Chapter 2 #2
“Hi,” one of the two Asian guys on the team said, getting up from where he’d been getting his ink-black hair tweaked into the perfectly messy style that artfully hung over one of his pretty green eyes—which I realized were actually contacts when he drew closer.
“I’m Torin. We’ve been dying to meet you, but Xavier’s right, dude…
you’re tiny. And pretty. You have really delicate, kind of feminine features. ”
My brows shot up before I could catch myself, and the small sound that escaped me could hopefully be interpreted as irritation rather than panic. Mentally, I recited my notes to calm my nerves.
Torin Mura. Twenty-three years old. Six foot three. Japanese father, Irish mother, raised in Vancouver, Canada. Artist. Best known for overtly sexual, borderline pornographic pottery videos.
“It’s not the insult it might seem,” someone else drawled, and I needed to look past Torin to find who was talking. “He’s just jealous.”
Good god. Minho Park was gorgeous. He was standing patiently while a stylist messed with the decorative belts looped around his slim waist, but his dark eyes were on me with curiosity.
During the months since I’d agreed to join Team Olympus, I’d done my research on all my teammates, as well as potential competition…but even I could admit I’d watched a whole lot of Minho Park content that was entirely for pleasure and not research.
Minho Park. New recruit. Twenty-three. Six foot two.
Born and raised in Los Angeles but spent six years in South Korea as a part of 1-4-3 before a sex scandal disbanded the group.
Now he was a top ClikByter, doing insanely gorgeous dance videos, often with special effects like fire and swords.
Drool. Also a global brand ambassador for Portia Levigne Couture.
“It’s true,” Torin agreed with an exaggerated sigh, pulling my attention back to him.
“Gender neutral fashion is a massive industry right now, and all of this will never snag one of those sweet luxury brand deals.” He gestured to his face, and I couldn’t help smiling.
He was right… Unlike Minho—and me—there was no way in hell Torin Mura would ever pass as even the slightest bit feminine.
Jared had been quietly hovering behind me, letting me take the lead in meeting the team, but when his phone buzzed, he gave my arm a quick squeeze and gestured that he was stepping out of the room.
Torin narrowed his eyes, watching Jared leave. “Your manager?” he asked when the door closed.
I jerked a nod. “Yep.” I didn’t elaborate. Getting chatty would trip me up. I could just sense it.
“Torin, quit being so needy,” another of the team teased, slinging his arm around Torin’s shoulders. “You haven’t introduced the rest of us. Hi, Short Stack, I’m—”
“August,” I cut him off, suddenly nervous and impatient without Jared at my back. “I know. I did my research on all of you.”
August Gamble. Also a new recruit. Twenty-two. Six foot one. Brown hair, brown eyes. Born in Sao Paolo, Brazil, but raised in Miami. Trickshot marksman and illusionist on ClikByte.
I glanced over to the one remaining team member who hadn’t even tried to introduce himself. “And you must be SkyeHigh…my copycat.”
Skye Smith. Twenty years old. Five foot eleven. Blond hair, blue eyes. Australian. Doesn’t have a single ounce of originality in his whole body and yet somehow Clikers love him anyway.
The scruffy, sexy blond guy I spoke to just smirked. “No such thing as original ideas these days, NoFear, just better ways to do it.”
I scoffed, outrage burning in my chest at the sheer audacity of this douchebag and his infuriatingly appealing Australian accent.
Insults burned on the tip of my tongue, but Jared stepped back into the green room then and I swallowed it down.
Starting fights with my new team less than five minutes after meeting them probably wasn’t wise.
“Two-minute warning!” a crew member called out, and one of the makeup artists politely moved Torin and August out of the way so she could dab my face with translucent powder.
It gave me a moment to breathe, as everyone became busy ensuring they were ready to go on camera rather than stare at me like an exotic animal in an enclosure.
Ace drifted over while the makeup artist did her thing to ensure I didn’t glow under stage lights, but he didn’t immediately speak. Instead he just stood there with his arms folded and a thoughtful look on his face.
When the crew started ushering the team out of the green room, I met Ace’s eyes and lifted a brow. “Something wrong, boss?”
His head tilted and he ran his tongue over his teeth. “You tell me, Noah.” Shit. Had he…somehow figured me out already? How, though? I’d barely said a word and— “Am I going to have problems between you and Skye? We’re a team, Noah. That means we work together.”
Oh. Ohhhh. I huffed a small exhale. “No problems here, just don’t expect us to be best friends when he’s literally built his platform on copying mine. Badly, too, I might add.” Ace gave me a hard glare, and Jared subtly poked me in the back. I sighed and rolled my eyes. “I’ll behave.”
Ace’s glare shifted into a smile. “Good. Now, let’s go break the internet with your face reveal.” He clapped me on the shoulder and steered me out into the hall where the rest of the team were already heading. “Shit, bro, you really are short as fuck.”