. Not including what”s been washed away or cleaned away and painted over, over the years.”

”It must be amazing to see the world as you do.” A dreamy expression washed over her features. ”In so many colors.”

”It”s not the world that I see like that. It”s more of its potential that I see.” I picked at my nails where flecks of blue still remained. ”And the disappointment when it doesn”t reach it.”

”People are disappointing for the most part.” She leaned her elbow on the back of the sofa then tucked her legs up beside her. ”But also fascinating. Do you want to see my office?”

”Yeah.” I chuckled and nodded. ”I do, actually.”

”Promise to not tease me for being a super nerd?”

”I swear.” I pressed my palm to my heart, and she giggled.

”Okay. C”mon.” She waved me to follow her.

Everything about Clem”s apartment struck me as slightly different. Not an item was out of place, save for the room she existed in for the time being. I left a tornado in my wake sometimes, while other times I could hardly tolerate something missing. I also didn”t own much. But that was on purpose.

Clem opened the door to her office, and my jaw fell slack as soon as I stepped in. The entire wall on the left held shelves filled with figurines of some kind while the rest of the room harbored high-tech computer equipment. A giant see-through computer monitor filled one wall, while two smaller flat screens sat under it. A wall-length bench-like table with two rolling stools floated under it. The mouse, keyboard, and a bunch of other equipment that I couldn”t identify sat on top. In the area where the closet should be, no doors hung there anymore and, in the space, black boxes piled on top of each other.

”Holy crap, Clem. What is all of this?” I stopped beside the figurines first, tilting my head back to examine the entire wall. In time, I recognized the comic book characters. Everything from DC Comics including Harley Quinn, The Joker, Poison Ivy, etc. sat on one side, while everything Marvel appeared on the other. ”You like comic books?”

”Oh yes.” She smiled up at her collection. ”In those boxes on the bottom, I have some rare comics. Do you like them?”

”Yeah. For sure. You have both DC and Marvel? No preference?”

”No real preference, though I tend to lean toward Marvel. I wish they had more queer representation though.”

”I tend to lean toward DC, but I enjoy it all. Did you watch all the movies and shows?”

”Oh yes.” Clem beamed, her brows lifting with her excitement. ”All of them. How about you?”

I nodded my response. ”Yeah. A lot when I was younger. Nothing better to do in group homes or juvie than watch movies and stuff. They all had tons of old comic books. I became a little obsessed with being a superhero. Mainly the part where their lives change drastically from the downtrodden situations they”re in, until their powers change everything. I always wanted powers to emerge or something.”

”Which one did you want to be like the most?” she asked rather calmly. I couldn”t tell if she related to what I said or if it bothered her.

”I was always torn. Wonder Woman was admirable just like Captain Marvel. Supergirl could fly. Harley Quinn, while not a traditional superhero, had her own benefits and walked to the beat of her own drum. She became a fast favorite. Hard to pick. What about you?”

”Hmm.” She tapped her lip. ”Moon Girl or Lunella Lafayette. She”s not the most known, but she was nine in the comics and said to be the smartest of anyone in the Marvel Universe. Before that, Tony Stark, or Iron Man, for the same reason. Then Ray Palmer, or The Atom in the DC Universe.”

”Being smart is important to you.”

”Yes.” She tossed me a smile over her shoulder while reaching up to pluck a figurine from the shelf. ”It is. This is a rotating shelf. Watch.”

”What—oh.” I hopped back when the entire wall of nerdom slowly slid away then shifted slowly to turn itself around. It revealed her bookshelf packed with all sorts of books. Criminology, psychology, forensics, and genetics with human biology tangled in. My mouth fell open and I stared. ”Whoa.”

”Cool, right? I built it.” Clem brushed her fingers over the book spines. ”They”re all my favorites. This is a room of my favorite things.”

”I really like it. Wow.” I felt the shock roll over me, tangled with the admiration of everything she”d done. I made to touch one of the books, but stopped myself. ”Will it bother you if I touch them?”

”No.” She chuckled softly. ”As long as you don”t rip out the pages. Or borrow it and not return it.”

”I promise.” I tugged down a thick red book called Sex Related Homicide and Death Investigation. The crisp pages brushed my thumb and the spine creaked when I set it down on the desk beside us. I slid onto the stool, tucking my feet on the guard bar and gazed down at the pages.

