Chapter 12
NOAH
When the teamwork challenge twist was announced, I quite honestly had zero faith in Team Olympus.
Except Skye, who I really thought would be fine to do the course blindfolded—and he’d failed spectacularly.
August was a surprise, but then when I thought about what kind of body control and focus he needed as a marksman, it checked out.
So after running everyone through the high-wire course, it was decided that August and I—having the best balance while blind—would wear the blindfolds, then Skye and Minho would wear earmuffs, while Torin and Z would be gagged.
That left Ace and Xavier with the responsibility of overseeing and guiding the rest of the team through the course.
The guys were right that we had a heap of time to practice. A whole month was unexpected, but not unwelcome, except for the fact that we still had a responsibility to maintain or even grow our follower count in anticipation of posting our entry Byte.
For that very reason, I’d let Skye wake me up before dawn so we could go rock climbing with his tracking-drone camera. Surprisingly, Minho and Z had joined us at the last minute and proven they were more than capable of keeping up.
When we arrived home in the early evening, the four of us were all buzzing with energy and joking around as Z read aloud the newest comments on our Byte.
He and Skye had done lightning-fast editing on the drive home, and we’d already posted a collaborative Byte between the four of us, with Team Olympus tagged as our contracts demanded.
The new followers were flooding in as our individual audiences crossed over, and the comments were their own form of entertainment.
Every now and then, Z would pause and wrinkle his nose ever so slightly before moving onto a new comment. Undoubtedly, he was skipping the shitty ones.
“Looks like you guys had a nice day,” Xavier commented as we entered the kitchen-living area. He was leaning over the counter with a huge, hardcover recipe book open in front of him, which suggested maybe he was planning on cooking dinner. Yikes. “Where was my invitation?”
Z scoffed, tucking his phone back in his pocket. “Dude, you and Ace were so deep asleep a tornado wouldn’t have woken you. Minnie and I only caught these two sneaking out at five a.m. because Skye tripped over the robo-vac right outside our room and Noah started laughing at him.”
“What are you thinking of cooking?” I asked as casually as possible, reaching over the counter to tug the cookbook toward me.
Xavier’s eyes narrowed my way, not fooled. “Carbonara. Why?”
I ran my tongue over my teeth, then glanced sideways at Minho, who’d just draped his arm over my shoulders.
“We grabbed tacos on the way home,” he smoothly explained. “So none of us are really hungry.”
“Yeah, what he said,” Skye agreed, never mind that his hand was already buried in a packet of white cheddar PopCorners. “Not hungry at all.” Then he stuffed a handful of triangle chips in his mouth.
Xavier rolled his eyes, seeing straight through us even when Z nodded his agreement. “You guys suck. At least I’m trying.”
“Trying to give us all food poisoning,” Z muttered under his breath but loud enough to be heard by all of us, Xavier included, who extended both his middle fingers at us and muttered something about ungrateful dickheads before stalking out of the kitchen.
None of the guys seemed worried about hurting Xavier’s feelings, all grinning as he stomped his way upstairs. Once Xavier’s door slammed shut, Z pulled out his phone once more. “So… tacos? I’ll order for delivery.”
“Yes,” I groaned, rubbing my stomach, “I’m starving. Spicy beef, please.”
“You got it, dude.” Z’s thumbs flew across his screen as he took everyone’s orders then wrinkled his nose. “Suppose we better order for everyone. Can someone go ask Ace? He’ll be in his office reviewing the final cut of our new episode.”
Ah, the Mount Olympus episode. My first one.
It was all the footage they’d filmed in those first few days in the house.
Since then, I’d noticed a huge lack of cameramen and producers in the house.
More static mounted cameras, yes, but I’d always rather those than Roy and his friends with their probing questions.
I’d been meaning to ask Ace if that was done for any specific reason.
“Yup, I will,” I offered, slipping out from under Minho’s arm. “Are Tor and Augie home?”
“I’ll check their location,” Skye offered, pulling out his own phone. The whole team shared their location data with each other for several reasons, not the least of which being for safety in case an extra zealous fan decided to cross lines and harm one of us.
It was a sobering thought.
I left them to work out what everyone else wanted and made my way up to Ace’s office, tapping lightly on the door before letting myself in without waiting for his response. I’d spent enough time in there planning our teamwork challenge that it was as comfortable as my own room at this stage.
