Chapter 10
Lara
There are a few characters in Novel Haven who you can start a romantic relationship with.
You’ll recognize them by the pink heart next to their avatar.
My head is throbbing. I blink my bleary eyes, and when I rub them, it feels like there’s sand on my fingers.
Squinting, I can see little black mascara crumbs stuck to my skin.
I must have fallen asleep. After blinking once, then twice more, the stucco ceiling above me swims into focus, and a heartbeat later, my brain realizes where I am and what’s happened.
Crow Manor. The GameChanger preliminaries. My failure. The TikTok. Luca.
Luca.
It’s only now that I realize that the pressure I’m feeling on my waist isn’t from the duvet.
It’s him. My heart misses a beat, only to return at double speed.
We kissed. No, worse: I kissed him. He may have started it, but I didn’t stop.
I clung to him like a life jacket, like he was the only thing saving me.
I haven’t kissed anyone in forever. Especially not like that.
My face feels uncomfortably hot, but the rest of me throbs with desire.
Because, as uncharacteristic as the whole thing was for me, as much as it was helped along by my desperation—it was good.
Very good. So good that my entire body starts to tingle just thinking about it. Shit.
I hold my breath, cautiously lowering my arms so I don’t wake him, and instinctively check whether the long sleeves of my jumper are still in place—they are.
Carefully, I turn my head. Luca’s right next to me on the pillow.
His eyes are closed, and his chest rises and falls slowly.
I’m underneath the thick duvet; he’s on top of it.
He looks so peaceful when he’s sleeping.
Softer. It’s only now that I’m aware of the contrast that I realize there’s usually something guarded about him.
About his gaze, his posture. But now, all I can see is calm.
A warm shiver runs through me and pools in my stomach, alongside that blissful feeling of being a little less alone now, thanks to him.
Since the curtains are closed, I have no idea what time it is or how long I’ve been asleep.
After our kiss, I was adamant about not returning to the conference room.
Instead, I played the video on an endless loop—at least until Luca took my phone away from me.
He flicked through the commenters’ profiles, making up backstories for all of them, each more absurd than the last. Was it mean?
I suppose. Helpful? Definitely. It put a silly face on that anonymous, seething mass, and ultimately, it doesn’t matter whether Luca’s made-up stories are true or not—he managed to still my fears.
And I must have fallen asleep in the middle of one of his crazy stories, next to—no, under him.
Oh, God. I have to get out of here unseen.
I need to book a shuttle without anyone noticing and get back to London so I can fix what I’ve buggered up.
No idea how I’ll do that. I need to tell Sophia everything.
I’m sure she’s already seen the video; even Kamal sent me an encouraging text yesterday.
With a wink emoji—trying to be down with the kids and all that.
As I sit up gingerly, my eyes fall on my suitcase in the room’s half-light.
I haven’t unpacked much yet, fortunately, which means I only have to pack my laptop and toiletries.
I pull my phone out from under my pillow to check the time.
Two thirty in the afternoon. Right on cue, my stomach gives a loud rumble.
I’ve missed lunch, but my stomach will have to wait until I get to the Cambridge train station, for better or worse.
There’s no way I’m going to risk running into anybody here.
Luca makes a little grumbling noise as I try to slip out from under the duvet and get up. For a moment, I worry that I’ll wake him, but he seems to be a deep sleeper and I make it out of bed without another sound from him. As quietly as I can, I sneak into the bathroom.
My heart’s still hammering. I kissed Luca.
Worse, I shared a bed with him. With a stranger, basically!
I can already hear Nat’s and Aria’s excited squeals.
But this wasn’t supposed to happen. After yesterday, no one in the industry is ever going to take me seriously again, one way or another.
All I need is for people to start gossiping about me and another participant.
I dab a bit of concealer under my swollen eyes and stow my toiletries in their washbag. Then I tiptoe over to my suitcase to pack up the few of my things strewn around on the floor.
I zip my suitcase inch by inch, stopping every time Luca stirs.
