Chapter 11
Sumner
I had to be honest with myself. Sly was the kind of guy I’d wished Joey would be. He was funny in a way that wasn’t forced, honest without having to ask for it, and protective without making it controlling. Those were three things I cared about, and Joey had never managed one of them.
The longer we talked, the more I noticed how my body settled.
Having Sly across from me felt good. It took the edge off the bad noise in my head.
I kept trying to tell myself not to feel anything, not right now, not in this mess, but he made it hard to ignore the difference.
He was kind. He made me laugh, which mattered more than I liked to admit.
He kept an eye on me and still gave me space, exactly like I’d asked.
He wasn’t pushing. Nothing felt rushed. Maybe I could let him come around more often.
Maybe he’d be a good friend. I could start there.
“What else is on that bucket list?” I asked. I was sure there were more fun things on it.
“Many different things. Skydiving, go on a road trip with no real destination, write a romance novel.”
“You want to write a book?” I asked, amused but also interested.
“Yeah. I’m creative, you know?”
“I don’t doubt that.” I smiled. “I’m actually an editor.”
His eyes widened. “You are? No fucking way…” His gaze dropped to my bag on the chair. “That’s why you’ve been typing all day.”
I nodded. “I’m currently editing two dark romances.”
He looked genuinely pleased. “See? We’re just meant for each other. It’s like we’re each other’s missing puzzle piece.”
I laughed softly. “Don’t you think many people would like to write a book someday?”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t. But even if… what are the chances of those people crossing paths with an editor?”
“Hm. You’re right.” I smiled gently and settled more into my chair. “What would your book be about?”
He shrugged, like he was deciding how much to give. “Love,” he said, and after a beat added, “and murders.”
I narrowed my eyes. “So if it’s a romance, does the hero try and kill the heroine before they fall madly in love with each other?”
“No, I wouldn’t romanticize a man’s abusive behavior and give him a redemption arc just because he’s a handsome fella.
” He sounded serious, and I appreciated his view on this matter.
I wasn’t saying authors weren’t allowed to write their characters the way they wanted to, but Sly’s words made me wish more fictional men didn’t abuse their women before marrying them.
“It would be more of a life story,” he added. “Based on real events.”
“Yeah?”
He nodded, his expression closing a little. “I don’t believe any man should ever hurt a woman. Fiction or not. It’s just not right.”
Just what I was thinking.
“But a man hurting other men is okay?” I challenged.
He shrugged, a smug grin slipping in. “If those men were the reason for another man’s traumatic past, sure.”
It shouldn’t have made sense. Killing wasn’t okay.
I still would’ve been lying if I said I’d never wanted Joey gone.
The thoughts had come more than once. I wouldn’t act on them, but they lived in the corners of my brain.
And if I were being fair, Sly hadn’t actually killed anyone.
He’d stood in the rooms at the right times, and accidents had finished the job.
His intent had been ugly, but it wasn’t him doing the killings.
I decided it was time to change the subject. I didn’t want our conversation to turn dark.
“And what do you do for work?” I asked, wanting the fuller picture now that we were unofficially getting to know each other.
“When I tell you, I need you not to judge me.”
“I would never.”
“Okay. I’m a faceless gamer.”
Not what I expected, but it fit him. I tipped my head. “So you make videos of yourself playing video games without showing your face?”
“That’s the exact job description,” he said with a grin.
“So, if I look up your name, I will find you?”
“No. I use a screen name.”
“And will you tell it to me?”
His surprise seemed more like flattery than guardedness. “You wanna watch my videos?”
“Sure. I like watching other people play video games sometimes.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, it’s because I suck at playing them myself.”
There it was again. That flash of admiration. “See, the more you talk, the more I’m certain that we’re meant to be together. Fuck, I’ve just fallen in love with you for the third time.”
I laughed, and while three times seemed like an exaggeration, I didn’t question it because, again, he made me feel special.
“So? What’s your screen name?”
“It’s VisorDown.”
“VisorDown?”
“Yeah.”
“How’d you come up with that?”
“I didn’t, actually. It was one of my followers.
When I first started six years ago, I was already streaming with my helmet on.
I always had the visor down, and one follower kept commenting that I should put my visor up.
And sure enough, I changed my screen name from User18363993572 to VisorDown, just to mock that person.
And to make a statement that I was never going to take my helmet off online. ”
I chuckled. “Makes sense. And are you famous? I mean, do you have millions of followers like some other gamers?”
“Pretty much.”
“How many followers do you have?” It wouldn’t change anything, but I wanted to understand his world.
“Nineteen million.”
My jaw dropped. “Whoa, that’s amazing. Congrats.”
He smiled, proud, not cocky. That steadiness made sense with everything else I’d seen in him. He had not one single arrogant bone in his body.
