Good Game_A Gamer Romance Read online

She shook her head. Never mind. Ready for your party tonight?

  I’m always ready for a party

  Glad to hear it

  Pick you up at seven

  So the phone wasn’t broken. Splendid.

  Maybe it was time for that latte now.

  She bundled up, headed out of the laser lab, and began the stroll across campus toward the coffee shop. A random guy in a hoodie caught her eye, and her pulse spiked.

  No. Not Jack. Just some undergrad slinking toward the dorms.

  That was probably good. She hadn’t run into him “randomly” again, and running into him randomly here would be too weird. Especially when he could just text her and ask. At Eden, she’d almost hoped he’d planned it, as sort of stalkery as that would have been. But as the days dragged on and he didn’t reach out, she came to believe it must have truly been random.

  If he wanted to see her, he had every excuse.

  Given everything that had happened with Damon, she probably should be freaked out. But it was at the end of their relationship that everything had gone to hell, not the beginning. Beginnings were naturally slightly stalkery. But for once, with Damon, she’d had the courage to break things off. That was when the shit had hit the fan. He’d followed her around on social media, poking and commenting left and right, until she’d finally had to block him.

  Oh, and how all that had made Max and his sociology-professor shtick look brilliant and philosophical. Social media was destroying the world, he’d said. Every societal ill could be attributed to one online platform or another, according to Max, and for a while his rants had been a welcome panacea.

  But the madness with Damon hadn’t ended there. He’d shown up at the next table on a date, started texting hundreds of times a day, sent her gift after gift—flowers, mostly, and a few teddy bears. Straight to the senior center, they’d gone. Penny had helped her drag them over there.

  When all that hadn’t worked, he’d started emailing pictures. She shuddered at the memory. Pictures he’d taken when she was asleep.

  Pictures that he didn’t have to keep to himself.

  In the end, a kind and somewhat intimidating campus security officer had given him a talking-to, and Max had loomed threateningly a time or two, and Damon had finally backed off. Mostly. But she still didn’t really know if he had those pictures or not, somewhere out there. And she still kept her pistol in the glove compartment.

  Given all that, Jack “randomly” showing up places or offering her weird contracts should maybe be more of a red flag. But he was still very mild on her creeper scale.

  She looked at her phone again, then sighed. She wasn’t usually the passive one. Maybe she should just text him. Or actually go out with Chris.

  She was in the middle of ordering a lavender latte when her phone buzzed in her pocket. She scooted away at record speed after paying and whipped it out, a shot of adrenaline running through her.

  It was, of all people, Max. Hey. How’s it going?

  She shoved the phone back into her pocket in disgust. She should probably reply. Be the bigger person. He’d been a shithead, but at the very least she should tell him to eat shit and die. But what if he had thought things over? What if they could—

  No. Fuck him. I have a new asshole to kiss me now. Maybe. He might not love me, but did Max? And at least the new guy paid well. And another guy was hanging out in the wings.

  She stared out at the cold, gray campus through the fogged coffee-shop window as she waited for her drink. She and Max had broken up three other times. This time, though, he’d rejected her along with a box of all her stuff from his house. She was pretty sure he’d had some other tail waiting to bring home and hadn’t wanted the new mark to see black lipstick and think it was his. God, why would she even think about answering his messages? Maybe four times was enough to realize the dude was not worth it.

  No. It wasn’t just that. Somehow, Jack’s presence in her life figured into her newfound strength.

  Another vibration. Max again. I’ve been thinking. Missing you. We should talk.

  Same shit, different day. The other woman had left, and he was probably horny. Well, so was she.

  But lately all her dreams were about Jack. She checked the Steam app again instead of replying. For a pro gamer, he didn’t seem to be doing much gaming. Maybe he had another handle she didn’t know about. That would just figure.

  Her phone shook in her hand again. I want to see you. I got that position in Colorado. I think you should come with me.

