Chapter 11
DAKOTA
When I wake, I check my phone to see if Jack has messaged me again. Almost three days without contact has me feeling like somebody going through withdrawal. After the digital intimacy in the Cove, the ghosting felt like a real one-night stand, which has never been my thing.
There are no new messages, but his old one sits there. Asking me how I’ve been. Calling me attractive. My mind keeps going back to the Cove, my elf and his goblin in bed together, those sizzling words filling the screen and flooding my body with waves of heat.
In the shower—not once, but twice—I could not resist the urge to guide the shower head between my legs. I put the pressure on high and lean against the wall, imagining Jack’s body pressed against mine. Breathing hot in my ear, telling me all the sexy things in real life that he typed in the game.
Both times, I’ve felt silly and a little dangerous, as though I crossed a line I swore I wouldn’t. But it feels so good. So right.
This morning, I shoot a message back.
DakkyDuck: Sorry for the late reply, Jack. Streaming is going well. That’s great to hear about the Cove. I can’t wait to see more of the role-playing stuff! I hope you’re not working too hard. All the best!
After clicking send, I overanalyze the message. All the best? What is this, a corporate email?
I get changed and head to the gym. I’ve been trying to work out more lately, not for cosmetic reasons, but for general health. I don’t enjoy it when I’m doing it, but after, I normally feel pretty great. Today, as I’m leaving in my leggings and a tank top, drenched in sweat, a guy approaches me.
I’ve seen him a few times before. My age. Muscular. Tribal tattoos decorating his arms. Mara thinks he’s hot, but he’s not really my type. What is my type? Does he have to be called Jackson Cross and be the CEO of my favorite video game? Maybe.
“Uh, hi,” the man says.
“Hello,” I reply politely.
“Don’t want to be too forward, but I was wondering if I could get your number?” His cheeks redden slightly. “I think you’re beautiful and I’d love to get to know you more.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, trying to sound apologetic. “I have a boyfriend.”
“Ah, of course,” he says. “Lucky guy.”
“Thank you.”
During the drive home, I ask myself why I said that. I think it has something to do with not betraying Jackson. Which is nuts because A) we’re not in a relationship and B) there’s a small but real chance this isn’t even Jackson Cross.
Later, when I meet Mara for coffee, she looks at me like I’m crazy when I say that. “So, you think the announcement when he said your name was a coincidence? And he just magically has access to a different version of the level in his own game?”
“Until I’m face-to-face with him,” I say. “I’m not assuming anything.”
A nasty thought hits me. Not for the first time, but I won’t say it aloud. I haven’t been able to find any mention of what Jackson told me online. Nothing about his mother anywhere. Would a person lie about that? Or maybe the story belongs to someone else, the mystery man behind TheRealCreator.
I excuse myself and go to the restroom. Scrolling while using the bathroom is probably a bad habit, but I do it anyway. An email pops up on my screen.
You Are Cordially Invited…
I open it, my mouth falling open, disbelief gripping me.
Halcyon is hosting a special graphics showcase, and they’ve invited streamers, graphics specialists, and business owners.
“This just proves it,” Mara says when I return and show her my phone.
“You think it has to be Jackson?”
“Hello.” She waves the email in front of my face. “It says right here, this is a last-minute decision. He wants you there, Dakky.”
“He told me he has to be careful. If people know he’s pursuing me, it could make him look bad.”
“Do you disagree?” Mara asks, lips pursed.
“How can I? Most people would think I’m some starstruck, na?ve girl, drooling over the creator of my favorite video game.”
“Starstruck, na?ve,” Mara mutters, shaking her head. “You can’t stream for almost ten years and stay na?ve. And you don’t seem starstruck.”
“Maybe I will in person,” I murmur. “But it’s not like I’ve ever been star-crazy for anyone, not even him. Sure, I might’ve thought, he’s hot, from time to time. And I took an interest in him because of the game. But I’m not really a celebrity girlie.”
Mara nods in agreement. “But you don’t want to sneak around?”
She can always read me so well. “What if there are other girls? What if he’s saying this to all of us? Keep it secret. I have to be careful.”
“It does sound like the sort of thing billionaire CEOs do,” Mara says.
“But, the way I see it, it’s win-win. Either he’s telling the truth and you get a shot at, at the very least, having some fun.
Or he’s lying and you get an amazing opportunity for your career.
Maybe just try not to get attached too soon. ”
“Yeah, true,” I murmur, not sure if I should tell her I already am attached.
Before I start up my stream that evening, I message him.
DakkyDuck: Did you do this for me?
TheRealCreator: Yes.
I smile. He didn’t try to evade, to qualify. He didn’t even need to ask what I was talking about.
DakkyDuck: There are easier ways to meet someone in secret.
Heat runs up between my legs and up my spine. Spreading over my body. Words on a screen shouldn’t be able to make me feel like this. But they do.
TheRealCreator: I don’t want to meet you in a seedy way. We deserve to meet in public, not in some hotel where we have to sneak through the back door. I’m sorry it has to be like this, but at least I’ll be able to see you, Dakota, and speak to you. Touch you.
I swallow. The heat growing more intense. My underwear has suddenly become a makeshift torture device, rubbing against my clit. I almost run toward the shower. Turn the pressure up hot and blast myself back to our cave in Emerald Cove.
DakkyDuck: It might be difficult to touch me in a room full of people.
TheRealCreator: I bet I can find a way. Give me your address, Dakota.
DakkyDuck: Why? Are you coming over?
After clicking send, I wish I could take the message back. Am I coming across as too keen? Desperate, even?
TheRealCreator: I can’t. All it takes is one photo. The world will think you’re trying to sleep your way to the top. And that I’m a cliched billionaire using his position to take what he wants.
DakkyDuck: Why do you want my address then?
TheRealCreator: I’m sending you something. What’s your dress size?
My throat threatens to close for a moment. I’ve got better self-esteem than most, I’d say. It takes a lot to be on stream for hours on end, being endlessly critiqued. But something about this makes me hesitate.
Another two messages come through and one is his phone number!
TheRealCreator: This is my personal number xxx-xxx-xxx. Text me if you need anything before the big day.
TheRealCreator: And if you’re feeling bad for even a moment, you better stop right this second. Otherwise, it’ll be more than touching on Friday, beautiful. I’ll have to spank that thick, perfect ass, so you know how wrong it is to doubt how perfect you are.
A smile spreads across my face. I rub my legs together, relieving some of the tension there in the least satisfying way possible. It just makes me wish he were here even harder.
I send a message with my dress size, then add.
DakkyDuck: You’re not going to put me in some super short dress or something silly, are you?
TheRealCreator: I’d be setting myself up for disaster if I did that.
You’re there so I can eye-fuck you, nobody else.
I’m trying to avoid a PR nightmare. If I saw another man ogling you, it’d be game over.
Bye-bye, company. I doubt anybody would want to work with me after I throw a man through a window.
I laugh, knowing I should resent this at least a little bit. He doesn’t own me. What right does he have to say things like that?
But I like it, probably more than I should.