“Hey, Ace,” I said, perching my butt on the arm of his sofa.
He glanced back at me, eyes bloodshot and shadowed. “Hey, Eight,” he replied with a weak, tired smile. “How’s your ankle?”
I frowned, rolling the ankle in question. “How’d you know I hurt it? Did the guys—”
“I saw it on your Byte,” he corrected before I could gather outrage at being tattled on.
He switched browser windows and brought up the fast-paced climbing and rappelling Byte we’d only posted half an hour ago.
Then he clicked through to an exact time stamp and played it at half speed, showing the exact moment I rolled my ankle on a bad foothold about ten feet from the top of the cliff.
I caught myself just fine, but he paused the clip, rewound it, played it again slower and zoomed in.
I winced, watching my ankle roll in slow motion. “Nothing gets past you, huh?”
“Nope, I thought you knew that by now,” he replied with a worn-out smile, spinning his chair to face me and gesturing for my ankle. “Show me.”
Blowing out a sigh, I raised my leg and let him take my foot in his lap as he lifted the leg of my sweatpants and tugged my sock down. He was silent as he inspected the compression bandage that was currently supporting the joint.
“Minho’s handiwork?” he guessed, cocking a brow.
I nodded. “Yep. It wasn’t even necessary. I was fine to walk on it once we got to the top.”
Ace scoffed, his long fingers wrapped around my injured ankle. “Liar. It was a smart move cutting to the GoPro footage, but I caught your pained little hop as Skye rigged up the ropes, too.”
“Damn,” I murmured. “Well…it’s fine now. I forgot all about it until you asked.”
“Regardless, you’re not going to the ropes course tomorrow.” Ace said it with finality, and I gaped in outrage.
“But I need—”
“To rest your ankle so you don’t fall off the high wires when we’re ten stories above a crowd of three thousand people,” he cut me off with a stern look. “You can have a rest day here while the team practices. Go to the beach or something.”
I wrinkled my nose in distaste. “I’m not a fan of water I can drown in,” I confessed with an edge of anxiety.
Ace tipped his head, eyeing me with curiosity. “Why not? Have you had a bad experience?”
Fucking hell, didn’t I just make the comment about nothing getting past him? He was way too damn observant for his own good. I blew out a long sigh, retracting my foot from his lap and fixing my sock. “Something like that, yeah.”
Ace said nothing to change the subject or fill the silence. Just stared at me, waiting.
With a frustrated growl, I offered just a little more context. “I was in a car accident a few years ago and crashed into a river. I… drowned, I guess.”
His brow creased with confusion or…concern? Something. “But you got out. Clearly.”
I shrugged. “Somehow, I must have. I don’t remember anything about it or the hours leading up to it, but I was in a coma for a few days and apparently that’s normal.
I don’t actually remember the accident, but whenever I’m fully submerged in water…
” I shuddered, a full-body quiver. “I guess part of me remembers.”
Ace was quiet for a moment, long enough that I could feel he wanted to ask more questions, but it was one of my least favorite topics so I quickly stood up again. “Anyway, Z’s ordering tacos. I came to see what you wanted.”
He gave me another puzzled frown, then sighed. “Yeah, tell him to order my usual. Thanks, Eight. Did you want to review the Mount Olympus episode before I approve it?”
I shook my head, giving a small laugh. “Nope. Pretty sure my contract doesn’t give me any kind of veto rights anyway, so what’s the point?”
Before he could argue that fact—which was entirely true—I slipped out of his office and headed next door to ask Xavier what he wanted. Sure, we just lied to him, but at the same time it’d be even worse if we excluded him from the order. Except, his door was locked.
“Xavier, do you want tacos? Z’s ordering,” I called out.
For a moment, there was no response. Then a mumbled, “Yeah, whatever, be down soon.” Which was clearly a please fuck off, I’m busy.
Shrugging, I left him alone and returned back downstairs to pass along Ace’s order. When I mentioned Xavier’s door being locked, Z and Minho exchanged a smirk.
“What…does that mean?” I asked suspiciously.
Minho gestured for me to join them on the sofa where they were all sprawled out, watching Skye get his butt kicked by August in Tekken.
Somehow in the ten days since I’d moved in, they’d all systematically desensitized me to casually affectionate touches to the point my pulse only slightly raced when I sat on the carpet and Minho raked his fingers through my messy hair.
