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Being the CIA's top cybersecurity software analyst had its perks - and for Ellie, that was tapping into her beautiful neighbor's old security cameras that nobody knew were still live. A little people watching never hurt.
Keyboards clacked throughout the building; the soft chatter and hum of coworkers blended into the office sounds. Late-afternoon phone ringing, the annoying-ass microwave in the break room that never shut up, email notifications, and the sound of fresh code. It all combined into a frequency that Ellie’s ears learned to filter out.
Her back hurt; hell, everything of Ellie’s ached. What they didn’t tell you about working with technology all day was the strain it put on your posture—eyes too. Code had been engraved into her brain over the years, but it had also been long enough to burn into her corneas.
Not only was she sore, but she was also exhausted. She swore the screen had grown since she’d been oggling at it, staring at the computer screen. It blinked back at her, the cursor probably judging the dark circles under her eyes, the slightly frazzled hair she didn't have time to comb through that morning.
A voice jolted her from the half-asleep zombie state she’d fallen into.
“Williams!” Heels clicked against the marble with authority.
Ellie straightened too fast, wincing at the protest in her spine. Her boss stood beside her desk, arms folded—not angry. Maybe a mix of disappointment and concern. Which, arguably, was worse. Chief Cage, the five-foot-seven resting bitch-face of a woman, stood tall, enough so that Ellie had to tilt her head up to catch a glance.
Blazer had one button undone today, but she still looked put together in that effortless, government-issued way. Blonde hair, kept slicked into a tight bun and disciplined. A sharp, deliberate set to her jaw. The kind of blue eyes that had years of experience behind them. They didn’t miss, didn’t forgive much either.
She shifted her weight slightly, one hand resting on the back of Ellie’s chair instead of crossing her arms. A small tell. Less confrontation than usual.
“I was under the impression this was priority.”
“It is,” Ellie replied automatically.
“Because when I’m asked for progress, and I give them ‘she’s close,’ I prefer that to be true.” The screen reflected faintly against the lenses of her glasses. Cat Eye, sleek. She glanced at the unchanged build.
“We’re still sitting on yesterday’s version.”
Ellie nodded once, already tapping at keys to make it look less damning. “Just refining.”
“Refining,” she repeated evenly.
“Mm-hm,” she replied, nodding as she stared ahead at the computer. Her eyes drifted to her phone—it sat neatly on the table, taunting her with the promise of you. The camera software she downloaded, one she didn't dare look at around her coworkers.
Cage’s gaze flicked to her for a second longer than necessary—taking in the shadows under her eyes, the slight delay in her responses.
“You’re one of my best analysts,” she said quietly. “But lately? I’m defending potential instead of results. And while I don’t need your brilliance, Williams, I at least need your consistency. Preferably before higher-ups begin asking me why I’m extending deadlines.”
“Right.” The auburnette nodded, “Yeah. Won’t happen again.”
“If something’s dividing your attention,” she continued, voice lower now, “handle it. I don’t want to have to start reallocating assignments because you’re… stretched thin.”
Ellie nodded again. “Won’t happen.”
Her jaw tightened firmly.
“I know what you’re capable of, Williams. That’s why I haven’t moved this yet.” A beat. “Don’t make me regret that.”
Chief stood up straight, posture pulling fully into command mode again.
“And get me something I can show upstairs before end of day.”
Then she was gone.
Ellie turned off the ignition, the engine ticking and wheezing as it cooled, metal settling like it was exhaling after a long day. The quiet that followed rang in her ears. She sagged back into the seat for a beat to feel her spine decompress. Her hand reached up automatically, flipping down the overhead mirror. She slid the cover aside. The plastic snapped open with a sharp click.
Jesus.
Her hair was a mess—loose strands stuck to her temple with dried sweat. Her under-eyes were bruised-looking, faint purple shadows sinking into her pale skin, and her eyes seemed… dimmer. She leaned closer to the glass, squinting. Was that scientifically possible? Could eyes lose their glow?
A car door slammed somewhere ahead, the sound cracking through the still air and vibrating faintly through her windows. Ellie blinked, distracted, gaze drifting past her own reflection—
—and landing on you.
The world seemed to refocus. Her world, more specifically.
You were a little windblown, grocery bag hooked in the crook of your arm, the thin paper crinkling dangerously under the weight. Your purse was slung loosely around your arm, phone clutched tightly in your hand like it was absorbing whatever stress you carried.
“No, Abby, that’s not what I said—”
Your voice carried across the lot, sharp and low at the same time, like you were trying not to make a scene but couldn’t quite keep the heat from seeping out. You paced a half step, then stopped yourself, jaw tightening. The crease between your brows hadn’t been there this morning.
Familiarity settled in Ellie’s chest anyway. The cadence of your voice. The way you tucked your chin when you were frustrated. The stubborn set of your stance when you felt cornered.
The seatbelt snapped back with a thwip as she unbuckled it, fumbling slightly in her rush. She pushed the door open, stepping out into the sunlight. Heat kissed her skin instantly, warming her cheeks, her arms. The breeze caught her hair at the nape of her neck, tugging loose strands free and brushing them across her lips.
