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Chapter Twenty-Nine

Andrew

My head is a tangle of thoughts.

I’m still reeling from the fact Justin has face blindness.

Because it changes everything about that night at the pub that started this whole debacle. I’d interpreted his blank look as the ultimate insult, proof that I’d meant so little to him that he couldn’t even remember my face.

But he literally couldn’t recognize me.

Justin and I go to his apartment after the Winter Wonderland. He kisses and touches and makes love to me with such intensity that every nerve ending in my body is rewired to respond only to him, leaving me trembling and breathless against his sheets.

After he’s fallen asleep with his arms around me, I gently extract myself from his embrace, turning toward him so I can study the faint freckle just below his ear, the way his forehead smooths out in sleep, the stubble along his jaw that I’ve now memorized with my fingertips.

I’d hated him so much in high school, but hadn’t one small part of me actually liked the fact that Justin paid attention to me?

It meant Justin Morris, captain of the football team, class president, the most gorgeous guy in existence, had noticed me.

And when I saw him in the pub, hadn’t that been the thing that had bothered me the most? The fact that he hadn’t recognized me?

So I’d come up with this elaborate scheme, disguised as getting one back for the little guy, just to get him to notice me again.

I’ve gotten my wish.

Justin Morris is definitely noticing me now.

And I have no idea if I actually want him to stop.

The thought is still swirling around in my head when I arrive at Justin’s apartment the next evening after work.

“Perfect timing,” Justin calls out from the kitchen. “Dinner’s just about ready.”

I follow him into the kitchen, where the scent of the spaghetti sauce wraps around me like a welcome.

Justin’s at the stovetop, stirring a saucepan. He turns to give me a smile.

“Here.” He holds out a spoon. “Tell me if it needs anything.”

The sauce is perfect, of course.

“I think you already know it’s amazing,” I say after swallowing.

His eyes crinkle at the corners. “Maybe I just like watching your face when you try my cooking.”

“Careful, that ego of yours will need its own zip code soon.”

“Too late. It already has one. Sends me postcards occasionally, usually bragging about the weather.”

I laugh, and his smile transforms his whole face.

“How was your day?” I ask, partly to distract myself from the guilt gnawing at my insides.

Justin’s shoulders stiffen as he turns back to the stove. “I actually spent most of it researching face blindness. It’s kind of crazy, you know? Finding out there’s actually a name for something you’ve been dealing with your whole life.”

“How are you feeling about it?”

“Honestly? I’m mostly relieved. Like…all these things I blamed myself for finally make sense.” He adds a splash of wine to the sauce, the alcohol sizzling as it hits the pan. “But now I’m even more terrified about our customer Christmas function at the end of next week. We’ve got over two hundred customers coming, and I’m supposed to know who all the important ones are.”

“Have you thought about strategies that might help?”

“Besides hiring a town crier to announce everyone as they arrive?” He turns back to me with a grin, but this one doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ve been going through LinkedIn photos, trying to memorize people’s distinguishing features. Like Janet always wears statement necklaces or Mike has that weird handlebar mustache.” He stirs the sauce slowly. “But what if Janet decides to go minimalist that day? What if Mike finally listens to his wife and shaves?”

Studying Justin’s profile and how he’s biting his lip makes me realize how much this is affecting him. I can’t imagine having to walk into a room full of people you’re supposed to impress when you’ve got this kind of disadvantage.

The idea hits me like a lightning bolt.

Facial recognition software combined with a discreet notification system… I could build something that would help Justin navigate social situations without anyone knowing. Use my skills for something good instead of…whatever this revenge plot has morphed into.

“You’ve managed to cope until now,” I say, pushing my glasses up my nose to try to hide the excitement building inside me.

“Yeah, but that was before I knew what this was. Now… It’s like I’m re-examining everything….” He trails off, focusing intently on the sauce. “I’m sure I’ve hurt lots of people without meaning to. People would have assumed I was being deliberately cruel when really I just couldn’t recognize them.”

The weight of his words settles in my chest.

Seeing Justin’s distress at the thought of hurting people really makes me want to ask him what he remembers about bullying me. Because that wasn’t unintentional hurt. He knew what he was doing.

