Chapter 32
Tate
They give us twenty minutes, which isn’t enough time to come down from the last match.
The player lounge is crowded, I hate it.
I grab two bottles from the cooler and toss one toward Haven the second she walks in. She twists the cap off and takes a long drink.
I lean back against the counter, watching her over the rim of my bottle.
A few players pass behind us, their attention lingering longer than it should. Some of them nod at her, some at me, some whisper just quietly enough to pretend they aren’t. Neither of us reacts. There’s no reason to.
“You nervous?” I ask, keeping my tone even, like the answer doesn’t matter.
She lets out a soft breath that almost turns into a laugh, shaking her head as she glances down at the bottle in her hands before looking back at me. “No. Not about the game.”
I push off the counter and step closer, not enough to crowd her, just enough that the noise around us dulls slightly at the edges. “Good,” I say quietly. “Because I’m not going easy on you.”
Her mouth curves just a little at that, something quick and real. “I’d be pissed if you did.”
A few players pass behind us. One of them, a kid from a lower bracket I beat earlier, pauses, glancing at Haven like he’s trying to process the fact that she’s standing right there. Another older, more seasoned player gives me a polite nod, his lips twitching like he wants to say more but doesn’t.
A kid from another team sidles closer, trying to sound casual. “Hey… good match out there,” he says, nodding at both of us. “Really… uh… impressive.”
I shrug, taking a slow sip. “Thanks.” My eyes stay glued to Haven. She gives him a polite, almost bored smile before turning back to me.
Another player, a girl with neon-green hair and a tattoo sleeve, laughs as she passes by, shaking her head at the energy in the room. “You two always like this before a break? Or is this… tension?”
Haven chuckles softly. “Something like that,” she says, and it’s enough to shut down curiosity without being rude.
I lean closer to her, lowering my voice. “You know, they don’t need to know what we’re thinking. Or how we’re feeling.”
She tilts her head, that small smirk tugging at her lips. “Good thing, too. Otherwise, you’d never hear the end of it.” She twists the cap back on her bottle and sets it down. “Let’s get something small to eat, we’re gonna need it.”
I toss her a half-grin. “Lead the way.”
As we move toward the snack table, a few other players glance at us. Haven stays at my side, and for the first time in the day, it feels like we can just exist here for twenty minutes, in control, unbothered, untouchable.
Carter’s voice comes through a second later, calm and grounding. “You two okay?”
I glance toward the viewing room above the lounge and see him leaning against the railing.
Haven nods. “Better than okay. Just fueling up.”
I smirk back at her. “Then let’s eat. And then we finish what we started.”
There’s a guy from one of the earlier brackets who works up the nerve to approach us, his posture awkward but trying not to be. He throws a glance between us like he’s stepping into something he doesn’t fully understand.
“That last round was insane,” he says, directing it at both of us but looking at her more than me. “Seriously.”
Haven gives him a polite smile, easy and unforced. “Thanks.”
He lingers for a second too long, like he’s considering pushing further, but something in the space between us must shift because he thinks better of it. He nods once and moves on.
I glance back at her. “You attract idiots everywhere, or just here?”
She bumps my arm lightly with her bottle, not even looking at me when she answers. “You’re here, aren’t you?”
That pulls a quiet grin out of me before I can stop it. “Yeah, but I’m your favorite problem.”
An announcement cuts through the room letting everyone know there’s five minutes left. The shift in the room is immediate, conversations taper off.
Haven rolls her shoulders and starts heading back to the floor. “I’ll see you out there,”
“Yeah,” I answer, stepping back just enough to let her pass. “You will.”
She moves past me, close enough that her fingers brush mine for half a second.
The lights feel hotter than usual, the crowd louder, even the countdown feels slower.
It’s the last match of the tournament and I’m staring across the stage at her.
She has her hair tied up, her fingers flexing over the keys like she’s got the next dozen moves mapped out. There’s a fire in her eyes I’ve never seen—not like this.
I swear to God, I’ve never wanted to lose to someone so badly in my fucking life. I flex my fingers, crack my neck and crank the volume.
This is it.
I don’t move right away when everything loads in.
The crowd is loud enough to bleed through the headset, the commentators talking over each other as the chat spikes hard enough to feel like pressure behind my eyes, but none of it reaches where it needs to. It all sits at the edges while I focus on the one thing that actually matters.
