Chapter 33
“Dammit, you’ve got to get back in bed before you pass out!”
Jackson gives a carefree shrug and continues to fuck around. When I glare at him, he chuckles.
“Dude, seriously. We can’t afford the doctor's bill if you pass out. You already drained all our resources with your nonsense.” I run a hand through my hair, watching the clock anxiously.
“Alright, chill. I’m getting in bed.” Jackson meanders toward the bed, pausing for a moment to check something in his inventory right as he gets to the edge of it. He almost gives me an aneurism as he fucks around until the very last possible second.
He slides into the bed right before the clock flicks to 2am, and the screen goes black with a cheerful little chime to tell us that the day has ended.
Jackson sets his controller down and takes a sip of his beer, eyeing me as I ease down from the seething frustration that’s been building inside me thanks to his chaotic play style. “All in all, a pretty good day,” he says as the game shows a tally of our earnings.
“Would’ve been better if someone didn’t spend half the day giving shitty shells to random townsfolk instead of helping me in the mines,” I grumble, taking a heavy swig from my can of cider.
When Jackson proposed, or more accurately, bullied me into having a best friend game night, I was excited to spend some one-on-one time with him.
Our schedules haven’t aligned well since he started working as a heat minder.
Half the time I’m free, he’s gone, and vice versa.
And now with him starting to date Camille, the odds of me getting solo time with Jackson aren’t great.
Not that I blame him. He hasn’t dated in a long time, and I’d be a hypocrite to begrudge him exploring a romantic connection.
Jackson didn’t give me shit when I met Ambrose and fell head over heels for him.
He doesn’t complain that my mate is almost always there too when we hang out.
Granted, Jackson’s not interested in me romantically, so that probably makes it easier for him to see me with Ambrose.
Shit, what am I even saying? I’m not interested in Jackson romantically, either. Or Camille, for that matter. Both of those ships have sailed.
The only potential saving grace for friend time with Jackson is that Camille is dating Ambrose, too.
You’d think I’d be upset about my mate going off to be with someone else, and yeah, there’s a touch of that, but it means there’s carved out time when both Jackson and I are free from any other obligations.
As much as the big beta shithead is annoying me right now, I can’t help smiling to myself.
Sitting on the couch together, drinking, gaming, and taking the piss out of each other reminds me of college.
Before any real adult responsibilities got in the way, we’d spend entire weekends eating garbage and wearing divots in the shape of our asses into the crappy secondhand couch we got for our first apartment together.
Those were some of the best days of my life.
They were also some of the most sexually repressed, given I was still pining for the handsome beta who’d never look at me the same way.
But amazing, nonetheless.
“Why do you have that weird smile on your face?” Jackson asks, poking me in the arm.
“Are you plotting revenge? Because I don’t think you’re able to kill other players in this game.
Unless you installed some kind of twisted mod.
” He pauses, narrowing his eyes at me. “Did you desecrate our idyllic farm with the ability to murder, you sick freak?”
I scoff. “Unfortunately for me, no. Otherwise I would’ve done what was best for the good of the farm already. You’d contribute more as fertilizer.”
Jackson gasps and clutches his chest. “Hey, I’m making valuable social connections! Not everything is about working your ass off and how much money you can accumulate.”
“You’re just trying to romance as many villagers as you can.” I roll my eyes. “But newsflash: Everyone hates those fucking shells. You’re not even doing a good job of being a lothario.”
Jackson crosses his arms over his chest, and I have to take a swig of my drink to tamp down the way my stomach flutters when the sleeves of his shirt strain across his massive biceps. If I didn’t know better, I think he buys his shirts too small on purpose to torture me.
“Yeah, well, at least I’m trying! Good luck getting any action down in the mines.”
We scowl at each other for a long moment before we both break, our silly argument falling away as we erupt into laughter.
“Wanna do another day?” Jackson asks, wiping a tear from his eyes.
I grin back at him and nod. “Absolutely.”
“So, who do you normally romance?” Jackson asks as he follows me around diligently to water the crops right after I plant the seeds. “Wait, don’t tell me. Let me guess…”
I glance over to see his tongue poking out the side of his mouth in concentration as he attempts to consider my romantic options while watering at the same time. My stomach does a little flip at how unfairly adorable this man is, and how oblivious he is to that fact.
