Chapter 4: The Interrogation
The door clicked shut with a soft, final sound, and Maisie stood frozen in the middle of her room, listening to Adam's footsteps fade down the hallway. She pressed her palm flat against her chest, feeling the wild staccato of her heart through her thin t-shirt. The scent of him—sandalwood and something clean, like rain on warm pavement—still clung to her skin, to the sheets, to the very air she was breathing.
She let out a long, shaky breath. Then she looked around the room and panic hit her like a speeder bike going full throttle into a tree.
The bed was a disaster zone. Sheets twisted into ropes, pillows scattered across the floor, the duvet bunched up in a sad heap at the foot of the mattress. Her bra—the good black lace one, the one she'd worn hoping, hoping—dangled from the corner of her desk chair like some kind of scandalous flag. And there, peeking out from beneath the edge of her nightstand, was a scrap of dark fabric that she recognized with a jolt of heat straight to her cheeks.
Her panties. Ripped. Actually, properly, gloriously ripped.
"Okay. Okay, okay, okay." She muttered the words like a mantra, darting forward to snatch the ruined lace from the floor. She balled it up in her fist, then grabbed her bra from the chair, then spun in a frantic circle trying to figure out where to hide them. The trash? No, too obvious. The laundry hamper? He'd already left, there was no one to fool. She was just being paranoid.
But old habits died hard. Every other guy who'd ever seen her room had made some excuse to leave before sunrise. She'd learned to erase all evidence of herself before they could even blink awake. She'd learned to make her small, chaotic shrine to the Star Wars Expanded Universe disappear under a careful layer of normalcy—stuffed animals shoved into closets, action figures buried under blankets, the signed copy of Heir to the Empire hidden in a drawer like pornography.
But Adam hadn't run. Adam had brought her coffee and quoted obscure lore about the Chiss Ascendancy with the same reverence she reserved for her most precious possessions.
Maisie stopped mid-scramble, clutching the torn panties to her chest, and let herself feel that for just a moment. The wonder of it. The terrifying, thrilling possibility that maybe—maybe—she'd found someone who didn't think she was too much.
The door slammed open.
"WELL, WELL, WELL." Kate's voice rang out like a game show host who'd just found the grand prize winner. She stood in the doorway, still wearing last night's party dress—a slinky burgundy number that looked somehow both rumpled and devastating—with her heels dangling from two fingers. Her dark curls were a wild halo around her face, her eyeliner smudged in a way that made her look like she'd been through a war and won.
Maisie let out a shriek that was entirely undignified and tried to shove the panties behind her back. It was pointless. Kate's eyes had already zeroed in on them like a pair of targeting computers, and her grin spread slow and dangerous across her face.
"No, don't stop on my account." Kate kicked the door shut behind her and tossed her heels into the corner with practiced aim. "Please, continue with your little evidence-hiding routine. I'm enjoying it immensely."
"This isn't— I wasn't—" Maisie sputtered, her face burning so hot she was surprised her freckles didn't ignite.
Kate crossed the room in three strides and flopped onto the bed like she owned it, which, technically, a shared portion of it, she did. She propped herself up on her elbows and patted the space beside her. "Sit. Talk. Spill every single detail. I want to know what kind of man makes my roommate look like she was mauled by a very enthusiastic wampa."
Maisie groaned and buried her face in her hands. The confession was going to happen whether she liked it or not. Kate had the interrogation skills of a New Republic intelligence officer and the persistence of a Sith Lord who'd sensed weakness.
She dropped onto the bed beside her friend, still clutching the ruined underwear like a talisman. "It's... a lot."
"Good." Kate's grin widened. "I love a lot."
Maisie took a deep breath and started talking.
She told her about the party, about that sleazy guy in the blue button-down who'd spotted her Rebel Alliance shirt and decided it was an open invitation to mansplain why the original trilogy was "overrated" and how she should really give the new movies a chance. She'd been mid-eye-roll, preparing her tenth rebuttal, when a voice from behind her had cut through the noise.