I flex my fingers slowly over the keys, grounding myself in something familiar before the match starts. The setup hasn’t changed, the controls haven’t changed. The rhythm is still there, waiting for me to fall into it the second the timer hits zero. But this isn’t the same.
I glance across the stage once, not long enough to break focus but long enough to see her locked in.
She isn’t looking around, isn’t reacting to the noise or the lights or the fact that every eye in the room is on her.
She’s exactly where she needs to be, like everything else stopped existing the second she sat down.
A slow grin pulls at my mouth beneath the mask. I don’t want hesitation. I don’t want her second-guessing a single move just because I’m the one on the other side of it. I want her sharp, I want her relentless. I want every decision she makes to come from the same place mine will.
The timer ticks down, each second stretching just enough to settle everything into place.
Three.
Two.
One.
The screen flashes. Match: HavenHexed vs. NoOneGhost.
The entire Twitch chat explodes.
“No way it ends like this.’
“Enemies to lovers to rivals again?”
“Is he gonna let her win orrrrr…”
They don’t get it. I’m not letting her do shit, my angel is going to earn it.
The match kicks off and we dive in. We stalk each other across the map shadows. I cut through corners she thought were safe, fire shots just to see how fast she reacts. She drops traps, smokes me out, plays smart—and dirty.
I fucking love her for it. Every time I take a point, she grabs one back. Every time I pin her, she breaks free. Every time I push her to the edge, she climbs over it. And fuck if that doesn’t turn me on more than it should. Final round. Match point.
We both pause for half a second at the top of the map, opposite ends of a sniper nest. It’s just us. No backup. No noise in our ears but the rush of blood and the hum of the fans roaring behind us.
She sees me. I see her. And right before she fires—she smiles. The bullet lands a headshot.
Match Over. Winner: HavenHexed .
The kill cam replays in slow motion. Her aim doesn’t waver, her hands are steady. She watches me drop without blinking. I lean forward, grin widening behind the mask. That’s my girl.
My screen fades, the colors blur and all I can do is lean back in my chair and laugh.
Goddamn. She beat me. She actually fucking beat me. I rip off my headset and stand, my mask still covering my face but my grin stretching beneath it.
She turns toward me, breathless, sweaty, victorious and fuck if that isn’t the best she’s ever looked.
I walk right up to her. Close enough for only her to hear it. “That win looks so good on you, pretty girl.”
She blinks and then beams. Atta girl angel.
For a moment, the noise doesn’t hit all at once.
The crowd rises in waves, voices stacking over each other until it turns into something almost physical, something that presses in from every direction. Lights flash, screens shift and people start moving.
She’s standing in the middle of it like she hasn’t fully caught up yet.
I stay where I am and watch her take it in, because this part matters more than anything that comes after. The second right after the win, when it’s still settling into her system, when it still feels unreal enough that she has to process it piece by piece.
Her hands are still trembling slightly at her sides. Her chest rises and falls a little too fast. Her eyes move across the crowd like she’s trying to take all of it in at once and doesn’t know where to land.
Staff start moving in at the edges, slow at first, like they’re testing how close they can get before breaking whatever moment she’s in. I shift my weight slightly, just enough to place myself between her and the first wave without making it obvious.
I know what’s coming next, and I’m not about to let it hit her all at once without something steady in reach.
She was better and she earned every second of it.
People are on their feet, screaming. And chanting her name. Twitch chat’s going feral and confetti drops from the rafters like the universe itself is crowning her.
She finally whips her headset off just as Carter barrels toward her, coming from the side of the stage where he’s been watching like his life depended on it. I let him go first, he deserves that.
He’s the soft place she lands, the calm after the fire. I’m the part that burns everything down to clear the way. He wraps her up in his arms, lifting her clean off her feet, spinning her once with a laugh that sounds like he’s been holding his breath since the match started.
I walk towards them slower because I know what’s coming.
The swarm. People start rushing in from the edges. Tournament staff, other players, twitch reps and fans. The whole machine kicking into high gear. And almost immediately, the comments start.
“Did he throw it?”
“Dude didn’t even fight back at the end.”
“Can’t believe NoOneGhost went soft for some pussy.”