Chapter 19
Tate
Couple days blur by before I even notice. Same grind, same rhythm, same result. I win. Again.
Fourth match of the bracket, and I barely break a sweat. My kill-death ratio’s disgusting, accuracy still sharp. I lean back in the chair, the glow from the screen washing over the living room.
The noise in my headset fades out to static as the match ends.
Haven’s been quieter, almost off. She says it’s the tournament stress, that it’s just a lot all at once. Carter keeps saying the same thing: “She’s fine, man. It’s just the pressure.”
But it doesn’t feel like pressure. It almost feels like distance. I know that all too well.
I haven’t spent the night in her room since that night. Carter has. Every night, actually. I don’t bring it up, don’t want to sound like I’m keeping fucking score.
I tell myself it’s fine, that she needs calm and Carter’s better at calm.
Still, something’s been gnawing at me. I keep catching myself drifting toward her door after late night matches, hand hesitating near the handle before I pull away. I tell myself I just need to grab something but it’s a lie.
So I stay in the glow of the monitor instead. Easier to stare at the cross hairs than think about what I’ve been avoiding. Easier to keep winning when I can’t figure out if I’m losing something else.
The other team logs off before the final scoreboard even posts. Pussies. Chat’s losing it, half calling hacks, half begging for my settings.
[kill_glow]: nooneghost is actually UNTOUCHABLE rn
[revenge.exe]: do u think haven and ghost are actually… yk???
[gh0stgroupie]: if this is a weird PR stunt I want in.
My mask is on, and I haven’t said a damn thing yet. Which is exactly what keeps them losing their minds. I let the silence drag a little longer, just enough for chat to start begging.
“You guys always this curious, or is it just me?” The comment section explodes.
[bit3me]: OH MY GODDDD
[sweatlord1997]: STOP THAT VOICE
[clipthisfast]: what the fuck did he mean by that
[angelspawnx]: Haven’s never standing again confirmed.
[shut_up_dan]: I bet he ties knots for fun.
Not wrong. I lean into the mic just slightly, letting my fingers hover over the keyboard while my voice drops again. “You want answers? You’ll have to earn ‘em.”
I don’t clarify, because the truth is they don’t need confirmation. I speak loud enough. In the way I play beside her, the way my character always fucking flanks left while hers pushes forward. In the way I use her name when no one else gets to. My single favorite fucking word.
I log off the stream but before I even make it to the bathroom, I pause just for a second and touch the edge of the mask.
It’s not just a prop, it’s the thing that kept people out when I didn’t know how to let anyone in.
I catch my reflection in the mirror, eyes shadowed under the hard curve of black and red neon.
The angle of my jaw sharper under the weight of silence.
I look unbothered. Untouchable. But underneath, I’m fucking spinning.
I don’t let myself think about it too long. The second I yank it off and toss it on the bathroom counter, I hear her voice from down the hall. She heard that stream. I know she did. Half of me wants to see if she’ll actually do something about it. Something about that makes me feel almost naked.
“What the actual fuck?”
A smirk pulls at the corner of my mouth as I rinse my hands and flick water at the mirror.
My pretty girl’s gonna learn to speak up when something’s on her mind. I walk past her door, and of course Carter’s there. “You good?”
She mutters something like your brother is a fucking menace, and I don’t bother pretending not to hear it. Yeah, she’s mad.
But her voice is tight in that way that means she’s also turned on and spiraling about it. Good.
I hope she doesn’t cool off anytime soon. I want her stewing in it. I want it echoing in her ears while she replays it on loop, while she thinks about what it felt like the last time I had her pinned under me, whispering in her ear with that same exact tone.
I’m halfway to the kitchen when I hear her door yank open. Haven storms past me without a glance, bare feet slapping against the floor. She reaches the door just as there’s a knock, and when she swings it open, I slow to a stop, it’s the best friend. And a dude. Great.
They spill into the apartment like it’s the most normal thing in the world. I stay back, shoulder to the wall, arms crossed.
Carter shows up from the hallway, all easy smiles and good timing. “Hey—didn’t know we were having company.”
“Cassie brought lunch,” Haven says, moving toward the counter.
Carter gives her that soft grin that makes everyone relax a little. “Perfect. I was just about to ask what you wanted to eat.”
Of course he was. Golden boy move number one: feed everyone, win the room.
The guy—whatever his name is—finally looks at me. “Uh, hey, man.”
I nod once, just enough to be polite. He hesitates, like he’s waiting for me to say more, but I don’t
The dude shifts his weight, glancing at Carter again like he’s the safe one here. Smart of him.