"He's wrong, you know." Adam had stepped out of the crowd like he'd been waiting for an excuse. Tall, dark-haired, with a jawline that could cut durasteel and eyes the color of a Tatooine sunset. He'd looked at the guy with mild, almost bored contempt. "The Thrawn trilogy alone has more narrative depth and character development than the entire sequel era. And her shirt is objectively correct."
The guy had spluttered something inadequate, and Adam had ignored him completely, turning to Maisie with a small, crooked smile. "Sorry. I couldn't stand by and let someone insult Heir to the Empire."
"Heir to the Empire," she'd repeated, her voice coming out weird and breathy. "You've read it?"
"I've read it five times." His smile had softened. "The whole trilogy, actually. And the duology. And most of the New Jedi Order series."
Most of the New Jedi Order. The Yuuzhan Vong War. The darkest, most ridiculed, most beautiful era of the Expanded Universe. The era she'd been mocked for loving. And this gorgeous stranger had just casually admitted to reading most of it, like it was no big deal, like he hadn't just said the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to her in her entire life.
"So we went to the diner," Maisie continued, her voice picking up speed. "The one on 5th with the terrible pancakes and the good coffee. And we just... talked. For hours. We argued about whether Jacen Solo's fall to the dark side made narrative sense, and whether the Vong were better as a biological threat or a mystical one, and he actually listened. He didn't just let me talk, he engaged with everything I said. He pushed back when he disagreed. He was—" She paused, searching for the word. "He was a worthy opponent."
Kate's eyebrows rose. "A worthy opponent. That's the sexiest thing you could have said about him, by the way."
"That's not even the sexy part," Maisie mumbled, her cheeks flushing scarlet.
"Then get to the sexy part."
Maisie's mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. She buried her face in the pillow for a moment, screamed silently into the fabric, and resurfaced with her hair a mess and her face even redder.
"We came back here," she said finally, her voice small. "And he kissed me. And I thought... okay, this is the part where he sees my room and makes an excuse to leave." She gestured around at the chaos—the posters, the shelves of action figures, the gaming PC with its RGB lighting casting soft rainbow glows across the ceiling. "But he didn't. He looked at it all, and he got this weird little smile, and he said, 'You have the Jedi Academy figurine collection? I've been looking for that one for years.'"
Kate made a soft sound, something between a laugh and a coo. "I love him already."
"And then..." Maisie's voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "And then the shirt came off. And Kate, he's— he's so—"
"Uses his words, Maisie."
"He's hot. Like, obscenely hot. Like, I didn't know bodies could be that— he has this scar, right here—" She touched a spot just below her collarbone. "And his hands are huge. Like, big enough to—" She cut herself off, her blush deepening to a shade of crimson that should have been scientifically impossible.
"To what?" Kate leaned forward, eyes gleaming with delighted anticipation.
Maisie hid her face again. "To pin both of my wrists above my head with one hand," she mumbled into the pillow.
Kate let out a whoop of laughter that bounced off the walls. "Maisie O'Connor! You dirty little—"
"I didn't plan it!" Maisie's voice was muffled. "It just happened! One second we were kissing, and the next second I was flat on my back and he was holding my hands down and whispering in my ear about how much he loved the scene in Vision of the Future where—"
"Wait, wait, wait." Kate held up a hand. "He quoted Legends lore while you were having sex?"
"Not quoted, exactly. More like... referenced. With context." Maisie's eyes went dreamy. "He said something about how the Vong's organic technology had nothing on the curve of my waist, and then he said my freckles looked like a starfield and he wanted to map every single one."
"That is the nerdiest pillow talk I have ever heard, and I am obsessed with it."