Does he regret it in hindsight? Even if he doesn’t know it was me he bullied, the Justin I know now must regret hurting Andrew Yates, right?

“You can’t do anything to change the past now,” I say, and I have to ignore the cackle of ironic laughter I’m sure the universe is giving right now. “And you never meant to hurt someone by not recognizing them.”

“Do intentions actually matter if the impact on people is the same?” Justin asks quietly.

His words strike me like bullets.

“I don’t think accidentally hurting someone is the same as deliberately hurting someone,” I say.

Shit. I don’t really want to examine that idea too closely right now. I run my hand through my hair.

“I think we’ve all got a mixture of good and bad inside us,” I continue slowly. “What’s that old proverb? There is a battle of the good and bad wolf inside us, and the one that wins is the one you feed.”

Justin’s eyes meet mine, startlingly intense. “Sometimes I feel like I spent so many years feeding the wrong wolf. Being who other people wanted me to be instead of… Instead of who I actually am. Do you know what I mean?”

The honesty in his voice makes something twist inside me.

“Trust me, I know exactly what you mean,” I say softly.

We stare at each other for a few heartbeats before Justin looks away.

“This feels like an intense conversation to be having on an empty stomach,” he says.

“Just slightly,” I say.

He puts down his wooden spoon and steps toward me. “I just realized I didn’t even say a proper hello to you.”

I raise an eyebrow. “What constitutes a proper hello?”

But my words are redundant because he’s pulling me into his arms.

I breathe in the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with garlic and tomatoes. His hands are warm against my back, his heart beating steady and strong where our chests press together.

I need to stick to my plan—help Justin find his feet with his sexuality and then leave without him ever knowing the truth. Leave him with good memories of his friend Drew, who he had a great time with.

But as Justin’s fingers thread through my hair, as he kisses me, I suddenly realize that none of my previous achievements had ever given me what Justin has in these last few months— the simple joy of making someone laugh, of having someone care about me, of being seen and accepted.

Not as a tech wunderkind or a successful CEO, but just as me. Even if that me is built on a lie.

“Your sauce is going to burn,” I murmur against his lips.

“Mmm. Maybe I’ll just go for the charred tomato flavor today,” he says before deepening our kiss.

Designing an app usually takes a minimum of six months from initial concept to execution.

I’m aiming to get it done in less than two weeks.

And it turns out that when you’re prepared to call in favors from all the brightest minds in Silicon Valley, plus throw around obscene amounts of money, things can happen fast.

This is me making it up to Justin for all the revenge pranks I pulled when I first arrived at DTL Enterprises, using my skills and money for something that matters instead of indulging in petty revenge fantasies.

I’ll develop an app for Justin to make life easier for him and others with face blindness. It’s the least I can do.

The only problem is that Justin and I spend nearly every evening together, so it’s hard to conceal what I’m doing.

I usually wait until he falls asleep before I extract myself from his arms and sneak out to his living room. Tabitha and Cassie keep me company as I coordinate the app development across time zones.

“You know,” Justin’s voice comes from behind me one night around midnight, making me jump so violently I almost dislodge Tabitha from her perch next to me. “Normal people count sheep when they can’t sleep instead of typing like they’re trying to break their keyboard.”

My heart races as I casually minimize my screen before turning to look at him.

He’s leaning against the doorframe, barely awake. His hair sticks up on one side, and there’s a pillow crease on his cheek that shouldn’t be adorable but somehow is.

“When have I ever pretended to be normal?” I ask, and he laughs as he comes forward.

He flops next to me on the couch, kissing the side of my head.

“You’re working too hard,” he says.

“I’m just trying to finish off this system upgrade for Marketing before Christmas.”

It scares me how easily lies fall off my lips right now.

I make a mental note to make sure I actually upgrade marketing’s system before Christmas to make it less of a lie.

Justin studies me for so long I wonder if he’s falling back asleep with his eyes still open before he finally speaks. “I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but it really feels like your skills are wasted as a help desk technician.”

I lean away from my laptop, my heart pounding.

