Hate floats together with love

Chapter 3:New city

HATE FLOATS TOGETHER WITH LOVE

PART 1: THE REVENGE

CHAPTER 3: NEW CITY

North Ridge High has a rumor mill. It runs faster than the WiFi.

By Thursday, the rumor was: The Prep reject is hacking Justin Sterling.

They were not wrong.

Thursday. 10:58pm. Sterling Tech Tower. B2.

The service elevator smelled like ozone and secrets. I swiped the keycard Justin left in my locker. No note. Just the card and a post it:

His handwriting tilted left when he was nervous. The whole note tilted left.

The door slid open.

Justin was already there. Black hoodie. Sailor Moon this time. He had not noticed me yet. He was pacing, chewing his hoodie string, muttering to a server rack like it owed him money.

“You talk to computers more than people,” I said.

He spun. Actually spun. Dropped his flash drive. “Y you are early.”

“You are blushing.” I stepped in. The door shut behind me. “Again.”

“I am not, it is hot in here.” He bent to grab the drive. Did not look at me. “Servers. They run hot.”

“Sure.” I walked past him, close enough that my sweater brushed his arm. He sucked in a breath like I had run admin on his lungs. “So. You brought me to your lair, Sterling. What is the plan? You going to show me your big database?”

His entire face went red. “I, that is not, I do not—”

I laughed. Soft. “Relax. I am kidding.” Beat. “Mostly.”

He pushed his glasses up. He was not wearing glasses. “Why, why are you here?”

“You invited me. Y/N? Remember?” I pulled out my laptop. Sat on his workbench. Crossed my legs. His eyes did the thing, flick down, snap back up, pretend it did not happen. “You wanted to see what I can do.”

He swallowed. “Yeah. Code. You said, code.”

“Mhm.” I opened my terminal. Black screen. White text. His language. “Ethan’s project. SterlingPayv1.3FINAL_FINAL. He is launching next month. CEO’s golden boy.”

Justin’s jaw ticked. “It is trash.”

“It is worse. It is a theft kit.” I typed. Fast. Lines flew. “He left backdoors. On purpose. Every transaction over 10k pings a dummy account. Guess whose account?”

Justin leaned in. Just a little. Then remembered himself and rocked back. “H his?”

“Worse. Yours.” I spun the laptop. “Daddy set it up. If the app gets hacked, it looks like you did it. Ethan gets to play hero. You get disowned. Again.”

His face went from red to white in 0.3 seconds. “He would not—”

“He would. He did.” I stood. Took a step toward him. “I can patch it. Tonight. Right now. No one knows but us.”

He backed up. Hit the server rack. Trapped. “Why? Why would you, why help me?”

I put a hand on the rack next to his head. Did not touch him. Just caged him. “Because Ethan took three years from me. I want ten from him.” I tilted my head. “And because you looked at my code before you looked at me. Nobody has ever done that.”

That broke him. His eyes got shiny. Not crying. Overloading.

“I, I do not know how to—” He gestured between us. “This. I do not do this.”

“I know.” I tapped his chest. One finger. Over his heart. His hoodie was soft. He was shaking. “That is why I like you.”

He made a sound. Like a modem connecting in 1998.

“Can I, can I touch your laptop?” he whispered.

I blinked. Then I got it. He was not asking about the laptop. He was asking permission. For everything.

“Yes,” I said. “You can touch my laptop, Justin.”

He reached out. Hands hovering over the keyboard like it was holy. His fingers brushed mine when he typed.

He hit enter. Then realized what he typed.

“Oh god.” He tried to delete it. I caught his wrist.

“Leave it.” I smiled. Real this time. Weaponized. “I like admin access.”

He did not breathe for five seconds. Then: “You are going to compile me to death.”

“Only if you like it.”

---

11:14pm. Patch done. Tracker installed. Every time Ethan skims, we know.

I packed up. He was still against the rack. Still red. Still staring at my hands like they rewrote his source code.

“Friday,” he mumbled. “Hackathon. We, we are partners?”

“We are partners.” I walked to the elevator. Turned. “Oh, and Justin?”

“Y yeah?”

“Ethan does not know about this room. Or that you can code. He thinks you are the family screwup.” I hit the button. Doors opened. “Let us keep it that way. He underestimates you. I do not.”

He nodded. Too fast. “O okay.”

Doors started to close.

“Chloe!” He blurted it. Like it cost him HP.

I stuck my hand in. Doors reopened. “Yeah?”

“You, you blush too. When you talk about crashing him.” His voice was barely there. “I saw. Yesterday. In CompSci.”

He was right. I did.

I stepped back into the elevator with him. Pushed him against the wall. Not hard. Just there. My mouth an inch from his ear so he could feel the words, not just hear them.

“Good,” I whispered. “Then you know I am serious.”

His whole body locked up. Like I had just injected malware into his brain stem.

“G good,” he echoed. Voice cracked.

I left him there. Red. Shaking. Compiling.

---

Friday. Hackathon. Gym.

“Sterling/Sterling versus Lane/Reyes. 60 minutes. Go.”

Victoria smirked. Marco cracked his knuckles. Ethan was in the bleachers. Came to “support.” Came to watch Justin fail.

Justin opened his laptop. Hands trembling.

I put my hand over his. Just for a second. “Hey.”

He looked up. Panic. Static.

“Breathe,” I said. “You have got this. We have got this.”

He nodded. Exhaled. And typed.

We did not talk. We did not need to. I fed him algorithms like candy. He executed them like art. Every time our eyes met, he would go pink and type faster.

Minute 48. Our code compiled. Clean. Beautiful.

Minute 59. Theirs crashed. Buffer overflow. Line 88.

Marco used Ethan’s code.

The buzzer went off. Mr. Davis: “Sterling/Sterling wins!”

The gym clapped. Ethan did not. His face was stone.

Justin closed his laptop. Stood. Shaky.

Victoria stormed up. “You cheated! She—”

Justin cut her off. Did not yell. Did not need to. “She debugged us. You dated Ethan. We are not the same.”

Then he did something he had never done before.

He looked at me. In front of everyone. And he smiled. Small. Blushy. Real.

“Good,” he said. Just for me.

Ethan saw it. His eyes narrowed. He saw the blush. He saw the smile. He saw me.

Game on.