Pin-up Girl (Third and Main Book 3)

1. Aubrey

Trivia night at Joystick’s would never be the same.

Not like it was a normal affair to begin with.

All of my friends were gathered around Sylvie, congratulating her. It seemed everyone forgot Sawyer’s spectacular hand in helping our trivia team lose a tiebreaker, when my little sister walked in the door and announced she was moving back to Haddarville for the next month, to plan her wedding.

I couldn’t stop hugging her. Congratulating her. Smiling about the news. Sylvie looked so happy.

In the back of my mind, I was concerned that she’d flown out here impulsively—not telling anyone she was coming—and she’d been in such a hurry to get here that she’d paid too much for a driver, rather than rent a car. My plan everything and do it all by the book sister didn’t do impulsive.

But she was so happy.

Questions came at her from every side. She was only two years younger than me, so my friends all knew her. Some of them had been in her class in school. Everyone wanted to know who he was, what he did for a living, where they met, and how he proposed.

We had all pulled our chairs around a single table, or tried. It was more like we’d built a messy circle of a dozen or so chairs around Sylvie, and were lovingly interrogating her.

Everyone joined in except Sebastian. He had sneaked out within moments of her showing up. The two were a couple when his tech company went sideways, and he still blamed her for being a part of the backstab that lost him his creation.

“How did you convince a big city broker to come back here for a wedding?” I added my own question to the list.

Sylvie hadn’t stopped grinning since she walked in. “He wanted to elope. The night he proposed, he wanted us to hop a plane to Vegas and tie the knot. It was so romantic.”

“Whoa, back up,” I said playfully. “Who the hell is this guy that he made Sylvie-fucking-Lantrey want to be impulsive?” I loved my sister, and all her quirks, including the fact that she was organized to the point of obsession, and doing something like changing her coffee brand required a twenty-page slide show for herself, to weigh the pros and cons.

“He’s helped me with a lot of things, like learning to be more impulsive.”

Which would mean a ten-page slideshow instead of twenty.

“Besides, I didn’t agree to elope. There was no way I was doing this without my family. Without you and Marianne. You have to be there. You have to help me plan all this in the next month and find the perfect dress and be my maid of honor?” Sylvie ended on what sounded like a question, and fixed me with a pleading look.

Me? She didn’t have a super best friend back in Seattle who would be here in a few days to take over all the planning? Not that I’d ever heard her mention anyone. But… Me?

“I’d love to.” I squealed and pulled her into another hug.

The group of us stayed and talked for a few more hours—long past closing time. Joystick never said a word, but his partner Eli was looking tired. Neither of them knew Sylvie, and it wasn’t fair to keep them here this late.

I stood and pulled Sylvie to her feet. “You’re staying with me, of course.” Which meant I could keep talking to her tonight.

“Are you sure? I can get a room at the motel.”

I scoffed and pretended to be offended. “No. My guest room is yours for as long as you need it.” I lived in the apartment above my vintage clothing store, and while it wasn’t a big place, it was better than shoving her in any motel room.

“Okay.” Sylvie grabbed the handle of her rolling suitcase. “I should get to bed early anyway. I still have to wrap up some work in the morning.”

“You’re not on vacation?” Maddox asked.

Sylvie’s laugh was one of disbelief. “Sort of? There are still things that need to be done.”

Which meant she hadn’t dropped everything to be here. That was more like my sister. There was a reason she was the youngest Senior Vice President at the company she worked for, and next in line for the position of Chief Operations Officer.

She gave everyone goodnight hugs, extracted a group promise to help her as needed with planning, and she and I were on our way.

I tugged her rolling suitcase, and a smaller bag over my shoulder, while she had her laptop and purse. Because we tended to drink a lot on trivia night, and even the people who had houses instead of apartments above their shops didn’t live far away, most of us tended to walk. There weren’t many cars around.

But my place was only a couple blocks from Joystick’s. Probably a shorter trip to haul Sylvie’s luggage than any she’d taken through the airport.

“I have so many ideas,” Sylvie talked as we walked. “I’ve got them all written down. Organized. Tomorrow when we’re both done with work, we can start going through them. I have thoughts about my gown, but I want your opinion. You have the prettiest dresses. Flowers. Invitations. Guest list. Do you think we can use the church?”

“We can ask, but I think it’s more for members,” I said.

She frowned. “I’d love to do it outside, but it might be too cold.”

Mid to late September? There was a fifty-fifty chance it would either be freezing, or we’d be in our second or third summer. “It might be. But Evie has a huge back yard. And Brooke has a gorgeous barn.”

“Brooke?” Sylvie glanced at me. “The woman who stole your man?”

I bit the inside of my cheek at her phrasing. “She didn’t steal Deacon. He was never mine.” He should’ve been. I thought so for the longest time. But— “Besides, she’s really sweet.”

Sylvie shrugged. “I don’t think I could be as nice as you. He’s mine and I’m his and nothing will come between us.” There was an edge in her voice that very much reminded me of my sister. The driven woman who would achieve what she wanted, no matter the cost.

