15. Amy
Amy
Waking up the next morning is torture.
Pure torture.
I'm sore in places I didn't know it was possible to be sore. Who the fuck gets sore between their thighs? Since when is that a thing?
Lucky does her business in seconds once I get her downstairs—thank God—because I don't need the entire world seeing me with smeared make-up and shorts that barely peek out from beneath an ex-boyfriend's t-shirt.
Every bit of me is focused on trying not to think about last night.
Which was hot.
But when I think of how I ran out of there, terrified by how much I wanted to stay…
Jesus. I'll be lucky if he ever looks at me twice after that.
I'm not thinking about last night. Nope. Not at all.
Steam billows around me as I step into the shower, water scalding my skin pink. I wince as I reach for the shampoo bottle. Christ, even my arms are sore. Images of Liam's hands gripping my wrists flash through my mind. The slick slide of his body against mine, the deep rumble of his voice in my ear as he—
Fuck.
I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the memories away. Soap suds sting as they slip down my face. I'm not thinking about it. I'm here for work, not pleasure.
Except last night was very, very pleasurable.
No. Stop.
I turn the water to cold, letting it shock some sense into me. Goosebumps prickle my skin as I towel off, the fluffy cotton soothing against my tender flesh. There's beard-burn in a few spots, and that makes me—
No. Nope.
In the bedroom, I slip into a retro shirtwaist dress, the skirt swishing around my thighs. As I smooth my palms down the front, I can almost feel Liam's fingers trailing the same path, his touch electric even through the fabric.
Jesus, I'm fucking hopeless.
Perched at the vanity, I work curl cream through my damp hair, scrunching the ringlets to encourage them. The diffuser drowns out my spiraling thoughts for a blessed few minutes. But as I lean closer to the mirror to apply my makeup, I can't help but remember how Liam looked at me last night, his eyes dark and wanting. Like I was the only thing that mattered.
No one's ever looked at me like that before.
I swipe on lipstick, a deep crimson that makes me feel powerful and sexy, even if I'm a mess on the inside. Grabbing my bag, I take a deep breath and head for the door.
It's fine. I can do this. I'll walk into that conference room and wow them with my sparkling personality and razor-sharp gaming skills. And if I run into Liam...
Well. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.
It might be shameful to run right after the best sex of your life—seriously, the best, bar none—but it isn't a sin. Right?
Maybe he'll think I'm quirky. Quirky is fine. Quirky is doable. And if I can finagle a second date, I'll be less panicky and flight-prone.
Deep down, I know there won't be a second date. I'm going to pretend like nothing ever happened. Like I don't know who he is.
It's how I roll when shit touches that vulnerable part of me I have locked away.
But first, work.
"Amy Sloane." I extend my hand, willing confidence into my voice. "Pleasure to meet you."
The man across from me grins, his teeth startlingly white against his tanned skin. He's dressed in standard business casual—crisp button-down, tailored slacks—but perched atop his head is an honest-to-God crown. Glittery and silver, like something out of a little girl's dress-up box.
And are those... elf ears? Delicately pointed tips peeking out from his dark hair?
I blink. Nope, still there.
"The name's K." He clasps my hand firmly. "The pleasure is all mine."
I can't help it—my eyes flick back to the crown. "So, uh. What's with the...?" I gesture vaguely.
The glittery plastic catches the light as he stares at me, eyebrow raised. "The crown is mandatory. Company policy."
"Oh, really?" I can't stop the smirk tugging at my lips. "Must have missed that memo."
"Clearly." His eyes sparkle with mischief. "You're not wearing yours. We'll have to rectify that later."
I snort. "Right. I'll get right on that."
"See that you do." He winks, then gestures toward the conference room. "Shall we?"
I follow him in, taking in the transformed space. Two mini-studios face each other, complete with top-of-the-line gaming rigs and plush armchairs that look sinfully comfortable.
"Wow. When you guys commit, you really commit."
"Only the best for our star influencers." K grins, then points to the setup on the left. "That one's yours. We've got everything ready to go, but let me know if you need anything."
I nod, running a hand over the sleek desktop, already spinning in RGB. "This will be fine. Thank you. Isn't this a mobile game, though?"
"Our pleasure." He claps his hands together. "Yes, Eden's End: A New Dawn is a mobile game, but also playable on desktop. Coming soon to all the usual consoles, but for now we will have you play it on both platforms, to showcase its versatility."
"Ah." That makes sense. "How do I get started?"
K leads me over to one of the plush recliners. "We want to capture your authentic first experience with Eden's End. No prep, just dive right in on stream." He grins. "But first, a brief interview to introduce you to the audience. Sound good?"
I sink into the cushion, willing my nerves to settle. "Sure, let's do it."
The crown bobs as he nods. "Whenever you're ready." He gestures to someone behind the cameras.
A red light blinks on. Showtime.
"I'm here with AmYDeadYet, a rising star in our streaming world." K's voice shifts into announcer mode, smooth and polished. "Welcome, Amy. Tell us a bit about yourself."
I clear my throat. "Well, I'm a professional dog groomer by day, gamer by night. I love anything with a good story and memorable characters."
"What drew you to streaming?"
Memories of Paul flash through my mind. The hurt, the anger. I push them aside. He wasn't around when I first started streaming. He's nothing more than the most recent wound from it, almost ruining the experience.
"Honestly? It started as a way to blow off steam. Life got complicated, and gaming was my escape. Sharing that with others, building a community... it's been incredibly rewarding."
K leans forward, elbows on his knees. "You're known for your FPS and horror playthroughs. What is it about those genres that appeal to you?"