She laughed under her breath and tried to tame it with her fingers. It was pointless. Her hands were still shaky from the long day.
God, she felt stupidly giddy.
Like a teenager. Not just dead-eyed in a mirror thirty seconds ago. You did that to her; you were her revival, her espresso.
You adjusted the grocery bag against your hip and started up the apartment steps. The building cast long shadows now, the light slanting sideways, catching in your hair.
“Look, all I’m asking is that you come over tonight—“ Your voice echoed against the metal of the stairs, tense and exasperated, “—I don’t care how late. I just want to see you.”
Ellie was halfway across the lot when she realized you weren’t slowing down.
“Hey—” she called lightly, jogging the last stretch, soles scuffing against pavement. She took the stairs two at a time to catch up, breath puffing out in a soft laugh. “You planning on outrunning me or what?”
She kept her tone easy. Friendly. The smile she mastered that showed teeth but not nerves. You didn’t smile back, just glanced at her over your shoulder, and ended the phone call.
You turned back to the steps, returning to the climb. Guarded. “Hi, Ellie.”
That did something small and unpleasant to her stomach.
She slowed behind you, then moved up alongside as you reached the first landing. The air up there felt different—less breeze with more heat trapped against the stucco walls.
“I was gonna text you,” she chirped, hands slipping into her pockets like she was just casually there, totally not rehearsing lines in her head. “Thought maybe we could maybe grab dinner. Or coffee—” she tilted her head, gently playful, “You need help?”
It typically worked on you, loosened your shoulders, and gave Ellie some points, but you adjusted it tighter against your side, fumbling with your keys as you climbed the second set of stairs. The sound of the silver reverberated against the walls, mixing with your breath and the crinkling of the bag.
“I’ve got it, thanks though.” Your tone was flat. Preoccupied and bothered.
Ellie’s grin faltered for half a second before she recovered. “Right. Yeah. Of course you do.” She let out a soft huff of a laugh, stepping up beside you at the top. “Still. We could hang out. If you wanted—or I could just bring something here.”
You stopped at your door.
The key didn’t go in right away. You stared at the lock instead, the set swinging in your hands idly.
Ellie’s heart started doing that quick, hopeful thing again, anticipation buzzing under her skin. She read the room, but couldn’t help but offer dinner or some sort of opportunity that granted her wiggle room. She leaned one shoulder against the railing, trying to look relaxed.
She told herself she wasn’t pushing. She wasn’t like that. She didn’t corner people. Didn’t maneuver them into things they didn’t want like Abby did.
She just… knew when to lean in. And when to step back, especially with you.
“You don’t have to decide right now,” she added lightly, tossing her hand out haphazardly in a shrug motion, like it hadn’t mattered in the first place. As though she hadn’t jogged across the sidewalk with her pulse in her throat. “I just figured… You sounded like you could use a break.”
You exhaled through your nose. Not exactly annoyed.
“Tough day?” she tried again, softer now. Seeing her opening. She adjusted her stance, angling her body slightly away instead of toward you—giving space without making a show of it. You were like wired headphones, knotted up after hours of tumbling. But patience, enough detangling with nimble fingers eventually loosened the knot that held it all together. Only then could Ellie listen to her favorite music.
The key finally slid into the lock.
You didn’t look at her when you spoke. “It’s just… a lot.”
Knot loosened.
Ellie nodded once. Understanding. She understood you so much she could almost see the calculus happening behind your eyes—Abby, the phone call, the groceries digging into your arm, the fact that Ellie was standing with that hopeful half-smile she always wore, and it didn’t cost her anything.
She didn’t let the smile slip. Not yet.
“Another time,” you said, and it came out soft. Almost careful. “Maybe we can do dinner another time. As friends.”
As friends.
There it was. A line drawn so lightly, most people would pretend not to see it.
Ellie saw it. Her jaw tightened for the smallest fraction of a second—gone before it could register. But to you, she was most people. So she, too, pretended not to see it. She gave a small shrug instead.
“Yeah,” like that had been the plan all along. “Another time. You’ve got my number.”
The corners of your mouth lifted, relieved.
“I do.”
She pushed off the railing, already retreating to the side for her own door. “Text me if you need help carrying round two.”
You huffed a quiet, genuine laugh at that.
“I will.”
Your door opened. You slipped inside. The door clicked shut.
Ellie’s smile finally dropped.
Her own door shut behind her within the minute, and she felt the mask slip entirely.
Her keys found themselves tossed onto the counter with a jingle, her feet drifting on their own towards her office—her room, she moved her computer in there after dedicating so much time to you—and her body slumping into her chair like routine. Because that’s what it was, routine.
Not only had code become so engraved into her day, her brain, her eyes. But turning on her monitor directly after work, gliding the cursor over to the file in the corner of the screen, and seeing the blue hues—the code, your code—light up with life, had carved its way into her life. Into her heart.
Your apartment, dirty dishes in the kitchen sink, decorative pillows strewn on the floor in your room that you never put back onto the bed, the half-dead plant in your living room that slightly resembled your state of mind. It was yours.
And after hours, days, endless nights of watching you, making sure you were safe, bringing you the things you were too afraid to ask for when you needed them, building the very furniture you reside on after a long day...
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