Clem plucked a book off the shelf as well then settled beside me. As if we practiced this, as if it became a regular endeavor in our routine, we began reading side-by-side. Her attention vanished from me, save the heat of her beside me. We read in parallel, her knee pressed against my thigh as we carefully flipped pages. The book I read dated back almost thirty years and the dated material in it intrigued me. The old-style photos, black and white mostly, the discussions of motives, and psychopathology held my attention for quite a while.

When I emerged from my dozen-page vanishment, I looked over at Clem. Her eyes scanned the pages of a blue-bound book, racing left to right. She twirled a strand of her hair around her finger, occasionally brushing it over her cheek. It flickered against her thick-rimmed glasses, and she became the embodiment of nerdom right there beside me. I felt the smile melt over my lips, parting them as I stared at her. Allowing myself the moment to truly take her in. My stomach flip-flopped, my fingers and toes tingled, and the warmth that ran up my middle all surprised me. In the quiet moment beside her, I had the opportunity to observe my own reactions to her and I enjoyed the feelings that overtook me.

It took her minutes, several of them, before she noticed my attention on her. She smiled, her shy gaze flickering to mine briefly then back down again. To my surprise, her focus returned to me again, this time watching me for longer. Her teeth raked her bottom lip, and I noted the slight blush that glazed her cheeks. I didn”t hesitate this time to run my fingers through her hair, and her smile broadened.

”I really like your favorites room,” I told her, gulping after then continued, ”And I really like you.”

”I really like you, too,” she said, then leaned forward. We met each other halfway, closing the space between us with a delicate kiss.

It turned fiery quickly after, and my hands fell to her legs when she swiveled her stool to face me. In this position, her legs parted around me, and I moved my hands up her thighs in a firm grab. Shakey fingers lingered around my elbows as I nibbled her lips. I loved how she melted to my whims sometimes. For as verbal as she was with her desires, and as vibrant as her enjoyment of our encounters, the initiation always appeared sweetly eager. I liked that about her, too. I didn”t have to question what she wanted. She told me, and her cues when we began were always clear to me.

Our kiss intensified, and she gave my arms a firm squeeze until something beeped behind us. She pulled back abruptly, her eyes widening as she looked over my shoulder.

”I re-sequenced the genomes with more specific and less specific markers to bring about a broader and narrow profile dichotomy for your case,” she blurted out in rapid fire. ”And had the results sent here. I considered the reports you sent about the demolition factory and theorized that if a female perpetrator worked at a demolition factory, a family member, most likely male assigned at birth, probably worked there two. With a cross-section of familial traits, we might find something.”

My breath hitched at the sudden distraction, but her words stole my interest just like hers. ”You did all of that here?”

”Partly. I had the reports sent to my system. It”s sort of a backwards hack situation encrypted with code to route results to me. It looks like the results reported to my office though.” She nibbled her lip again.

”You”re a genius, aren”t you?” I smiled while slipping my arms around her middle. At first, her hands hovered over my shoulders until she grabbed me in a firm hug.

”Not really.” She snickered while squeezing me. ”Want to see what it says?”

”Sure do.” I kissed her cheek, and noted the bouncing excitement that found her in that moment. Somehow I knew that, for as much as sex interested her, this result had a similar pull. When Clem”s mind focused on something, it stayed there until resolved. That perseverance was new to me in a way, but recognizing it and respecting it gave me an understanding and clarity to who she was. ”I can feel your excitement.”

”I am very excited,” she declared, grinning. ”Then after this we can go to the bedroom.”

”Oh, I see. You”re a planner.” I laughed and took her hand, backing up toward the beeping machine.

”I am, indeed.” She chuckled and squeezed my hand. ”For many things.”

”Good to know.”

”It is. It absolutely is.”

My smile remained steadfast as she worked at a heated pace when the giant monitor lit up. I understood exactly nothing of the numbers and figures that flooded her screen. What I did know, however, was that I was starting to understand Clem. At least a little bit. And I hoped she would one day understand me too. For all my ragged edges that contrasted her clean lines, maybe we would fit together differently. Just maybe this was something worth it.