“The older, kinda nerdy doctor, right?” Jackson guesses. “Or is that too obvious?”
“No, he’s definitely in my top three,” I reply, immediately regretting my answer when Jackson’s eyes light up.
“Ooo, who are the others?”
My heart races. I don’t want to tell him. What if he reads things into my answers? They’re pretty damn incriminating. Out of the potential romantic options in this farming sim, I love the supportive doctor, the sweet jock, and the standoffish redhead.
I swallow hard and shrug. “I like the artist girl and the programmer.”
Jackson scoffs, unconvinced by my lie. “Yeah, sure, and my favorite is the asshole megacorp guy.”
“You can’t romance him,” I reply drolly.
“I bet you like the weird shadow creature that lives in the sewers,” Jackson retorts. “You’re a little freak like that.”
I laugh and shake my head. I actually think the storyline for the platonic monster relationship is sweet, but I’m not about to tell him that and have him tease me for weeks about getting dicked down by shadow cock.
“You can hold down the button to water a larger space,” I say, seizing the opportunity to change the subject when I notice his inefficiency.
Jackson watches in awe as I demonstrate, his mouth dropping open. “Whoa, wait, what? How long has that been a thing?”
I quirk a brow at him. “What did you think was the point of upgrading your watering can?”
“Uh, for it to look fancier? I don’t know, dude, I just do what you tell me because I don’t want to get in trouble again.”
I can’t tell from his tone if he’s joking or not. “I’m not really that mean, am I?” There’s no tension in the bond, but for all I know, he’s keeping his end locked down right now.
A cheeky grin spreads across his face, the smile lighting up the entire living room with its brilliance. When Jackson smiles at me, my anxieties melt away. He’s magical that way, even if I’d never openly admit that to him.
“No, Riv. I like when you’re bossy. Plus, it’s fun to feel the little jolts of satisfaction through the bond when I do what you ask me to do.”
Fuck me. He says it with such a straight face while my perverted thoughts immediately go to wondering if, in an alternate dimension where Jackson was into men, he’d enjoy listening to me boss him around in other ways.
“See, like that!” Jackson’s grin grows even wider. “You pretend like you’re not as controlling or dominant as other alphas, but you can’t hide it from me.”
Dammit, I never should’ve agreed to keeping my end of the bond open.
It was a stipulation for us trying out this new arrangement with Camille so my packmates would know I wasn’t concealing my feelings or being self-sacrificing.
I don’t have to do it all the time, but my mental walls absolutely need to be lowered while Ambrose is on his date with Camille.
I agreed to it at the time, but that was because I forgot how unintentionally flirty Jackson can be when we hang out together.
At least he’s interpreting my reactions as generic alpha bossiness and not me wresting with mental images of him on his knees for me.
“I guess you’re right.” I finish off the rest of my cider and pause the game. “Want me to grab you another beer?”
“Sure, thanks man.”
Dahlia grumbles in protest as I shift her off my lap to get up, but she’s been snuggling there for the last hour, so I don’t feel too bad about it. She sleepily moves over to Jackson, who plies her with praise and belly rubs.
My cheeks heat as I turn away from the heartwarming sight, and I attempt to blame my increased interest in Jackson tonight on the alcohol and missing Ambrose. Lingering in front of the open fridge for a few long seconds, I attempt to cool off before I return to the living room.
I should be better at this. I’ve had years to perfect my detachment from my attraction to Jackson. It’s not an issue because I value his friendship far more than any inconvenient lustful thoughts. Or at least it shouldn’t be.
“Hey, you okay in there?” Jackson calls from the couch, and I flinch, closing the refrigerator door too hard and making Dolly bark in alarm. “Shh, honey, it’s just River,” Jackson soothes.
Giving Jackson a direct pipeline into my emotions is going to be the death of me. “Yeah, I’m alright. Just, uh, was having a moment.”
I want to keep hiding in the kitchen, away from Jackson’s soft earl gray scent and inquisitive eyes, but I force myself back to the couch, setting down his bottle and immediately cracking open my can to take a sip.
He watches me, dark eyes far too insightful despite how often he pretends to be oblivious. Jackson isn’t stupid. He’s one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. He just set such an impossible standard for himself that he assumes that means he’s lacking.
“It’s okay to be having a hard time.” He says the words cautiously, like he’s doing his best not to spook me.
“I know.”