She was going to have an interesting time adjusting here. More than a couple of my friends were in three person and polyamorous relationships. The possessiveness didn’t quite work the same way for them.

Lucky bitches—every single one of them. I hadn’t even found one person who wanted to spend the rest of our lives together, and so many of my friends had two. These days I was happy being single, but for a long time it had gnawed at me that I wasn’t worth someone loving me.

“Anyway. Guest list. We have to invite the entire family. Everyone.” Sylvie had moved on.

I wasn’t sure I liked that idea. No family was perfect, including our extended one. “Even Aunt Neva? Even Grandma?” Was the next month enough time to brace myself for the inevitable barrage of so when are you doing this? Where’s your man? Why aren’t you tying the knot? Your younger sister is married, and you were already the old maid of the family.

Those questions would come on top of complaints that they had to make last minute travel plans. Last-minute all plans, since I was the only member of our family who lived here.

I couldn’t wait.

I stopped at the rear entrance to my shop and unlocked the door leading up to my apartment. Stepping aside, I let Sylvie in, then locked up behind us.

“Even them.” Sylvie sounded sympathetic as she started up the stairs.

It was her wedding, and she could have what she wanted. I’d suck up the barrage of well-meaning comments for her.

I pushed in the handle on her suitcase and tried to lift it, dropping it with a thunk on the first stair. “What do you have in here? Bricks?”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Clothes. Shoes. Bridal magazines. Leave it down there. I’ll make it lighter in the morning.”

“No arguments here.” I tucked the suitcase out of the way, and followed her upstairs.

In my apartment, she set her laptop bag neatly on the kitchen table, and we put her purse and carry-on in my guest room.

“Do you want something to drink? Soda? Wine?” I offered. “We have so much catching up to do.”

Sylvie gave me an apologetic shrug. “I really do have to work in the morning, I’m sorry. Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, of course.” I tucked away my sliver of disappointment.

“So you know, I take a pill to help me sleep, and keep my earbuds in, so I’m dead to the world until my alarm goes off. If the house burns down, don’t leave me behind.”

“I mean… What if I have to pick between you and the TV?” I teased.

Sylvie stuck her tongue out at me. “Then I understand.”

I gave her another hug. “I wouldn’t ever leave you behind. Go sleep.”

With my sister in the guest room, I crossed the living room to my own bedroom on the other side of the apartment. It was barely ten—too early for me to sleep—so I closed my door and turned on my computer.

With the silence settling in, so did the doubt I’d tried to ignore all night. I should be happy for Sylvie, no questions asked, and maybe it was just the idea of having my family here, but this didn’t feel right.

Grandma would probably tell me it was because I was still single, and I was jealous.

I really wasn’t. For the longest time I’d thought I was in love with the boy next door—Deacon. When I told him how I felt, and he didn’t feel the same way, I’d been crushed.

But in the time that had passed since, I’d had time to think and consider. I was glad we hadn’t worked out, because I never wanted to find myself in a relationship just because I was lonely. I was good being single. The right guy or girl would have to make me feel just as comfortable with them as I was without them.

I settled into my chair, slipped on my headphones, and pulled up the online game that I played. Maybe BW was online. I loved gaming with him because he respected my skills as a player, and at the same time let me be meek and vulnerable when I needed.

I refused to call him by his full screen name—BetaWrecker. No numbers. No extra characters. He’d been in the game that long. When I first saw the character, I steered clear of him. He was playing a sorcerer, he was in all the highest end gear, and he spent a lot of time hanging around in the main square in-game.

Basically everything about his character screamed douche, like most every other guy in game.

I logged in, and frowned when I didn’t see him online. That meant tonight I was distracting myself by killing mobs. I did a quick check of my inventory and gear, then teleported to my favorite grinding spot on the game map.

It was a high enough level region that even the higher end players didn’t linger out here, and there were no quests in the area. The fights would challenge me without being impossible, and I’d probably be left alone.

Including by the one person I’d hoped to see.

I never would’ve given BW the time of day, but we were matched going into a dungeon. I needed to get my quest done, so I’d switched classes from fighter to healer. I tended to keep a voice filter on and play a male character, so I wouldn’t get harassed. He’d made a few comments in the dungeon that were actually funny. Not elitist or sexist.

When the run was over, he and I were still talking. We’d just clicked. We chatted for hours that night, and again the next night. It had taken me a long time to drop my defenses with him, but four years later, he was my best friend who didn’t live in Haddarville. He and I told each other everything.

Well, not everything. We didn’t know each other’s real names, jobs, or locations. We’d never seen each other’s faces. I did eventually turn off the voice filter so he knew I was female. I knew he was a tech genius.

“What’s your camping penalty at, Peach?” His voice came over my headphones.

I smiled at the interruption, and the way his being online filled me with warm fuzzies. A glance at my XP confirmed that sure enough, I’d been out here fighting so long that the game was penalizing me—giving me a camping penalty—for hunting in the same spot.

“I guess I was lost in my own head.” I walked my character out of the clearing to stand next to him at the edge of the forest. “Did you just log in?”

Though we were talking over headsets, and all I saw of him was a series of pixels on screen, the conversation was as real and easy as if we were face to face.

