Sideswiped by Kim Harrison

our minds.”
    â€œSweet. Do it,” Allen said, hunched over the desk in excitement.
    Silas looked at Summer, loving the way she looked beside him, face flushed and eyes alight. Their eyes met, and she nodded.
    On the monitor, Peri stood before the waiting room vending machine, her hands on her hips as she posed coyly, her distress real enough for Silas. “Maybe someone kicked it under the machine,” she said, annoyance in her voice. “Could you look? The dust is bad for my asthma.”
    His phone was still on the glass plate, and, leaning, he left-swiped through the open apps, hitting the one that gave him access to the simple but deadly program that he’d played with during his freshman year. His pulse raced as he brought it front and center.
    Summer’s slim hand stopped his, and she was the one who hit the confirmation key. He looked up at her, seeing the faint tremble in her lips, the need in her for this to work, the possibilities that would open for both of them if it did. This was what he wanted to do. She was who he wanted to do it with. He wasn’t too big to be an effective agent.
    It took an unreal two seconds for the program to register, two seconds for all his doubts and shortcomings to rise to the surface. And then the monitor chimed, wanting confirmation.
    â€œYes means yes,” Allen said, and Summer tapped it again.
    There was a responding glow from the phone, and the computer flashed an error message. One by one, the running programs began to shut down.
    â€œSweet!” Allen exclaimed softly, straightening to his full height. “Let’s get out of here.”
    But Summer didn’t move, and Silas stood, meticulously unhooking the glass pad and wiping the area down. “Have you texted Peri?” he asked, seeing Peri still with the guard.
    Summer glanced at the phone in her hand. “Just now.” The phone went dark. “Drone has been sent into the drink.”
    â€œGuys?” Allen prompted, and Silas watched Peri “find” her phone, jumping up and down and giving the guard a hug, making him flush and stammer. “Before the sun goes nova, maybe?”
    But Summer didn’t move. “I can’t wait until tomorrow to see if this worked,” she said, voice strained. “I have to know now.”
    Allen’s urgent ushering motions stopped. “But these things take forever to reboot,” he complained as the monitor went dark. Immediately it lit up and started to come alive.
    Please work , Silas thought, anxious as he continued to stuff things in his belt pack with no regard to organization.
    â€œIt will work,” Allen said, fidgeting. “It’s Silas’s program. They never fail. Let’s go!”
    But Summer remained before the glowing screen, breathless as the systems came up and alive. He had just trashed the academy’s grading computer. Silas felt good, and bad . . . and he was glad that Summer was with him.
    Please  . . . he thought as the system came alive. And then a message box flashed up.
    ERROR. REBOOT.
    â€œIt’s good. Can we go now?” Allen demanded.
    Summer exhaled, the soft sound going to Silas’s core and igniting him. One by one, the programs began to shut down again. It had worked.
    â€œLet’s go.” Summer breezed out to the hall, almost jogging. Jerking into motion, Silas followed, leaving Allen to finish swabbing the door free of their prints. His feet hardly seemed to touch the floor, and he moved without effort. It wasn’t the high of a successful task, it was the chance they might be able to make this work, to be together as they wanted. He wanted this, she wanted this. It was right. It was perfect.
    Thank God Peri had a reason for being here yesterday, or this wouldn’t have gotten past the front door , he thought, then, Thank God she had hit me with the drone.
    They slipped out the way they’d come in, spurred on by