  What kind of idiot dumps a girl, then tries to get her to move cross-country with him without even making up with her first? Like offering to have her move with him—and presumably move in—was such a great prize that that alone should lure her back. She would have to be crazy or stupid to walk away from her fellowship and all the work she’d already put in at UDW. It’d be just giving up on her doctorate, bowing out right before the finish line. And he had to know that. And he thought she might be remotely interested?

  Self-important, moronic ass. Nope nope nope.

  Instead, enough waiting. She opened the Steam app. Sure enough, he was online.

  Vio-45: Haven’t heard from you, need anything?

  The reply indicator started up almost instantly.

  S1NT1NEL: Sorry. All’s been quiet over here. GC4 this weekend kept me busy.

  She should have realized—Global Championships was the second biggest international invitational in his game. She’d gotten out of following the big tournaments. Had he had to travel?

  Vio-45: Did you win?

  S1NT1NEL: Didn’t play

  She frowned. Since when did he miss a big tournament? And what was he doing if he wasn’t playing? She should probably drop it if that was a sore spot.

  Vio-45: Going to Mouse’s party tonight?

  He hadn’t gone last year, but she was fairly sure he had a standing invitation. A few seconds later, her heart pounded at the rapid response.

  S1NT1NEL: will you be there?

  As if her presence mattered.

  Vio-45: Yes. Promised Mouse I’d ride with him. Showing up early so the bar won’t be empty

  S1NT1NEL: Then there will at least be three of us

  She sucked in a breath. He’d all but made it sound like he was coming specifically for her.

  Just a job, just a job, just a job, fuck.

  This is Mouse’s party. He’s Mouse’s friend. He’s just going to see his friend. She had nothing to do with it. Obviously. But his messages seemed so…

  Oh, stop overanalyzing, you whore. He was saying that casually, and she was reading too much into it. This was a contract, and that was that. Perhaps when it was over she could see if he still responded to her texts.

  That was going to add up to a lot of unfulfilled dreams, though.

  She groaned. She hadn’t heard them call her name, and her coffee was sitting on the counter, waiting for her. Time to get through the rest of those papers at record speed, because she needed to get ready for this damn party. The quirky T-shirt and jeans she’d planned to wear were not going to cut it.

  Jack scrambled to get the last bit of video to transfer from the recorder. Today, of all days, he couldn’t get it to upload correctly, or download correctly, and everything had gone wrong. Things always could with technology, but they often picked the worst times. He had a sponsorship on this. It had to go up today, not tomorrow, not Sunday.

  Hey, I’m delayed a bit by work. Been crazy. I’ll be there soon. He hesitated, his thumb hovering over the send button. Was he really going to say that to her, to be that specific?

  At Eden, he’d kissed her and walked out certain that for the first time in his life, he was going to go after this girl. To actually pursue her because he liked her, wanted her. Not casually. Ready to let her take an icepick to his heart, if she so chose.

  Then he’d spent the rest of the weekend telling himself he had too much work to do anything just yet. He’d streamed half the weekend. Even subscribers were
pointing out he’d rarely been online for so long before and offering to send Monster. He’d gotten commentaries up in record time.

  His channels were doing great, numbers were up all over the place, and did he feel the slightest bit happy about it? Yeah, right.

  He was fucking terrified. But she’d nudged the snowball, and it was rolling down the hill.

  Sorry. Tell Mouse. Don’t want you two thinking I was flaking out on you. Maybe that text would make him sound less desperate.

  She didn’t reply.

  Finally the download cooperated and went into the processing queue. Best he could do for now. It’d be live shortly. Ideally, he’d wait and check it had no errors, but not tonight.

  He checked his phone again. Delivered, not read.

  Probably because she was busy talking to some other guy. He’d hope it was Mouse and not someone hetero—and single. He grabbed his parka and raced for the door.

  The gay bar was in a swanky section of town, and his Beamer was far from alone as it went into the valet parking. He still would have rather parked farther away—somewhere he wouldn’t run into anyone he knew. But he was late. That hadn’t ever mattered before.

  And she hadn’t texted back. That seemed strange. No, she probably just didn’t give a shit.

  Just a job, Sin. His gut twisted. He was going to make this not just a job or go up in flames. Did that make him more of an asshole or less of one?

