She sits up and yawns. “Oh, hi.”

I pick up one of the throw pillows from the couch that got tossed on the floor. “Is there something wrong with the futon in the office? If it’s not comfortable, we could have switched. I’ve slept in there before.”

“No, it’s fine. I just …” She looks vaguely uncomfortable. “Prefer the couch. I usually work until late and fall asleep on my couch most of the time anyway.”

Understanding dawns and I regret my offhand question. She’s been on her own a long time and shuffled around a lot. I know she didn’t have a lot of money for a while and she once confided that she was living out of her car. Back then, I only knew her as C7pher and since I’d assumed she was a guy, it hadn’t seemed as scary.

Maybe it’s sexist that it bothers me more to think of a girl being homeless but the idea of her that vulnerable hits me hard. Anything could have happened to her out there.

“I understand that. Back in junior high, my mom and I were sharing this one-bedroom apartment so I used to sleep on the pullout couch in the living room. It was years before I could get used to sleeping in a bed, even after I started making money from my software.”

“Yeah it’s hard to change what you’re used to.” Her eyes shift to the coffee pot. When I pull down another coffee mug, she smiles gratefully.

“I brought your luggage and computer from the hotel last night. Send me the emails from the guy who hired you. I’ll get to work on tracing them and see what I can find.”

The wary look comes back into her eyes. “Luke, you really don’t have to. I can do it.”

“I know you can. Better than I can. But sometimes it helps to have someone else working on it. Someone who has some objectivity, you know?”

She concedes the point with a small nod and then pours a cup of coffee. “Thanks for the help. Even though I seem ungrateful, I truly do appreciate it.”

 My attempt to shift the attention away from her works and she seems to relax. After she turns on her computer, she forwards me the emails and then disappears into the back, pulling her suitcase behind her. She emerges five minutes later wearing jeans and a sweatshirt with a picture of the Wi-Fi symbol on it. Her hair is pulled up into a high ponytail and she looks so damn young.

After a quick breakfast and my required cup of coffee, I show Seven my tentative plans for the coding school.

It’s surreal to be talking about this to someone who actually understands why it matters so much and she has some really great insights to add. Technology programs in most schools aren’t where they should be yet and girls especially aren’t encouraged to pursue it.

For the first time, I really see what she means. The same reasons she was scared to out herself to me are the obstacles we need to help these kids overcome. There has to be a significant outreach to girls in order to overcome that stupid stigma that technology is a guy thing.

It’s almost lunchtime by the time we’re done. When I look over at Seven, her eyes are closed and her head is resting against the back of the couch. She’s clearly tired so I stand carefully, trying not to disturb her, and move to the kitchen table.

I decide to use the time to investigate the emails she forwarded to me. The email headers give me enough info to figure out the location of the sender.

Dungarvan, Ireland.

So the guy didn’t just sound Irish, he was actually in Ireland when he sent the email.

A sense of foreboding has my hands pausing on the keys. What if Max is somehow part of this? Do I really want to know? I’ve been staying away from him for a reason but what if there’s something I can protect Seven from?

With a little frustrated groan, I get up to make more coffee. This is something I’ll have to think on for a while. I want to help but there are some boxes that once opened, you can never close again. Before I do anything I can’t take back, I need to be really sure. Hell, maybe the FBI will figure it all out and I won’t even have to get involved.

Satisfied with that possibility, I decide to tinker on my software design while Seven is sleeping. This software will be designed to make any home or business run more efficiently. Software like this already exists but my version will take it a step further. Not only will the client be able to turn off lights, control temperature, and set the alarm from the web interface but there’s also a component that integrates with their banking system. They’ll be able to pay bills, order maintenance checks on appliances and schedule maid service. It’ll be like a virtual butler that runs your home for you once you input a few parameters.

Working on something new is always exhilarating and before I realize it, three hours have passed. I glance behind me to where Seven is still asleep. She hasn’t stirred once.

I kneel on the floor next to the couch and tap her gently on the arm. After a few moments, she swallows and then rolls toward me. Finally her eyes open. The soft, sleepy look on her face makes my heart roll over in my chest.

“Hungry?”

Her eyes trail down and stop at my chest. Then she smiles. “Yeah.”

I swallow hard. It somehow feels like we’re talking about more than food. It’s an effort to halt the dirty thoughts that start running through my head. Her soft, husky voice makes just that one word sound like foreplay but that doesn’t mean she wants me to take it that way.

Down boy.

“We can go into Norfolk or Virginia Beach for lunch, if you want? It takes a little longer to get there but we’ll have more choices.”

She sits up and stretches her arms overhead, the hem of her sweatshirt rising enough to show off a patch of taut, pale skin on her belly.

“We’re not going back to the bakery for lunch?”

“Uh, no.”

It’s impossible to miss her pout. But she follows me outside to my car and when she says that she’s okay with burgers, I drive one city over to New Haven to The Rush. It’s an old school diner with great burgers and shakes. I honestly would have eaten cardboard if it meant I didn’t have to see anyone I know.

After we order and Seven is working on sucking down a chocolate shake, I finally relax. She looks around and then says, “I like this place. But I still don’t understand why we couldn’t go to the bakery. I really wanted to see it again.”

“We’ll go back again, don’t worry. Before long you’ll be sick of the place. I just can’t keep bringing you there. It’ll only get my mom’s hopes up.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” She looks confused. “Otherwise, why tell her that I’m your girlfriend in the first place?”

“She thinks I’m alone too much. If she thinks I have a girlfriend then maybe she won’t stress out so much about me dying old and alone. But I don’t want to put you through an Anita Marshall inquisition.”

She slurps up the last of her shake. “I think it’s nice that you’re so close to your mom.”

“My mom raised me by herself and her family wasn’t that supportive in the beginning. So yeah, for a long time it was the two of us against the world. I adore her. But she can be pretty aggressive when it comes to protecting her baby boy.  If you thought that FBI interrogation was bad, they’ve got nothing on my mom. She was probably mentally measuring you for a wedding dress last night hoping to get you locked down before you come to your senses.”

Seven laughs, shaking her head in disbelief. “Oh come on. It can’t be that bad. Like you don’t have plenty of girlfriends already.”

My heart starts beating a little faster. Is she flirting with me? I’ve never been good at this part. When you spend most of your time communicating with a computer, it’s difficult to gauge when someone is being sincere or just being polite. Computers don’t require social niceties so I’m aware that I’m a little deficient in that area.

“Not really. I’m always working and I can never think of much to say on dates anyway.”