“Watt,” she started to say, but he was talking at the same time, his words falling clumsily over hers.

“I owe you an apology. I should never have accused you of— I just—”

“Let’s not talk about it,” Leda pleaded. Her chest throbbed with confused emotion, and she scooted closer to Watt. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately. And I’m finally starting to . . .” Make things right was what she wanted to say, but it didn’t quite fit. “Move past it.”

“I’m glad, Leda.”

Watt reached tentatively for her hand, and Leda laced her fingers in his. The holographic waves crashed over them, almost soothing in their repetitions.

“I lost MIT,” Watt said after a moment.

Leda’s head darted up. “You lost MIT?” No wonder he seemed so defeated.

Watt’s jaw hardened, his gaze clouding over. “I botched the interview. They asked me to leave.”

“Oh, Watt. I’m so sorry.” Leda knew the words were inadequate; but what could you say to someone who’d just lost their lifelong dream?

“It was my mistake. I tried too hard to be something that I’m not.” Watt sighed. “On top of losing you, it felt like more than I could handle—that I had somehow screwed up everything in my life through my own foolishness.”

“Watt, you haven’t lost me,” Leda assured him. “I just needed some time. I’m scared of myself . . . of what I might have done. But I don’t want to push you away.”

She looked over at him. The blood rushed to the thin skin over the bones of her chest; she felt her heartbeat echoing in the space within her ribs. There were no secrets between them, she realized, dazed. Nothing between her and Watt except for space.

Then his arms were around her, and she was pressing her mouth to his, certain that she would never get enough of him.

They fell back against the holo-console and it erupted into a dozen displays at once, like fireworks. Watt broke away. “Sorry,” he mumbled, but Leda just laughed. She didn’t care.

She realized that all she wanted was to be alone with Watt, away from everything. Somewhere they could shut away the world, if only for a little while. “Do you want to get out of here?” Leda twisted at a coil of her hair, suddenly nervous. “My parents are away. I mean, if you want to.”

“Yeah. Of course,” Watt stammered, as if half afraid she might change her mind.

“Okay.” Leda reached for his hand again and gave it a squeeze. There was that impish smile she loved, curling up at the corners of his mouth.

When they were back upTower, through the front door of her family’s place and up the stairs to her room, Leda pulled the door shut behind her.

To think that at this time last year, Watt had been nothing to her but the person who filled her hacking requests. Now he was her co-conspirator, her partner in crime, the boy she loved. Watt had slipped into her life and under her skin, and Leda was so very glad of it, even though she knew it was what he’d intended all along.

Well, if she was going to do this, she’d damned well better dive in headfirst.

WATT

WATT HADN’T BEEN in Leda’s bedroom for almost a year.

It was different, he thought—hollower, with new blank spaces on the walls and shelves. Leda had meant it when she said she had tried to sweep away all the detritus of her former life.

But she was still Leda, still the girl he loved, standing before him—slight and trembling, yet not fragile at all. Watt knew the implacability of her strength, like a blade that was whip-thin but sharp.

“Leda,” Watt said softly. “We don’t have to, um . . .”

In answer, Leda grabbed Watt’s shirt to pull him closer, and kissed him.

They fell backward onto her bed in a feverish tangle. Leda fumbled with the hooks and fastenings of Watt’s jacket, tossing it aside. He reached behind her to pull the zipper of her dress. “Here, let me,” Leda said impatiently, tearing herself away from him just long enough to shimmy out of it. It fell onto the floor with a hiss.

Then she was facing him in nothing but her wispy bra and underwear. Watt felt his heartbeat echoing in the space between them.

He reached up tentatively to trace her smile. He adored Leda’s mouth, the eager fullness of it. He adored everything about her: the arch of her neck, the softness of her arms, the way she fit so perfectly tucked into his chest. Everywhere they touched seemed to explode in a white-hot friction.

Watt regretted every moment of the last year he hadn’t spent with her. He regretted every kiss that he had ever given to anyone who wasn’t Leda, because he knew now how much a kiss could mean.

He loved Leda—for her wildness and her inner fire and her fierce, stubborn pride. He loved that she was more ruthlessly alive than anyone he had ever met. He wanted so desperately to tell her that he loved her, but he didn’t dare, because he was terrified it might send her running. Instead he kept kissing her, again and again and again, trying to pour his love into the kisses.

He hoped, desperately, that she loved him too.

Early the next morning, Watt leaned on one elbow, glancing down at Leda with unadulterated wonder.

She shifted on the pillow, which was warm and slightly perfumed from where she’d slept. The dim light gleamed on her earrings, which Watt realized were shaped like a pair of tiny crescent moons. He wondered if they had some meaning: if Leda had bought them on a trip, maybe, or if they’d been a gift. He felt hungry for every last detail about anything that mattered to Leda.