His flat is so much bigger than mine. Four doorways line the corridor: I guess a bedroom for each of the boys, and then a bathroom. Jack heads for the door at the far end of the hall, holding it open for me to enter.
His room is much messier than the rest of the flat. There’s stuff everywhere. Posters cramming the walls. Clothes crumpled on his black bedspread. He has three different computers set up on his desk: a plain laptop, a sleek PC with a massive screen, and a chunky white computer that looks like it came straight out of the eighties.
He rubs the back of his head, embarrassed. “Sorry about the mess. I’ve been patching the last few days. Things like tidying and laundry kind of fall down the priority list.”
“Patching?” I look around. Despite the clutter, I like it here. It’s cosy. He’s got turquoise LEDs lining the ceiling, and they give the room an ambient glow.
He nods, heading towards a dresser and pulling open a drawer. “I’m a game developer. We’re currently in the testing phase, so I have to write out all the bugs and glitches. I swear, they pop up out of nowhere. And launch date is coming up soon, so—” he shrugs, sifting through the drawer. “I’ve got a lot on my plate.”
“You’re about to have a lot more, if Cami is yours.”
I can’t see his face, but I canhearhis voice soften like he’s smiling. “Yeah. I guess so. That’s a good problem, though.”
I glance around. There’s a set of shelves nailed to the wall above his desk, stuffed with what I assume are books. As I get closer, I see they’re actually the book-shaped cardboard boxes they used to sell old, floppy-disk computer games in. He probably has hundreds packed into his shelves.
“Wow,” I look through his collection. “This is awesome. You play them on that?” I point at the ancient-looking PC, and he nods.
“It was my Dad’s. He wanted to chuck it, but I took it apart and souped it up, and now I can play all of his old games.”
Jesus. I figured that Jack was smart, but he’s clearly on another level. I examine the boxes. Some of them are plain cardboard, with the titles scribbled on in felt-tip. Maybe games he programmed himself? “The Ruby Dungeon?”I read aloud.
He turns to see what I’m looking at and bites his lip. “It’s a D&D-based game I made back in uni. Dumb, really.”
“I don’t think so. I used to play dungeons and dragons, back at the—”
I snap my mouth shut.
Christ. I’d almost saidthe care home.“Back home,” I say.
I’m not embarrassed about growing up in the care system. But I don’t like chatting about it with strangers. Pity isn’t a great base to start new friendships on.
“Here.” Jack straightens, passing a hoodie to me. It’s white and crisp, with a faded university logo on the front. “What did you play?”
I smile. “Dragon-born bard. I used to ad-lib songs about our adventures and accompany them with hauntingly beautiful tunes on my plastic recorder.”
He jabs a thumb at his chest. “Halfling rogue. No one saw me coming before I got a knife in their back.”
“Impressive.” I wriggle into the hoodie. It’s warm and unbelievably soft, and smells like sweet soap. I fight the urge to huff the scent right out of the fabric like a total freak.
“I’d invite you to play with my group,” Jack continues, “but I haven’t had the time in months. Everything has been so hectic.”
“S’okay,” I say, popping my head out of the hoodie and fixing my mussed up hair. “I’m not sure you’re quite ready for my recorder skills, anyway. They can be overwhelming.”
Jack doesn’t say anything. He’s staring at me, his eyes trailing over his hoodie. “You look nice,” he blurts out. “In my clothes.” I blink at him, and he cringes. “Sorry. That sounded weird. I’ve been up almost two days straight.” He shakes his head. “Thank you so much for doing this, Beth. You have no idea how much you’re helping us out.”
“No need to thank me. I told you. I expect compensation in TV privileges.” I shift my weight. “I’m, um, actually really glad that you called on me. I’ve seen you around the building before, but I never had a reason to talk to you.”
“Me too,” he says quietly.
I don’t know which of us moves closer, but suddenly, he’s right in front of me, so close I can see the LEDs reflecting in his blue eyes like tiny turquoise starbursts. My heart pounds in my chest. Heat prickles over my skin. His gaze flicks down to my mouth, and he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing.
There’s a noise from the lounge, and I step back, breaking the spell.
“Okay. Go kill your bugs. I’ll take care of the illegitimate child.”
“Thank you,” he says again. I smile and head back out into the lounge.
Cami’s still sleeping peacefully in her carrier. I wipe a bit of drool off her cheek and climb onto the sofa.