“It means he’s letting off a little steam,” Minnie explained delicately, the amusement undeniable in his voice. “At least he had the grace to lock the door this time.”
The other guys all snickered at that, and my face heated. There was no denying the fact I was probably turning bright pink, so I just tried to ignore it.
“Xavier has an, um, what would you call it?” Z snapped his fingers, searching for the right phrasing.
“Obsession,” August offered.
“Addiction,” Skye corrected.
“Infatuation,” Z settled on with a wicked grin.
I frowned, not understanding why they were all so entertained. “He’s got a girlfriend? Or boyfriend?”
Torin laughed so abruptly while taking a sip of his drink that liquid came out his nose and he spluttered dramatically. August grinned, slapping him on the back helpfully.
“I don’t think you can call her a girlfriend when it’s a paid subscription,” August informed me with a sly grin and a wink. That’s when the penny dropped in my head and a cold sweat broke out across my skin, my stomach cramping with dread and disgust.
“ClikByte: Adults Only?” I guessed in a weak voice, desperately hoping they would correct me. Clearly this was a subject of mirth for them all, and their amused smiles gave me chills.
“In his defense,” Z replied with a shrug, “it’s only one creator he’s subscribed to. Or was. Her profile got deleted a couple months ago and he’s basically turned into an amateur sleuth trying to track her down again.”
Minho snickered. “More like a stalker. Maybe she deleted the profile herself because the so-called fans were getting too creepy.”
Fucking hell, I was going to vomit. Surely this was just a coincidence? Right?
“Who…” My voice cracked, and I swallowed past the lump of panic in my throat. “Who was the creator?”
“Peaches,” both August and Skye replied at the same time, shooting each other a smirk at their accidental jinx.
My whole fucking world tilted, and my pulse roared in my ears. I was past the need to vomit and hurtling straight toward a panic attack. Or passing out. Neither could be easily explained so I needed to not be here!
“Chicken, are you okay?” Minho asked with a worried frown, shifting to peer at me more intently. “You’re really pale.”
No shit. “I’m fine,” I lied. “I’m just cold. I’m going to go grab a sweater.”
“Take mine,” Z offered, already shrugging out of his zip-up hoodie even as I lurched to my feet.
I ignored him, already trying to flee the room with my heart in my throat and my skin crawling with terror and dread and an unbearable load of regret.
It was so fucking stupid of me to think I’d left Rich’s betrayal in my past, like the internet wasn’t forever.
Just because I’d gotten the profile deleted and Rich’s hands tied up in legal repercussions didn’t mean it was gone from people’s minds.
“Whoa!” Xavier exclaimed when I ran straight into him as he entered the room. “Watch where you’re going, Little Dude.” He grasped my upper arms to steady me, but I recoiled from his touch with anger flooding my veins.
A million and one things crowded into my head all at once, and I lost all sense of sanity for a moment, my eyes narrowing at him in disgust. “Leave her alone, Xavier! Did it ever occur to you that Peaches doesn’t want you to find her? Fucking hell, what is wrong with you?”
His brows shot up, his expression a mix of confusion and shock for a moment before he connected the dots to presumably guess the guys had filled me in on his obsession.
“Okay, Little Dude, you legitimately don’t know what you’re talking about.
These dickheads talk a lot of shit, but I bet they totally misrepresented what’s actually going on. ”
Indignation choked me and I made a strangled sort of sound. “I promise you, I know more than you realize.”
Xavier’s posture relaxed and he folded his arms with a lopsided smile, like I was being cute. “Oh yeah? Like what?”
I saw red but retained just enough clarity not to completely expose myself as I lost my shit. “Like the fact that Peaches never consented to any of those images or Bytes being uploaded and that the profile was deleted when she sued the sleazebag who’d uploaded it all in the first place!”
Xavier stared back at me for a moment, then chuckled. “As if. The amount of identity clearance on regular ClikByte is insane, there’s no way AO is any less strict. Do you know her or something?” His head tilted slightly to the side, curiosity burning in his hazel gaze.
I was so angry my hands shook, so I curled them into balls at my sides to try to hide my intense reaction—as if that were remotely possible at this stage. “Or something,” I growled, shoving past him and fleeing upstairs to my room.
Fuck the tacos—my appetite was officially gone.