  He smoothed his button-down as he handed his coat to the coat check, scanning the bar. His shoulders tightened, and his heart pounded faster. He never came to bars anymore. But he could do it this once. For Violet.

  His eyes caught on her as though drawn to a magnet. They also caught the likely reason for her lack of replies.

  She was backed against a Ms. Pac-Man arcade game. Some dude a head taller than her had his arm propped up against the wall, caging her between him and the machine. Too tall to be leather-jacket guy. Jack struggled to read the expression on her face. Nothing good.

  His heart started to race, adrenaline flooding in like at the start of a match. A match where he was playing a great hero against a frankly subpar opponent, a competitor he was sure he’d have no trouble crushing.

  That was most of them, but still.

  He stalked back, heading straight for them. Vi hadn’t spotted him over the hulk’s shoulder yet. Jack finally picked her voice out amid the bar’s chaos. “Max, give me my fucking phone, dammit.”

  Jack slowed, trying to pick up on the conversation. What if she wanted her ex back? He had dumped her, not the other way around, and she hadn’t seemed too happy about it. She already thought Jack was enough of an asshole; he shouldn’t go around pounding his chest where she didn’t want him. But if that guy’s attentions were unwanted, the dude was done for.

  “Little bear, c’mon. We’ve been through so much, hear me out.”

  Little bear? He couldn’t think of a nickname that fit worse.

  “No, Max. No way. It would ruin my career. After I’ve done all this work? What the hell?”

  “But we’ll be together. Like we belong. Give me a chance, love. What’s a career when you have love?”

  “Max, you broke up with me. Where was love then?”

  “That was stupid. I just thought I was doing what’s best for you. I knew this might be coming, and I didn’t want you to feel torn. I was trying to protect you. I know how much work you’ve put in.”

  “How about you let me make my own decisions?”

  “But then staring at the prospect of life without you, Vi… I felt lost. Upended. I don’t want to face it. I want you to come with me. We’re soul mates.”

  Jack struggled not to gag. Was she buying this? God, he hoped not.

  “You kicked me out on my ass how many weeks ago? Was it three or four? Exactly how long did it take you to feel ‘upended’? Cause you know you could have just not broken up with me then.”

  “I told you I was sorry. You’ve got a lot going on, you know.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “I just get intimidated by you. A little. Your obsession with your work is… well, I’ll be honest, it’s a bit compulsive. But I’m willing to overlook all that. Because I love you, Vi.”

  “Compulsive? Fuck, I’m not working any harder than anybody else.”

  “Look, I overcorrected. I just never feel like I measure up, you know? Your work always comes first. It’s everything. Why can’t you pick me for once for a change?”

  Jack waited for her response, nails digging into his palms at his sides.

  When she finally spoke, her voice was hard as steel, and it sent a thrill through him. “Why do you want to force me to choose?” she whispered. “My work—my research—is going to change the world, you prick. Maybe not tomorrow or next month or in this thesis. But in the long run, it will. If you cared about me, you’d care about that too.”

  “Vi, of course I care about you. Don’t get so emotional—”

  “I’m not emotional, I’m crystal fucking clear. You want unemotional? Choosing you over my own potential would be highly illogical. You’re an abysmal investment of both my energy and my time. I’d also have to be an idiot to trust you after dumping me four times. And you know what? There’s nothin’ wrong with a little Facebook or Twitter now and then!”

  His head jerked back at that. As if that was the worst thing she’d said. “How can you say that, Violet?”

  “I kinda like Tumblr too! You’re just too big for your britches, ain’t you? Well, I’m done. Now give me my fuckin’ phone.”

  Much as he was enjoying the show, Jack had a feeling that that was his cue. He took the last two steps forward and tapped Max on the shoulder.

  Max shrugged him off without even turning. “Hey, buddy, I’m not interested, okay?”

  “Neither is she.”

  Match time.

  Her ex turned toward Jack, glaring daggers. Max was at least three inches taller and naturally muscular, with a full head of black locks and a beard to match. “Hey, fuck off, dude. This is my girlfriend, okay? Just a little argument.”

