Chapter Fifteen

Hawk

And on the seventh day, God rested. Except it’s the end of the sixth day, and I celebrate inside as I type in the final lines of code that will complete this software. I’ve had to piss for the last hour and a half, but I haven’t been willing to tear myself away from my computer. Neither of us has said a word since this morning, and there have been a few times when I’m pretty sure one or both of us even forgot to breathe. I feel the hunger, the pure drive of a race car, its engine roaring and overheated as it approaches the sweet release of the finish line.

A certain kind of intensity always crackles at the end of a project, but it’s never felt like this before. Having someone to share the anticipation with steals my breath and hardens my cock. Even as the thought crosses my mind, I feel my face flush and my skin tingle. My heart hammers against my ribcage like a lunatic trying to escape the bars of his asylum.

Six days since Wav and I had sex, and now we edge crazily close to a whole other kind of climax.

I feel breath tickle the back of my neck and realize that she stands right behind me, watching me put the finishing touches on. Our energies have grown so entwined while working together that they seem to vibrate in perfect harmony. I see her in my peripheral vision, every muscle tense, every cell in her body on edge as her wide eyes flicker from side to side, taking in the new lines of code. She licks her lips and nods almost imperceptibly. What I type feels like it’s coming from both of us at once, like communicating telepathically.

I get to the final line, and my fingers hover over the keys for just a moment, trembling. This is it. Just a few more keystrokes and the most important work I’ve ever done will be completed. If we’ve succeeded in what we set out to do, the results should make my initial plans for this software look like something designed by Fisher-Price.

But then what?

What I’ve shared with Waverly over the past week has been...well, nothing short of magical and that’s not a word I tend to throw around. I never knew I could integrate with another person so completely, and now that I’ve felt that, it’s like a drug that I dread quitting. It’s synergy, and that’s better than any narcotic. Every interaction with her seethes with a beauty I can’t really articulate, an intricate symphony that only we know how to play, with notes interlocking and building on each other into a mysterious crescendo that makes me feel like I can reach out and touch the moon.

When the work ends, and all we have left is each other, will we be able to hang on to this strange sense of symbiosis? Or will it all be yanked out from under us, causing us to falter and retreat back into our separate worlds? I feel like Wile E. Coyote from the old cartoons – afraid that once I stop running and look down, I’ll realize I’ve gone off a cliff and start to plummet helplessly toward my own demise.

Her hand hovers over my shoulder, and she holds her breath again. Somehow, without words, I know her mind races with the same thoughts and fears that I have echoing through my head.

I shake mine. Whatever ends up happening between us, I can’t make this moment last forever, no matter how much I might want to. I inhale...lower my fingers to the keyboard...and tap out the last line of code, hitting the Enter key. When I do, her hand briefly tightens on me, a reflexive, almost orgasmic spasm. We both exhale at the same time.

It’s done.

Waverly removes her hand and retreats to her own computer, hitting the keys that will merge her work with mine. Before the final sequence, she looks up at me with a raised eyebrow.

“Flip the switch, Igor,” I joke weakly.

She favors me with a wan smile and hits Enter.

A progress bar appears on my screen under the word “Downloading.” One-third of the way through, it stops as though it’s slammed into a brick wall, and I hear the fan in my computer panting and wheezing like a fat man climbing a steep staircase.

Shit.

It’s not going to work. The lines of code won’t interact properly, and we’ll end up with a screen full of gobbledygook, maybe even a corrupted drive depending on the severity of the bugs in the software. I search my mind frantically wondering about the last time we backed up our work? I feel like we were so caught up in what we were doing, we ignored the last two alarms we set. Or was it three? How far back will we have to go to rebuild this? Will anything even be salvageable?

The progress bar remains still.

Shit to the nth degree.

Suddenly, my computer lets out a long, grinding, belch-like sound, and the progress bar makes three quick leaps to the end. The screen goes black for a second, and then it lights up with the colorful welcome screen: “SkyEye – Helping Casinos Keep Their Cards Close to the Vest!”

Both of us erupt into triumphant shrieks of laughter. We grab each other and jump up and down in a circle, cackling, “It’s alive! It’s aliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive!”

We chose to name it SkyEye after the series of surveillance cameras casinos generally refer to as “the eye in the sky.” These cameras are monitored by security personnel to try to catch cheaters. But thanks to our software, they’ll be able to do much more than that. On top of the mobile phone tracking feature I’d initially come up with, we developed a facial recognition program that can interface with a database of known cheaters, so security can bounce them more quickly – or even alert the authorities if there are warrants out for the person’s arrest. SkyEye also emits a low-level frequency that detects and disrupts electronics used for cheating, all without affecting people’s cell phones or other devices.

It’ll make us millions of dollars, but more than that, it’s a gorgeous piece of software that will be utilized for years to come.

And we did it together.

We stop jumping up and down and look into each other’s eyes. Even without words, it’s clear we’re both having the same thoughts beginning and ending with now what?

Then, before I know it, her lips are pressed against mine, and we clutch each other so tightly it hurts. It feels inevitable, and in that moment, I know what we’ve found with each other won’t go away just because the project ended. It feels like there’s no force on earth that could drag us apart, and I surrender to it with blind faith.

Later, we’ll order pizza and sing along to Oingo Boingo’s “Weird Science” and talk about anything but programming and finally have a night of real, deep, restful sleep.

But now, we tear each other’s clothes off and make love like our personal joining will bless our software baby.