Maisie let out a shaky laugh, pulling a pillow into her lap and hugging it tight. "And then this morning, he was gone when I woke up. There was a note on the pillow. I thought— I really thought he'd done the classic disappearing act. I was already mentally preparing myself for the whole cycle again." She paused, swallowing hard. "But then he came back. Thirty minutes later, with two coffees and a box of those danishes from the café, the raspberry ones I'd mentioned we should try but never had. And he asked me about my favorite Legends novel. And he stayed, just talking and laughing and being himself."
Kate was quiet for a moment. Then she reached over and took Maisie's hand, squeezing it gently. "Okay. I'm going to say something, and I need you to listen without panicking."
Maisie's stomach did a nervous flip. "That's not a reassuring opening."
"He didn't run. He brought you coffee. He quoted obscure Star Wars lore in the middle of a conversation about the Vong War, and then he stayed. That's not casual, Maisie."
"I know." Maisie's voice cracked on the words. "That's what scares me. I think I'm falling for him, Kate. Like, actually, genuinely falling. And I'm terrified that when the newness wears off, he's going to look at me and see what everyone else sees—the girl who's too into this stuff, who cares too much about fictional wars and made-up aliens, who can't just be normal about anything." She pulled her knees up to her chest, curling into herself.
Kate's expression softened. She scooted closer, wrapping an arm around Maisie's shoulders. "Let me tell you something, and I need you to hear it. That guy? He already saw everything. He saw the room, the collection, the obsessive knowledge of the Yuuzhan Vong War. He saw your Rebel Alliance shirt and your messy bed and your stack of strategy guides. And he didn't run. He stayed. Not just for the sex, but for the morning after. For the conversation." She squeezed tighter. "He sees you, Maisie. All of you. And the only thing you need to do is be that person—the one who debated him all night and came undone under his touch. Because apparently, that person is absolutely irresistible."
Maisie sniffled, a small, watery laugh escaping her. "You're going to make me cry."
"Good. Cry. Then finish cleaning up this disaster zone so we can figure out when you're going to see him again." Kate grinned. "And by we, I mean me. I'm going to be your wingwoman for whatever comes next, and I need all the details so I can properly hype you up."
Maisie laughed again, something loosening in her chest. She finally let the torn panties drop into the laundry hamper, then started gathering the sheets. Adam's scent clung to them, and she found herself pressing them to her face for a moment, inhaling deep.
"Okay," she said, more to herself than to Kate. "Okay."
Kate watched her with knowing eyes, still sprawled across the bed just as Adam had been a few hours ago. "So. He's got a scar under his collarbone. What else? Tell me about the arms. Were there muscles? I bet there were muscles."
"Kate!"
"What? I'm gathering intelligence! This is important tactical information!"
Maisie threw a pillow at her. It hit her square in the face, and Kate's answering laugh was loud and warm and exactly what she needed. She kept cleaning as Kate kept asking questions, her cheeks burning at each one, the memory of Adam's hands and mouth and whispered words replaying in her mind like a holo-recording she couldn't stop watching.
She kept cleaning as Kate kept asking questions, her cheeks burning at each one, the memory of Adam's hands and mouth and whispered words replaying in her mind like a holo-recording she couldn't stop watching. The sheets were stripped, bundled into a wad she pressed against her chest, and she caught herself inhaling deeply one last time before shoving them into the hamper.
"So let me get this straight," Kate said, propping herself up on her elbows with theatrical precision. "He's built like a god, he can quote the Thrawn trilogy, and he speaks fluent dirty talk with a nerdy filter. That's not a man, that's fan fiction."
"It's ridiculous, I know." Maisie laughed, shaking her head. "I keep waiting for something to go wrong. For him to reveal a flaw so devastating that I can finally relax and stop bracing myself for impact."
Kate sat up abruptly. "Oh, I'm sure he has flaws. Probably snores like a dying bantha or leaves the toilet seat up or has a deeply problematic opinion about whether the Yuuzhan Vong War was actually well-written."
"He said the Vong were 'compelling antagonists' actually."
"Absolutely unforgivable. You should end things immediately." Kate's voice was pure deadpan. "But before you do, you need to tell me when you're seeing him again. You didn't answer that question."