  “I’m not your—”

  “I said I love you, Vi,” Max said, glancing back over his shoulder. Jack didn’t miss the threat tinging his voice now, the implication that it wasn’t necessarily a choice. He looked back at Jack, spreading his hands in a shrug that sought to invoke some kind of brotherly mystification with women. “Clearly all the Twitter has gone to her brain.”

  “Sin—” she started, sidestepping out of her trapped corner.

  “You know this dude?” Max spun on Violet, grabbing her elbow.

  “Give her the phone back,” Jack demanded coolly. “I’m not asking again.” Partly because the bouncers had picked up on the two of them squaring off.

  “Oh, are you the reason she’s looking at her phone every fifteen seconds? Fuck you.” He held the phone up and then stabbed it at Jack’s chest with one pointed finger. Jack took a step back, and Max followed, releasing Vi’s elbow.

  Perfect.

  He snatched the phone easily and the bastard’s arm with it, pulling him forward while sending a knee into his solar plexus. No hesitation. Max went tumbling via his own momentum, dumped on the floor like a sack of beans beside them.

  Jack held out her phone as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. She didn’t take it, just stared at it with wide eyes, then at him.

  Fuck. He’d done something wrong.

  A bouncer came pushing through the crowd. “What’s going on here?”

  Violet piped up. “This man took my phone and was harassing me. This… gentleman got my phone back.” She reached out and took the phone now.

  “All right, you get a pass. Just this once.” The bouncer hauled Max to his feet. “Let’s go, buddy.” He led Max away but not without a warning glare over his shoulder at Jack. “Don’t want to see that again, though, dude. You come and get one of us next time.”

  Jack nodded. He glanced around, looking f
or Mouse, not sure if Vi was glad, angry, embarrassed, or wanted to tell him to fuck off. She was staring at the floor. Then his eyes caught on the rest of her.

  A black spaghetti-strap dress clung to her body with desperation, and a mesh dress over it teased, red roses twining up her thighs, her wrists, around the bust. Her normal ass-kicking boots were gone, replaced with even more gulp-worthy thigh-high boots with an insane heel.

  It was all he could do to keep himself from staring at her thighs.

  “Oh, I didn’t get these last two. He had my phone by then,” she muttered.

  “Shit, that was a while ago.” She slumped against Ms. Pac-Man like it was all that was supporting her. He fought the urge to rush over to her, to help hold her up, but allowed himself to take a step forward at least.

  She waved it off. “Nothing I haven’t heard before. Damn. I’m sorry about… all that.” She met his gaze.

  “What is there for you to be sorry for? Besides, I like hearing you tell people off, apparently even when they aren’t my family. That was pretty fantastic.”

  She smiled weakly. “Why do so many people suggest I never get a job? Like they think it’s such a great idea that just hasn’t occurred to me. What part of ‘PhD in physics’ says I want to be taken home and coddled?”

  “I don’t think it’s so much about you as about them.”

  She frowned, looking thoughtful. “You’re probably right.”

  “It makes you a conquest,” he murmured, inching a little closer while he eyed the crowd.

  “What?” Her voice held an edge, eyes suddenly narrowed.

  “They want someone to control. It’s easy to control someone who never wants anything, who would love someone to provide for them. And those people can be happy when they find someone who understands, who wants to provide for them, a mutually beneficial arrangement. But that’s not what you’re dealing with. Someone who wants to be one half of a certain kind of team isn’t enough for people like him. They want someone to control. To conquer. To tame. It’s much more of a challenge.”

  It was about the ego boost too, but he couldn’t bring himself to say that awfulness out loud. But he knew. Max wanted Vi to want him more than anything. More than her career. More than herself. Thank God she didn’t—Jack knew where that led. He stared at the concrete, seeing only his mother’s face in those few days before she’d left, how hollow she had seemed. How empty. Had it been how much she’d given or how little she’d gotten back that had destroyed her in the end? Neither he nor Violet was much like his mother, he reminded himself.