Page 1 of Meet Cute the Virgin

Chapter One

TRISTAN

Being in high-pressure situations is what I was built for. It’s a natural skill set I’ve always possessed. I’m sure confidence plays a massive role in that. I was very adept with computers from a young age. It’s not shocking. My father has always had a high-profile technology career that goes all the way back to the PalmPilot.

That really launched him. He became one of the most sought-after employees, bouncing between a few giant global companies.

I’d been an afterthought. He loved my mother, and she told me it was a whirlwind romance, and it wasn’t long before she was pregnant with me. He adored her. I still believe he sees her as a prize, even with how much he loved her. She was a supermodel when they met. My father was always the reserved, geeky type.

I was merely something my mother wanted. If it was possible for him to give her anything her heart desired, he did. Being a mom was on her list. As far ahead as my father could predict, he never considered the amount of attention Mom would focus on me, which meant it wasn’t on him.

This caused resentment. Not directed at my mother but at me. He put on that he loved me, but it was all a show. I wouldn’t be surprised if he were incapable of emotions beyond Mom. As I’ve gotten older, I realize that I also have many of his traits.

When I got recruited early to MIT, I didn’t hesitate in taking them up on it. I do love my mother; she means well, but I wasn’t sticking around to deal with my father any longer. I was only a few years into MIT, still a teen, when the FBI came knocking on my dorm room door wanting to recruit me.

That knock hadn’t come long after I submitted a patent for Dally 2.0. It was the world’s most advanced autonomous inventory robot. It featured a new optical system and superior sensing capabilities. It was able to effectively analyze area environments, scan and track products or items, and rapidly process data.

I have never officially worked for the government as an employee. They tried many times to hire me. I would rather not be beholden to anyone. They weren’t thrilled with my decision, but not wanting to lose me, they hired me as a subcontractor for different jobs or tasks.

A lot of my work was based around the military, but I worked closest to the director of the FBI. He took a liking to me, and it wasn’t until his death that I realized how I’d put him into a father role. He was the one who guided me through my teens and into adulthood. I respected him and looked up to him.

Victor was a good man. When he passed away, it deeply affected me, but nothing affected me more than his daughter did. I only met her a few times before his passing. Victor tried to keep his private life separate, but that line with us had started to blur.

I was shocked when, at his funeral, I was approached by his lawyer and asked to attend the reading of the will. I thought maybe there were project files he wanted me to have or asentimental item. Never in a million years would I have been prepared for his last wishes.

Let’s just say I wasn’t wrong. To Victor, it was sentimental, the most loved and cherished possession he had: his daughter. The same daughter that is now staring daggers at me over breakfast. This is how all of our meals together have been for the last few weeks. Things around here have escalated, and for once in my life, I have no idea how to handle a situation. I’m way out of my depth. Lily isn’t a robot or a system I can try and reprogram.

She’s defiant and has a mouth worse than her father’s.

When Lily’s pissed, her voice rises, sharply, and it can easily slice right through you. Her cheeks flush, and her hands never stop moving. It’s a beautiful tidal wave of emotions. She’s filled with them in ways I have never experienced firsthand.

I watch her with a forensic intensity, tracking and memorizing the way her lips press together like she is trying to control herself, but the words end up exploding out. But when she ignores me, it’s worse. I feel it everywhere.

Lily doesn’t hold anything back and puts her emotions right out there. No matter how many times I tell her she needs to work on getting them under control. That always provokes her. Do I do it because I want her to get a hold on them or because I enjoy getting a reaction from her?

Can it be both? The reality is, I don’t have a fucking clue what I should be doing. Not since she finished school and has now come home permanently.

The quiet in the kitchen is loud. I should leave. Go into the office for the day. The longer I’m home, the more pissed off I’m getting. I’m not used to not knowing how to handle a situation, and I’ve been at a loss since the will reading. Lily didn’t appear any happier about it than I was. I’m sure for two entirely different reasons.

“Any plans today?” Lily’s striking eyes flick up to meet mine. Those purple pools are the very reason her father named her Lily. Her long, wavy blond hair and fair complexion only make them stand out more. They are a rarity, like her.

Lily has always reminded me of a delicate glass doll. That is until her mouth opens. No one talks to me the way she does, nor do they ignore me as she does. That’s what she has now switched to, and it’s driving me insane. Which is fucking ridiculous because I try to keep distance between the two of us.

Except now that she is ignoring me, I find myself lingering.

“How long are we going to play this little game?”

Lily drops her fork, making it clatter onto her plate. “I’m not playing any game.” She gives me a sugary sweet fake smile. I bet if she could stab me with that fork, she would.

“Then answer my question.”

“No.” She swipes her tongue along her bottom lip.

“Don’t be a brat.” I grab my plate, standing to take it over to the kitchen sink.

“What does it matter if I’m a brat or not? What am I doing? Yada, yada, yada.” She rolls her eyes. “Aren’t you stalking me anyways? Now that I’m your captive.”

I close my eyes, trying to hold on to my patience. It’s something I find I don’t have a lot of when it comes to her.