Maisie paused mid-task, a pair of her jeans dangling from her fingers. She hadn't told Kate about the Thai place yet. The thought of saying it out loud made it feel more real—more fragile, somehow, like speaking the words might jinx them.
"He uhm..." She cleared her throat. "He asked me to dinner. Before he left."
Kate's entire body snapped to attention. "What?"
"Tonight. At that new Thai place on Fifth Street, the one with the good pad thai."
"Dinner. Tonight. The pad thai place." Kate's grin spread slow and dangerous across her face. "The one you've been talking about trying since they opened two months ago."
"I know."
"You mentioned the pad thai place at the diner with him. Before you ever hooked up. And he remembered." Kate said each word like a verdict being handed down in court. "He remembered the pad thai place that you've been meaning to try, and he made a plan based entirely on information you gave him before you even kissed."
Maisie felt her face heat to a temperature that could power a small star. "That's what I said. He remembers everything. It's honestly a little terrifying."
"It's not terrifying, it's perfect." Kate pushed herself off the bed and grabbed Maisie by the shoulders, steering her across the room toward the cramped closet. "You're not wearing jeans to this dinner. We're going to find you something that makes him remember every single reason he read the Thrawn trilogy five times."
"Kate, it doesn't matter what I wear—"
"The hell it doesn't." Kate threw open the closet doors like she was unveiling a holy relic. One hand reached in and pushed hangers aside with practiced efficiency, rifling through Maisie's small collection of outfits with a critical eye. "You're going out to dinner with a man who quoted obscure Legends lore while he was inside you. This is not a casual occasion. This is a full-scale event."
Maisie crossed her arms over her chest, watching Kate's assessment with a mixture of amusement and dread. "He's already seen me naked. I'm pretty sure my fabric choices aren't going to make or break this."
"Yes, but he'll be seeing you in a different context now. Out in public. In the light. Surrounded by other people who will look at you and wonder how you ended up with someone like him." Kate pulled a dusty rose sundress from the back of the closet and held it up against Maisie's body, tilting her head. "And you're going to walk in looking like you belong beside him. Like this isn't some lucky surprise for you, but an inevitability."
Maisie stared at the dress. It was cute—she'd bought it on a whim a year ago and worn it once to a family dinner, feeling like she was playing dress-up. The color was right, the cut was flattering, but it didn't feel like her. It felt like a costume.
"Something else," she said. "That one makes me feel like I'm borrowing someone else's skin."
Kate hummed in agreement and shucked the dress aside, hands moving with renewed purpose. She pulled out a black blouse with a subtle floral pattern woven through the fabric, paired it with a dark pair of charcoal jeans. "This? Sexy but casual. Smart but approachable."
"Those jeans are the same ones I wore to the party last night."
"Perfect. They're lucky jeans now." Kate tossed them at her. "Put them on. I want to see the whole picture."
Maisie laughed but complied, stepping into the jeans and tugging the blouse over her head. The fabric was soft, draping in a way that hinted at her curves without flaunting them. She caught her reflection in the window glass and paused. It wasn't a costume. It looked like her—like a slightly better, more polished version of herself, but still recognizable.
"Okay. I approve." Kate circled her like a predator assessing its prey. "Now the hair. Are we leaving it down or putting it up?"
"Down. He said he liked my hair." The memory flashed: Adam's fist tangled in the copper strands, pulling her head back as his mouth found her throat. She felt a shiver curl through her stomach. "He definitely liked my hair."
Kate caught the look on her face and let out a low whistle. "Girl. Earth to Maisie. Share with the class what's happening inside that head right now."
"Nothing," Maisie said, too quickly. "Just... thinking about tonight."
"Uh-huh. Sure. That's why you just got a dreamy expression like you were reliving a particularly good memory." Kate grinned. "I'm not letting you off the hook that easily. I need every detail about this morning, and I mean everything."