“I’ve been watching you for about twenty minutes,” BW said.

Heat flooded my cheeks. “Why?”

“You look extra fucking sexy in that tight little leather piece.”

I posed my male character on screen, showing off my newest armor. “Right? I finally finished dying it my colors.”

His rumble of appreciation rolled through me, summoning a pleasant shiver. “I logged on, you didn’t say hi,” he said. “I found you here, and you didn’t notice me when I showed up, so I took advantage of the opportunity to stare. You do incredible things with your weapon.”

“I’ll do amazing things to you with my weapon,” I teased.

“Pretty sure that’s my line.”

I laughed. This was easy with him. There was zero expectation, whether I was in the mood to be a skilled gamer or a submissive little slut. He was himself either way, which meant I could be the same. “Considering I’m not getting real XP, do you wanna get out of here?”

“Yeah.” He agreed. “Your place?”

“My place.” I had an in-game house that I’d spent hours decorating. It was cute and fun, and I even had a beanbag in my living room that I won in an in-game event. It wasn’t appropriate at all to the world or setting, which was part of the reason I loved it.

Like the vintage clothing I sold, I adored taking something out of its time or place, and giving it a spot to belong again.

Plus, our avatars could cuddle on the digital beanbag, which we did the moment we were in the house.

“So what’s actually on your mind, that you’re willing to zone out and watch me kill gryphosnorks for twenty minutes?” I asked as I lay next to him.

There was a pause. “I already told you. I was enjoying the show.”

“Uh-huh. What’s the real answer?”

He made an audible scoff. On screen we were just pixels, sitting around making the preprogrammed movements of our characters. But with his voice in my ears, it was easy to slip into half a daydream that we were actually cuddled together.

What BW and I had wasn’t romantic—the secrets we kept meant I didn’t know quite enough of him for that. Our relationship was physical… ish. I wasn’t interested in making a similar mistake with him to the one I made with Deacon, by wishing we were more.

Not that I’d ever fingered myself in an empty room while I told Deacon over a headset that I wanted to choke on his cock and be his good little girl.

“It’s work stuff,” BW finally said. “NDA. You know the drill. I wish I could say more.”

But he never could.

I’d managed to piece together that he worked with some big-name clients, with names most people had heard of, and he was very good at what he did. In high demand in his industry.

But I did wish we could share?—

Nope. I didn’t. There was no reason to take this relationship beyond what it was—good, comfortable, and safe.

“What about you? What has you distracted?” he asked.

I sighed. There was no reason to keep this a secret, though I might tweak the details a hint to keep it easy to explain. Besides, I needed to talk this out with someone. “My sister is coming home to get married. And I’m super excited for her.”

“But?”

“It’s dumb.” Now that we were here, I couldn’t make myself admit what was in my head. Saying the words out loud would confirm I was being catty and judgmental.

“It’s not dumb. What is it?”

I sighed. It would feel good to get this out of my head. “I’m about to spend the next month enmeshed in her romance. My family will show up. God the last thing I’m in the mood for is them asking me when it’s my turn. Reminding me I’m single. Hitting me with statements like, Now that your sisters are off the market, when are you getting hitched?”

“Do you know what you need?”

I could think of a few things. If he said a good deep dicking it would give me something new to be pissed about. But he wouldn’t. He never approached things that way. “A Valium prescription and to learn to be functionally drunk in the next few days?” I said.

BW’s chuckle was flat. “Not a good idea. You need a fake fiancé.”

Better than a real one. “I’m not a Hallmark movie.”

“Think about it. If you want to stop nosy relatives from asking when you’re getting married, be ready with an answer, a ring, and the perfect guy.”

“The perfect love doesn’t exist.” Not outside my head, anyway.

“I do a decent imitation,” he said.

This time I was the one to laugh dryly. “That’ll go over well. Hey Auntie Mary Sue, I do have a fiancé. He’s on the internet. Unless you’re local and never told me. Oh my god. Sebastian? This isn’t you is it?” I was joking. He sounded nothing like Sebastian. “Sylvie will kill us both if she finds out what we’ve been doing.” I shouldn’t use real names. For a heartbeat, fear leaked in. What if I really was talking to someone local?

I wasn’t.

“My name’s not Sebastian,” he said. “It’s BW. Is Sylvie my wife? She and I could share you.”

I swallowed my eww, gross. Not that I had a problem with the idea of hooking up with a sexy couple. That could be fun, but not if one half of them was my sister. Eww.

He obviously didn’t know who I was talking about, and I wasn’t going to make things weird. “I appreciate the offer.” I did. It was sweet. “If you were here, I might take you up on it, but I’ll suck it up. This is my sister’s happy time, and I’m going to make sure she enjoys it.”

“If I can’t fake marry you, what do you want to do instead?”

“Cuddle?”

“Cuddle or cuddle,” he said the second one in a deeper voice that made me shiver with delight.

“That last one.” Who needed an impossible to find perfect partner when I could give myself a decent orgasm using my imagination, while a man with a sexy voice murmured filthy things in my ear?