I’d love to be the kind of grown-up, tough, self-confident woman who takes the gaming industry by storm and who can shrug off everything that happens with a sarcastic comment.
But that’s not who I am. Apart from my entire performance, I’m embarrassed that I let myself break down like that.
And in front of Luca too. He’s the only one at this event who hasn’t given me a single weird or pitying look.
I’m sure that’s changed now, though. How could it not have?
I’m a complete stranger to him; I’ve taken over his bed and cried all over the expensive silk pillows.
His kiss was probably just a gesture of pity.
With the way he looks, he’s got to be kissing people all the time.
But the way he looked at me . . . The sheer thought of his dark eyes, pupils wide, is enough to make heat rise to my cheeks.
No matter how good Luca’s touch felt though, I shouldn’t have kissed him. He’s my competitor. I’ve confirmed all the clichés out there that people like Shane have. I’ve hurt PixelPulse. I’ve hurt Sophia.
Anger boils up inside me again, and I tug the last few inches of the zipper closed with a loud rasp.
My gaze whips around to the bed, but all Luca does is roll over, and then the room is silent once again.
Phew. I grab my jacket from the wardrobe, slip into my sneakers, walk over to the door—and stop at the last second.
I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of Luca again, but just leaving like this .
. . ? I hastily tear off a sheet from the little notepad on the desk, printed with an outline of the estate.
The pen is heavy in my hand; its glinting gold matches the broad picture frames in the room.
Dear Luca, I begin, but then I shake my head, crumple up the piece of paper, and stuff it in my pocket. This isn’t a letter, just a short note.
Thanks for everything . . . I pause again, because that makes it sound like goodbye. Which it is, in a way. I won’t be getting through to the next round, nor will I let Sophia send me to an event ever again. I take a deep breath and keep on writing.
Thanks for everything. I’ve got my fingers crossed that you get the funding; you deserve it. Spit in Shane’s Guinness for me. Lara
There, that should do it, right? But instead of leaving the room, I stand there, rolling the pen back and forth in my hands.
Because apparently, I’m not just overly emotional but weak too.
Because there’s something inside me that wants to wait for Luca to wake up, that wants to make sure he can still look me in the eye without judgment.
But there’s a little voice inside me too, gloating over how badly I’ve messed this up.
It wins out over any hope I might have had left.
So I put the pen down next to the paper, pick up my suitcase, and leave.
For the first time since I started at PixelPulse, I’m scared to walk into the office.
I feel like I’m back at school. Back then, I was too scared to enter the classroom, to expose myself to the taunting of my fellow students.
During my first few days at uni, I would only enter the auditorium after lectures had already started so the lights would be dimmed and no one would see me.
But it was different at PixelPulse; here, I never minded.
My chosen family, my safe haven, was always here. Up until today, that is.
I could just turn back, go to the flat, put on a movie or hide under a blanket and rewatch the video for the thousandth time. It has a whopping 60,000 views now. 60,000! Our game doesn’t even have that many wish list pre-saves on Steam.
I can hear raucous laughter on the other side of the door.
My faint hope—that the others have already wrapped up for the day, that I can relegate my explanations and their pitying looks to another time—disappears.
I might have known. I smile wistfully, contemplating our studio’s logo with its pixelated font and the little heart over the letter i.
My lungs expand painfully as I gulp down a few deep breaths, and only after do I push open the door and walk into the office.
Aria’s head whips around instantly, and she leaps out of her chair and runs over to me.
“You’re back!”
A few seconds later, my nose is buried in her dark-brown hair and she’s pulling me in tight. I can smell her fruity shampoo, and I feel like crying. I’m home. Finally.
“How are you? Is everything all right? I didn’t realize you were coming back today! You’re back earlier than planned, right?”
“I’m . . .” I pause and shrug, which gets me a sigh from Aria.
She thinks my weird mood is because of my presentation, but it’s actually so much more.
I haven’t told her and Nat what happened between Luca and me.
We tell each other everything, but if I don’t mention the kiss, maybe my brain will be convinced that it didn’t mean anything.