A genuine smile spreads across my face. "Horror games are intense, immersive. They get your heart pounding, adrenaline pumping. There's nothing quite like conquering your fears, even virtually." I shrug. "Plus, who doesn't love a good scare? FPS is more of the same. It's fun."
"Ain't that the truth." K chuckles. "Now, what caught your interest about Eden's End: A New Dawn?"
I sit up straighter. "The world-building sounds incredible. It's like all my favorite post-apocalyptic tropes rolled into one! I can't wait to explore every inch of it. I'm a little worried because it's not what I normally play, but I'm sure I'm going to love it. Besides, I've been told there are zombies. We all know I love zombies."
"Well, you won't have to wait long." K winks at the camera. "Stick around, folks. AmYDeadYet's first foray into Eden's End: A New Dawn, coming up next."
The red light blinks off. I exhale, shoulders dropping.
K grins. "See? Not so bad, is it?"
"I felt weird. It's not like streaming." I groan. "I felt like an idiot answering the questions. You should have prepped me on them beforehand."
He waves a hand flippantly. "We're all about the authentic reactions. Your partner should be here any second. The streams open in fifteen minutes. Since you have an online persona, we gave him one, too. I think it'll go over pretty well."
He chuckles, sounding way too amused. "He might kill me, though. Don't be scared. He's all bark, no bite."
While waiting, K positions me in front of a window, angling my body in the lighting as he pleases. The camera flashes, capturing my forced smile. I'm trying not to let my nerves show, but the anticipation is killing me.
I've been successfully streaming for a few years, but this is a new level.
The door swings open and my head snaps up. My jaw drops. A man in full tactical gear strides in, a white skull mask obscuring his face. Holy shit.
"Phantom cosplay is his persona?" The words tumble out before I can stop them.
K's laughter fills the room. "Brilliant, right?"
Phantom—Skull Mask Guy—scoffs. "It's stupid, and the amount we have to pay to let it happen is ridiculous."
That voice... It can't be. I shake my head, trying to dispel the notion. I'm projecting. I'm crazy. Liam is everywhere in my thoughts today. Of course I'd imagine him in this ridiculous getup.
Still, hearing that deep timbre sends a shiver down my spine. It's unsettling how much this stranger affects me, all because he reminds me of Liam, except a Liam in the sexiest cosplay alive.
Jesus Christ. Even after being railed last night, I'm still ready to throw myself at any man in tac gear? I have a problem. Maybe I have a hitherto unknown sex addiction.
Tearing my eyes from Skull Mask Guy, I force myself to focus as K guides me back to the chair, setting up all of our streaming. It takes no time at all to log into my stream, which has been advertised for the past couple days—by me, and by the company.
What if no one joins? Or they leave because they hate it? Wow. That would be… pathetic.
They have fake accounts for situations like that. Right?
Anyway, I can't let my feelings for Liam bleed into every interaction. Besides, the last time I fell for a guy in cosplay, it ended in disaster. Paul Picklestick, AKA my cheating ex, is proof enough of that.
And even if I wanted something more, I'm currently in a vague situation with Liam, and I'm not about to add another entanglement to my plate.
Straightening my shoulders, I resolve to maintain my professionalism. Whoever this masked man is, he's a colleague, not a potential love interest. I won't make the same mistake twice—
"Liam, a quick photo before we start. This is going to be great. I'm brilliant. Okay, try to look menacing. Maybe less menacing. Okay, no, more menacing. Yep, that's perfect."
Liam.
Liam .
My Liam?
Liam who fucked me like I'd never been fucked before?
Elevator Liam?
Liam who twiddled me at the bar, in public ?
Liam the not-a-driver?
I stare at the man in cosplay, my eyes roving over his body. He's massive. Bulky. The tactical gear emphasizes his broad shoulders, his muscular thighs. I can't see his hair under the mask, but when he turns on K's orders, our eyes meet.
They're a gorgeous blue-green, a shade I've only seen once before. On Liam. In the elevator, in my room, in the throes of passion.
Realization is a bitch. It's a fucking plane crash straight into my heart.
The man I slept with last night, the one who gave me the most intense pleasure I've ever known... is my streaming partner. And he didn't say a word.
Rage blazes through me as I keep my face impassive. He knew. He fucking knew, and he hid it from me. Was last night a game to him? A conquest before the big revelation?
Seething in silence, I clench my teeth so hard my jaw aches. I want to demand answers, but I can't. I'm not starting drama at my job .
I'm a fucking professional.
So I fake it. I paste on a smile that feels more like a grimace, force a laugh that sounds hollow even to my own ears as the streams begin.
Of course it's Liam. I remember now. Liam, Asher's friend. Liam, the landlord. Liam . God. Sam had said something about him seducing me, and I'd only paid minimal attention to his name.
Stupid, stupid Amy.
He's across from me, in his own area. They film as we stream—something about putting together episodes or something, I don't know. It all goes over my head, because I'm too busy raging.
I play the part of the excited influencer, gushing over the game, the setup, the opportunity. The game's cute. It really is. I even enjoy it, when I don't want to leap over my desk to claw that stupid mask off Liam's face.
Inside, I'm a mess of emotions. Betrayal, anger, humiliation.
I focus on the game, refusing to make eye contact.
My character's a tiny little elf, with long black hair and green eyes. I name her Ash, because I imagine burning Liam into a pile of it and then throwing them over the ocean so he can swim with the fucking fish.
And all the while, I feel his eyes on me. Those damnable blue-green eyes, watching me from behind that stupid mask. What is he thinking? Is he enjoying this? Reveling in my discomfort?
I don't know. I can't tell. And it's driving me insane.
The minutes drag by, each one an eternity. I've never been so relieved to hear K call for a break. I'm out of my chair in an instant, mumbling some excuse about needing the restroom.