“I had a more intense job in the States,” I say cautiously. “But…it wasn’t exactly healthy for me. I got too engrossed in my work to the point where I forgot what life was like outside my office.”

“What do you mean?” Justin shifts closer, his knee brushing mine.

“I was working eighty-hour weeks, sleeping at the office. Leo used to joke that I was in a committed relationship with my laptop.” I huff a laugh, but it’s not exactly funny.

“That sounds intense,” Justin says.

“I basically stopped existing outside of work,” I say. “Everything became about the next deadline, the next milestone.”

“It must have been lonely.”

A lump rises in my throat. Because it was lonely. I was dreadfully, painfully lonely.

“It was. But I didn’t realize how lonely until I stopped. It’s like… You know when you’ve been wearing headphones for so long you forget what silence sounds like?”

“Until you take them off, and suddenly everything sounds different?”

“Exactly. Coming here was like taking the headphones off. And now I’m trying to work out what I want to do with the rest of my life.”

“Is working at DTL Enterprises helping you with that?”

I stare back at him. At NovaCore, I knew exactly who I was supposed to be. But at DTL Enterprises, pretending to be someone else while fixing printers and trading jokes over morning tea, I’ve somehow stumbled into feeling more like myself than ever before. “Sometimes I feel like it’s helping me… And sometimes it feels like it’s confusing me more.”

Justin shifts on the couch, angling his body toward mine. His fingers find the hem of my T-shirt, playing with it absently.

The sleepiness has faded from his expression, replaced by intent.

“What’s that look for?” I try to sound stern, but I’m fairly sure the playfulness in my voice undoes it.

“I’m trying to figure out how to lure you back to bed.” He nuzzles into my neck, placing his lips on the skin beneath my ear.

“I’m sure you can come up with a way,” I gasp, and he laughs against my skin.

He places another butterfly kiss on my neck, then slowly moves his lips up to trace a path along my jawline.

When he reaches the corner of my mouth, he pauses just long enough to make me ache for more, his breath warm against my lips.

And then we’re kissing, slow, drugged kisses that are so familiar now.

I don’t understand how kissing Justin can feel like muscle memory and revelation wrapped into one, my body knowing exactly what to do while my mind still marvels at each touch.

He pulls me onto his lap, tugging my T-shirt over my head between kisses.

When our bare chests press together, he makes this sound against my mouth that I want to record and play on a loop forever.

At least I seem to be nailing my “make Justin comfortable with his sexuality” mission.

Every intimate exchange between us has helped me forgive Past Justin. Having him want me so bad, dig his fingers into my skin like I’m something precious he can’t bear to let go of, has helped heal that wounded teenage part of me that thought I’d never be wanted like this.

Especially not by someone like Justin Morris.

Our kissing turns urgent, and we become too impatient to make it back to bed. I know Justin’s body so well now. I know how to make his breath hitch. I know how to make him whimper by brushing my lips behind his ear. I know how to trail my fingers down his spine to draw out the breathy gasps I want to catalog and keep forever.

I know how to make him come apart with my name on his lips.

But it’s not my real name, so it feels like victory and defeat.

When we finally stumble back to his bed, sated and boneless, I hold Justin until he falls asleep in my arms.

But I can’t switch my mind off.

This is supposed to be about me getting Justin comfortable in his sexuality, giving him some experience so he’ll be more confident when he finally decides to come out.

But in teaching Justin, I’m also learning a lot about myself.

Justin and I have agreed things between us are just casual, but there are aspects—how much time we spend together, how naturally we’ve fallen into this rhythm of shared meals and inside jokes and casual touches—that have a relationship vibe.

While I’m helping Justin come to grips with his sexuality, is he also teaching me skills for how to be in a relationship? How to be present with someone without constantly looking for ulterior motives, how to let someone see the messy parts of me without immediately reaching for my shield of sarcasm.

I’ve put off thinking about leaving until I finish designing the app for him because I want to give him this gift to make up for everything I’ve done.

But am I actually doing what’s best for Justin?

Or am I selfishly delaying leaving because I don’t want this thing between us to end?