“So if you’re a faceless streamer, does that mean I’m the only one who knows what VisorDown looks like?”
He chuckled. “Yes, and I’d appreciate it if you’d keep it to yourself.”
“Don’t worry,” I said, smiling. “I can keep a secret.”
“Good.”
We sat there for a while in an easy silence when I decided to ask him a question I had never really asked anyone.
“Sly?”
“Yeah, Sumner?”
“You know…I really like having you around. And maybe I do need someone to talk to now and then. So maybe we could be friends.”
“Damn it.”
My brows pulled together. “What?”
“I was hoping you wouldn’t friend-zone me.”
I pressed my lips together. “I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t be.” His mouth tipped into a small smile. “I know you need to process your last relationship, and I don’t want to push you into something you’re not ready for. So…friends is fine. For now.”
The way he said it almost made me change my mind on the spot. He was right, though. I needed time to let every memory of Joey disappear. It wasn’t fair that he got to forget, and I didn’t.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Of course.”
We sat there looking at each other, letting that agreement land, until a server stepped up to the table. “I’m sorry to bother you two, but if you’re not getting anything else to eat or drink, I’ll have to ask you to free up the table. We’ve got customers waiting.”
We both snapped our heads up.
“Oh…yes, sorry.” I stood and slid my bag over my shoulder. Sly got up too, and we headed for the door together.
He reached for the handle and pulled, but the door didn’t open. He muttered a curse and yanked again, but the door didn’t budge.
I laughed and touched his arm. “Sly, you have to push,” I said, pointing to the tiny word by the handle.
His face went blank, then he rolled his eyes at himself and pushed it open. “What an idiot,” he muttered.
“You’re not an idiot,” I said, still amused. “Just a man who ignores instructional labels.”
We stepped out onto the sidewalk and stopped beside April. I took my time looking at the bike up close, and I was fascinated by its beauty.
“She’s beautiful,” I said, brushing my fingers lightly over the tank. “I’ve never been on a bike.”
“No?” He lifted a brow and grabbed his helmet. “I could take you on a ride one day.”
“Is it dangerous?” I asked. I didn’t really trust fast vehicles that didn’t have seatbelts.
“Depends on how reckless the driver is.”
“And are you reckless?”
“Only when I don’t have a backpack.”
“Backpack?”
“A person riding on the back.”
“That’s the term for that? A backpack?” I asked, laughing.
“Yeah.” He grinned. “It’s just a dumb biker term.”
“I see. And have you had many backpacks before?”
He shook his head. “None.”
“So I’d be your first?”
He nodded. “And my only.”
Heat rushed up my neck. I looked down at the seat and traced the seam with my fingertips. “Well, I drove my car here, so I can’t today. But…someday.”
“Someday,” he echoed. “I’ll make sure to get a second helmet.”
I looked up and smiled. “Great. So, I should go home.”
I said the words without really meaning them. I didn’t want to go. Not yet.
“Yeah.” His smile did the same stupid thing to my chest it apparently always did. “I had a good time with you.”
“Me too.” We stood there, a little awkward, in a space where both of us wanted more but neither dared to push. I bit the inside of my cheek, then cleared my throat. “Can I give you a hug?”
“Yes, please.”
The “please” made me laugh. God, he was too sweet.
“You really have to stop laughing like that,” he said, setting the helmet back on the seat and stepping closer to me. “Only makes me like you more.”
His hands slid around my waist and pulled me in. I wrapped my arms over his shoulders and pressed my body against his. We stood there and breathed for a while. His palms moved slowly on my back as we buried our faces in each other’s necks.
“Fuck, and you smell incredible,” he murmured, voice low against my neck. He pressed a small kiss to my skin and pulled back just enough to meet my eyes. “You should really go if you don’t want me to go a step further and kidnap you.”
I laughed again, because he could make almost anything sound harmless, even that line. I squeezed him tighter before I let go.
We eased apart, but not all the way. My hands stayed on his arms, and his stayed on my waist. I looked at his face and didn’t need to guess at what he was thinking. He didn’t want to leave either.
So I did the simple thing and asked, “Do you want to come over?”
“Fuck, yes. Immediately.”
My cheeks burned, and my heart fluttered uncontrollably. “Okay. But you have to promise me not to try anything. We’re still just friends.”
“I promise,” he said, his eyes honest and his words serious. “I’m just happy to be around you and make sure you’re okay.”
“Okay.” I smiled gently, then pointed my thumb over my shoulder. “I’ll get my car. You can just follow me. Though you probably already know where I live.”
“I do.” His smirk was crooked. “But I’ll follow you.”
“Okay.” I watched him again for a moment before taking a few steps back, then finally tearing my eyes off him and turning around.
It was me who needed to promise not to try anything, because the idea of having him in my apartment did something to me. It excited me. Maybe a little too much.