Maisie's face flushed again, but there was a lightness to it now, a sense that maybe she didn't have to hide all of herself away. Kate had always made space for her exactly as she was—nerdy obsessions and all.
"The bed, Kate. He wrecked me in that bed, and then he made me feel safe about it."
Kate's expression softened. Her teasing tone dropped away for just a moment, replaced by something genuine and warm. "I'm so happy for you. You deserve someone who doesn't make you feel like you have to shrink yourself to be loved."
Maisie swallowed around the sudden tightness in her throat. "Maybe. I'm still not entirely convinced this is real. There's a tiny voice in my head convinced that at some point he's going to realize I'm not actually who he thinks I am."
"And who does he think you are?"
"I don't know. Someone interesting. Someone worth staying for." Maisie's words came out barely above a whisper.
"Then show up tonight as exactly that person." Kate moved closer, reaching up to brush a strand of copper hair from Maisie's face. "You argued with him about the Old Republic until two in the morning. You quoted obscure lore he hadn't even heard of. You challenged him. That's who he's into. The weird, brilliant, impossible-to-forget girl standing in front of me right now."
Maisie felt something loosen in her chest. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." Kate's grin returned, sharp and confident. "Now let's finish this look. I'm thinking we need a jacket. Something with a little attitude."
Kate dove back into the closet, emerging victorious with a dark denim jacket she'd borrowed last month and never returned. It was worn at the elbows in exactly the right way, soft and lived-in, with a faded Rebel Alliance patch on the shoulder that Maisie had sewn on herself years ago.
"Oh, that's perfect." Maisie took the jacket, slipping it on. The familiar weight settled over her shoulders like armor. "This feels like me."
"It is you. That's the whole point." Kate stepped back, surveying the full ensemble with a satisfied nod. "Height doesn't matter. Face doesn't matter. What matters is the energy. You're not going to dinner tonight as Maisie the girl who's afraid of being left behind. You're going as Maisie the girl who debates Jedi philosophy while getting railed. Own that."
"Kate!"
"I'm serious!" Kate was laughing now. "You are objectively one of the most interesting people I know. You just spend so much time worrying about being too much that you forget how much that authenticity matters." She flopped back onto the bed, arms spread wide. "He read the Thrawn trilogy. More than once. And he still chose to stay for breakfast. Trust that."
Maisie stared at her reflection in the window again. The girl looking back was petite, freckled, a little ordinary at first glance. But there was a light in her eyes now that hadn't been there this morning. A spark of something that felt dangerously close to confidence.
"Okay," she said, turning away from the glass. "I'll go. And I'll try not to overthink every single thing I say."
"No, definitely overthink it, but overthink it in a way that makes you say the smart, passionate stuff instead of the self-deprecating stuff." Kate pulled out her phone, checking the time. "You've got about six hours to kill before dinner. You could do a quick run-through of some light Legends lore in case he wants to test you."
"I don't need to study. I was born prepared for this."
"That's my girl." Kate tossed her the phone. "Now send him a text. Confirm that tonight is still happening. It'll take thirty seconds and it'll save you two hours of nervous pacing."
Maisie caught the phone, staring down at the screen. She hadn't texted him since the Nerfherder message—the one that still glowed like a beacon in her notifications. He'd said he was looking forward to tonight. He'd called her Nerfherder, and she'd felt her heart grow three sizes.
She typed a quick message before she could second-guess it.
Hey. Still on for tonight? Asking because I'm already planning my triumphant arrival and need to make sure you'll be there to witness it.
She hit send and held her breath. Kate watched her with a knowing smile. The phone buzzed almost immediately, and the screen lit up with his reply.
Wouldn't miss it. I may or may not have already Googled the menu to see what pairs best with General Tso's chicken.
She let out a laugh that was half relief, half genuine delight. He was a nerd. He was her kind of nerd. And for the first time in longer than she cared to admit, she was actually looking forward to being seen.