Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67039 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67039 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
“This plan was over before it began.” Cosima throws her hands up in frustration. “Has she texted you back?”
“No, but does it matter? She can’t get in here.” I’m on the fence about how to feel about it.
It sucks because I really wanted to meet Marks. Everything we have ever done is online. Of course, we’ve done video calls and such, but this is different. I have to admit that the guilt over not telling Warren the entire truth is slowly eating away at me. What worsens it—now that I’m really thinking about it—is that this is what Warren was worried about to begin with when it came to Marks. He thinks she's sneaky. Not that he used that exact word when talking about her, but he didn’t have to. Now here we are, sneaking around with Marks.
“Now what?” Cosima plops down on the couch next to me.
“You can try on some of the clothes they set out for us.” I motion toward the racks. They had brought in separate ones for each of us. Warren had thought ahead. I’m used to roaming around racks of clothes. There aren’t even tags on any of these items.
“Hey!”
Cosima and I both let out a scream, jumping up. We snap our heads back, the sound having come from the ceiling. Marks is smirking down at us.
“What?” Brian rushes through the curtains hanging over the normally open doorway. He has his gun drawn. He raises it to where we were clearly staring. I glance back up and see the ceiling tile is back in place. “What was it?” Brian walks in farther, keeping his gun pointed at the ceiling.
“Spider,” I blurt out. “I thought I saw one.”
“Sorry.” Cosima gives him an apologetic smile.
Brian holsters his gun. “Do you need anything?”
“Nope, all good. I’m about to get all naked and try these clothes on.” Cosima wiggles her brows.
“That’s my cue.” Brian turns around, leaving us alone.
“Quick thinking, Tova. Glad to see you’re finally on board for this mission.”
“Mission?”
“Yeah, we named it Petty Badgers,” Marks says, the tile opening again. “Can I get a hand here? I’m in the ceiling, and now after the spider comment, I’m convinced there is something crawling on me.”
“How the heck are we gonna get you down from there?” Cosima asks.
I had no clue how Marks was going to slip by whatever security Warren sent, but I should’ve known better. Of course she’s in the ceiling. It’s actually pretty clever, and I’m sure it took a bit of planning.
“Help me. Let’s move the couch over a bit so it’s directly underneath. Marks, you want us to stand on it and help you down or you want to try to lower yourself?” Cosima moves into action.
Good thing because I’m in some sort of daze or something. I’m not sure if it’s nerves, excitement, or the thought of getting caught that has me feeling this way.
We both lift our hands for her to brace on; she jumps down, and we all almost fall over. “Whoa, we almost pulled a Tova,” Marks teases me.
“Roll out of two windows, and you’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Nope, that’s what friends are for,” Marks says, pulling me in for a tight hug.
“You’re taller than I realized.” This all feels so surreal. I can’t believe I’m finally meeting her in person.
“I know, I got these supermodel legs.” She turns to Cosima next. “It’s nice to meet you.” Marks holds her hand out.
“Hey, I get a hug too.” Cosima grabs her hand, yanking her into a hug.
“All right, all right, but it took me years to warm up to a hug with Tova.”
“And it only took days with me.” Cosima gives her the sweetest smile she can muster. “We’re moving quick, Marks.” Marks laughs.
“Give me your phone.” She holds her hand out again. Cosima gives it to her.
“Try on clothes, or you’re making me a liar,” I order Cosima.
“Twist my arm, why don’t you?” She beelines straight for one of the racks. Cosima has chilled out now that Marks is here to fix her phone, and by fixing I mean extracting Z from having access to it.
Marks drops down onto the couch, pulling things out of her backpack. She’s dressed in all black from head to toe, making her blondish-pink hair stand out. Marks’ hair is an almost white-blond that she is always adding colors to. She never does anything drastic, just a light tint to give it some color. It really works for her.
“I like the hair.”
“I did pink just for you.” I sit down next to her.
"How sweet." I bump my shoulder with hers. “This is nice, being together in person.”
“It is,” Marks agrees but almost appears sad about it.
“You okay?” She shrugs. “Come on.” I bump her again.
“It’s really nice seeing you in person. Too nice.” Ah, there it is. Marks never stays in one place for too long. In her line of work, it’s dangerous. It has to get old, not having roots anywhere.