I am once again in Marcus’s apartment.

His posh little pad is not so bad, especially in comparison to my place.

I had wanted to leave after having sex in his car, but he convinced me to come with him. Like I said, he’s so charming.

But I’m really here because it occurred to me that I hadn’t had the time at the restaurant to tell Marcus my final decision about not being interested in joining his organization.

Somehow I have to break the bad news to him.

But now is not the time, as he’s handing me a delicious glass of wine, which I eagerly take. I curl up on his couch, and he turns the fire on before joining me.

He’s always a delectable sight to see walking around. It sure beats being in my apartment alone with my computer. Marcus looks like a model, albeit a rugged one. I could watch him all day.

He brings the bottle of wine over and joins me on the couch where I curl up next to him.

“So, Katy, I know you’re an activist but I don’t really know what you do. Can you tell me more?” he says.

I know I can’t open up to him about my entire life, but maybe I can tell him some small details. Once again, the fact that I’m venturing onto dangerous ground does not elude me.

In truth, I’ve never gotten close to anyone enough to be on such sharp alert as this.

But Marcus seems nice, and I did check him out, and everything should be in order. So I tell him a couple of things about my life. He deserves at least that for making me come so hard.

“Well, I mostly interact with an online community of people. I’ve never met any of them in real life. They share the same thoughts and ideas as I do when it comes to activism. It’s a unique situation, but it keeps me pretty busy. That’s really all I can say.”

He puts his arm around my shoulder and says, “That’s really interesting. So it’s all basically all online, huh? How do you exist like that, never seeing people?”

“Hey, I see people. Sometimes.”

I figure now is not the time to tell him about my lack of family or friends. It’s kind of weird that my only interaction with people is in a virtual online community of hackers, but that’s just the way I roll.

He seems attentive, and he keeps asking questions.

“So what areas of activism really interest you? I know you take pride in helping the poor, but what else?” he asks.

“Yeah, I’m interested in helping the poor,” I say. At least that part’s the truth. “But I want my reach to extend further than that. I want to help the poor in not just a small way but in an enormous way. They deserve at least that. They need to have a voice. They need to have someone fighting for them.”

“I’m impressed, Katy. I’m very impressed. What you do is remarkable when you think about it,” he says.

I look up into his deep, gray eyes and say, “Well you’re into the same things, aren’t you? I mean your whole organization hinges on helping the poor. Am I right?”

His eyes darken and do that thing that makes me wonder what he’s thinking.

“That’s right. That’s what we do basically. Which is why we’d love to have you be a part of it.”

There’s no better time like the present to tell him the news I’ve been dreading all night. I have to let him know that there’s absolutely no future for us in terms of his organization or anything else. Now is the moment.

“Marcus, I have to tell you something that is really hard to say. I need you to know that I’m really not interested in joining your organization. I don’t need your help, and I don’t need the support of an organization to help my activism. I’m doing fine by myself. But I do appreciate it.”

He doesn’t look downcast or anything. He looks pretty fascinated...in me.

Doesn’t he care at all that I just turned down the job he’s been offering? Marcus remains a bit of a mystery, even though I technically know all about his life because I researched it.

Still, there’s a part of him that’s far removed from me, and I’m aching to get to know it. I want to understand all of him.

“You know, Marcus, if you really want to know me more, you can join in an outreach program that I volunteer at,” I joke.

I don’t know why I even extended the invitation. I’m trying to lighten the mood, and I just hope it works. I’ve just turn them down after all.

To my surprise so he says, “Yes, I’d love that.”

The fact that he just took that offer seriously sends a swarm of nerves going through my body. The idea of seeing Marcus in the future makes me nervous. The idea of sitting here on his couch in his posh apartment makes me nervous. Everything about Marcus makes me nervous.

He pours me some more wine, and we begin to talk all through the night. I ask him about his family and about his interests and everything.

He asks me the same, and I have to lie a couple times, but also I tell him some of my truth. I don’t lay my whole life out there for him to see, but I do tell him bits and pieces that are real, like that my favorite food is sushi and that I have to have a pot of black coffee every morning just to wake up.

He strokes my legs and rubs my back. I lean into him and feel safe against his solid, rock-hard body. The fire flickers into the night as we keep talking.

It’s fun getting to know him in this more intimate way. Usually, we’re just having sex, not talking like this.

The fact that he can hold a conversation with me is endearing. I hate to be narcissistic, but most people bore me to death.

Not Marcus. He’s enchanting and charming and everything a woman could want.

Too bad it’s not gonna last.

He’ll get over me quickly, I tell myself.

We drink so much wine that I don’t realize that I’ve fallen asleep on his couch.

I dream of him and of hacking and of our two lives intersecting. In my dream, everything explodes. Marcus finds out who I truly am, and my dream turns into a nightmare. He leaves me because he despises my lifestyle.

I guess my inner fears are embedded within my subconscious and are expressing themselves.

I awaken with a start, and I’m alone in his bed. He must’ve moved me here. We didn’t even have sex last night.

There’s a note on his pillow telling me find the breakfast he arranged for me on the table, and that I can stay as long as I like.

He must’ve gone to work early.

I stretch and wake up, taking my time to get ready. To my utter delight, he has a pot of black coffee waiting just for me. I eat the breakfast he’s laid out, and I stay until just before lunch.

I feel cozy and comfortable in his apartment. It’s a feeling I relish. Normally I’m not so at ease with strangers. I guess Marcus is becoming less of a stranger and more somebody I care about.

I leave a note saying thank you to him before I go.

I make sure to keep everything in order. I make the bed and clean up after myself so that he can come home to a spotless apartment.

And then I leave.

Except for the first time, I’m not running away.