I nod again at the guy. “You good?”
He hesitates, like he’s not sure if I’m joking. “Uh… yeah?”
Cassie laughs. “Oh my God, don’t freak him out. He’s normal.”
“I’m normal,” I say, deadpan.
Carter doesn’t miss a beat. “No, you’re not.”
Haven snorts, grabbing a water from the counter and passing one to Cassie. “It’s okay. Tate’s being… tame.”
I tilt my head, watching her. “For now.”
She smirks, that little spark in her eyes lighting up. “Yeah. For now.”
Cassie groans. “God, I forgot how weird you three are.”
“Comfortably weird,” Haven corrects, and the way she smiles at us makes me forget, just for a second, that I was the one standing off to the side.
We end up in the living room—Haven on the couch between Carter and Cassie, me in one of the recliners, James in the other. Cassie’s mid-rant about some coworker, I tune them out halfway through letting my focus drift to Haven.
Haven glances at Cassie. “So, how long do you think it’ll take James to realize that Tate is NoOneGhost?”
James frowns. “What do you mean—” He stops mid-sentence, eyes going wide as he looks at me. “Wait. Wait. No way. You’re—”
I raise a brow. “Depends. What am I?”
“NoOneGhost?” he blurts, voice cracking halfway through the name.
Carter bursts out laughing. Haven covers her mouth. Cassie groans, dropping her head into her hands.
“Cass,” James says, turning on her, “you knew? You knew and didn’t tell me?”
“I told you not to freak out when Haven told you something today!” she fires back.
“I’m not freaking out—”
“You are,” Haven cuts in, still grinning.
I lean back, arms crossed. “Guess that answers your question.”
James laughs nervously, still staring like he’s not sure I’m real. “Man, this is—holy shit, this is insane. You’re like—top three in the bracket right now.”
I shrug. “Sometimes, but breathe before you pass out, fanboy.”
He laughs awkwardly, still red-faced, and glances at Cassie. “Yeah… we should probably get going,”pushing to his feet.
Cassie stands too, giving Haven a quick hug before heading for the door. “I’ll text you later, okay?” she says, smiling. Then she waves over her shoulder. “Later, guys!”
Haven stretches, brushing her hair from her eyes. “I’m gonna go check a few emails and take another look at the leader boards,” she says, heading down the hall.
“Don’t work too hard beautiful.”
God, sometimes I wish my brother would shut up.
She gives a small wave without turning around. A moment later, her chair creaks, followed by the soft clack of her mouse filling the empty space.
I lean back in the recliner letting the quiet settle around me I can actually think again.
A full ten minutes go by before I wander down the hall, pausing in her doorway. She’s leaning back in her gaming chair, one leg tucked under her.
“You gonna keep pretending that didn’t turn you on?”
“Don’t know what you mean,” she says, not looking at me.
“Liar.”
I step inside, and close the door behind me. Her shoulders tense just enough that I see it. She’s bracing, She likes bracing. I drop into a crouch in front of her, reach into my hoodie pocket, and pull out the red paracord I grabbed from my bag earlier. Her eyes land on it instantly.
“Still think I was bluffing about the rope?”
“No,” she whispers.
“Good.” I set it on her desk. “You scared?”
She shakes her head, but her thighs press tighter together.
I sit at the edge of her bed, legs spread, and guide her to stand between them. My hands find her arms first. I trace slow lines from her shoulders down to her wrists, letting my knuckles drag over her skin, light enough to make her shiver.
can feel her pulse through my fingertips.
This—this is the part I love. The pause before the rope, the quiet charge that builds under her skin and mine.
I haven’t done this much, definitely nothing like this—but I’ve thought about it.
More times than I’ll ever admit. Ever since that night she asked me to take my mask off, made me see her while she came apart riding me. Fuck.
Now, she’s here again, trusting me with something even more dangerous than her body.
I let my fingers trail over her wrists, memorizing the shape of them, the warmth. “You know the rule,” I say, looping the first rope around her wrist. “You tell me if anything’s too much.”
She nods.
I give her a look. “Words, angel.”
“Yes,” she breathes. “I promise.”
The first knot is loose. Not sloppy, just a soft hold. More symbolism than restriction. The second wrist takes longer. I wrap her with slow, smooth loops around her skin, keeping her arms behind her, watching the way her chest rises with every pass of the rope.
Once her arms are secure behind her, I shift closer, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “You’re so damn good at this,” I whisper. “Letting go.”
She makes a sound in her throat.