Chapter 7
DAKOTA
Okay, seriously, this has to be Jackson Cross, right?
He has access to an empty version of Emerald Cove. His character is decked out in all end-game gear. And, well, everything else. He’s being cautious, which is fair enough. But Jackson Cross is dirty talking me in his game.
I try to be chill about it, to remind myself I need to be as careful as he is. I don’t want to go too far. Put myself out there. Get hurt. But flirting with him is fun. And his message turns me on, big time.
I’m not some nympho, but the truth? I want to reach between my legs. Slip my hand into my PJ shorts and press down on my core to relieve some of the pressure there.
DakkyDuck: Is this why you brought me here?
TheRealCreator: You asked, hot stuff.
I grin, ear-to-ear. In my head, I can hear Noah urging me on. “No one controls you, Dakky. Not your dad. Not your boyfriend. No one—only you. If that means making your own mistakes, make them!”
DakkyDuck: Maybe I wouldn’t mind being dragged into the dark.
I feel naughty as I click send, as if I’m breaking some kind of rule. I’m not. People role-play in Empire all the time. There’s a big romance community on some servers. That’s just never been my jam.
TheRealCreator: What are you wearing?
I chew my lip. Am I making a mistake? Maybe, but as Noah said, it’s mine to make.
DakkyDuck: Short shorts. And a tank top. But no bra.
TheRealCreator: Are you telling me those juicy tits of yours are free? Your nipples poking through the fabric, waiting to be touched?
My head swims with heat. Wetness tickles out of my entrance, my clit suddenly feeling hot.
DakkyDuck: Maybe I am, but you know I can’t go into detail until I know, Jackson.
His character assumes a thinking pose. I grin, impressed that he’s so immersed in the game that he’s emoting.
But then, what did I expect? Jackson Cross spent the first ten years of his life stubbornly addicted to video games, turning it into a passion, then a profession, when he dropped out of college.
TheRealCreator: Check the streaming app.
I close the game. Go to the app. Stare at the rectangle in the middle of the screen. There’s a play icon, meaning it’s a video. My lips feel dry. I lick them, which does nothing.
When I click play, I feel like it’s the beginning of something special. I stopped believing in fairytales a long time ago. But—and yeah, it’s na?ve—now, I’m not so sure.
He brings the camera to his face, temples pulsing, his inner conflict clear in his tight features. “Hey, Dakota,” he says in his gruff voice. “I hope this video doesn’t dwarf what we’ve got going on in the game.”
I laugh, delighted. But also with a hint of holy shit this is too good to be true. I knew, didn’t I? Maybe. Now, I feel it. And that’s much more important.
In Empire, I respond.
DakkyDuck: I promise, Jackson, no one will know about this. Ever. I swear. I’m not some fame-hungry streamer who’s going to use you. I’ve had chances to sell my soul to get bigger. I’ve turned them all down.
TheRealCreator: That’s good to hear. I didn’t plan on any of this.
DakkyDuck: Any of what?
TheRealCreator: THIS.
His character mimics yelling, waving his arms, instead of speaking.
TheRealCreator: Tuning into your streams. Thinking about them when I’m supposed to be working. Making announcements just for you… because I want to. Because I can. Because it’s fun, having a secret just for us, something the rest of the world doesn’t know about.
Warning signals blare in my mind. Does he have other girlfriends? Is this his usual go-to move with streamers?
I want to step into the cave with him, to see where the dirty talk will lead. I don’t date much, and I’ve been working so hard, I just want to have a little fun. But at the same time, I know I need to slow down and get a second opinion.
I type, forcing my fingers into action.
DakkyDuck: I’m sorry, but I have to go. I don’t want to rush into anything.
TheRealCreator: I understand. Before you go, let me ask you something about the game. I swear, I didn’t invite you here just to obsess over your thick, fine figure and that smile that lights up the whole internet.
The compliments make my body buzz all over.
I should probably know better. I’ve spent so long being so stubbornly independent, but now I feel special.
Seen in a way my streams can’t accomplish.
Wanted. Hungered for. It’s a new, exciting adventure that makes me want to build a whole new empire out of it.
DakkyDuck: Sure… and don’t be shy with that sort of talk.
TheRealCreator: I wouldn’t be able to stop telling you how badly I want you alone, all to myself, even if I tried. And I’m not going to try.
A pause, then his next message follows.
TheRealCreator: My question… what do you think about this zone repurposed for role players? I’ll take the existing enemies and scatter them across different levels and dungeons. The scenery and the atmosphere here would be perfect for RPers, no? Yes?
DakkyDuck: Don’t you have entire teams to handle this sort of thing?
TheRealCreator: Sure, I do. But you play this game more than any of them. And somehow, I think you care more.
My throat tightens at my next question.
DakkyDuck: What makes you say that?
TheRealCreator: On your stream, sometimes, you get choked up in certain places. The summoning stone near the bank. The water fountain. The elder tree. These were all early additions to the game, which makes me think you’ve got a nostalgic connection to it from those early days.
DakkyDuck: You noticed me getting choked up?
My emotion swells at his attention to detail.
TheRealCreator: You hide it well. Just like you hide when you’re uncomfortable. But your voice changes. Just a little, just for a moment.
DakkyDuck: You’re right. This would be a fantastic zone for role players. Sorry, I have to go now, Jackson.
TheRealCreator: Call me Jack.
I log off, lean back in my chair, my head swimming. The creator of Empire’s Fall just asked for my opinion about game development. That’s huge. Oh, and he also wants to have sex with me. Pretty clearly. That’s… just as huge. Maybe bigger.
But what if he’s lying? Using me? Pretending he cares about my opinion just so he can get into my pants?
This has gone on long enough. Almost a week. It’s time for a second opinion.
Mara snatches the phone from me to rewatch the video. I wrap my hands around my coffee cup and take a big sip, letting the caffeine pulse through me. “Hey, Dakota,” Jack Cross says gruffly. “I hope this video doesn’t dwarf what we’ve got going on in the game.”
“What… the…” Mara blinks, handing me back my phone, dumbfounded.
“I thought it’d be easier to show you before I told you,” I murmur.
“Well—uh—I mean…” She laughs, shaking her head. “Speak, woman.”
I laugh, nervous, excited, a mixture I’ve never felt before. When I look at Mara, it’s like looking at her cousin. At Noah. She has the same brown eyes, the same smile. Mara’s hair is dyed pink, which is a major difference, but even her jawline is similar.
I tell her about the messages, the announcement, and the meetings in Empire. Everything.
“Wait a minute,” Mara murmurs. “You were trying to message me, but it went to him?”
“Yep,” I tell her. “I should’ve just sent him a nude. Would’ve been just as subtle!”
Mara giggles, wiping a tear from her eye. “This is so surreal.”
“Tell me about it,” I say. “I thought it was just some creep at first. God knows, I get enough of those. But there’s no way someone could fake this, is there?”
“No,” Mara says firmly. “Between the videos and the announcement… he’s being about as subtle as a brick through a window.”
“I like that thought,” I say quickly, defending him. “He’s clearly nervous. I can’t blame him. For all he knows, I’m going to use him for clout.”
“Which would be smart,” Mara says. When I give her a look, she shrugs. “I’m just saying. If Jackson Cross fell head over heels for, say, Tellural, do you think he’d pass up the shot?”
“No,” I admit. Tellural is another Empire streamer, always at the top of the charts, because he uses clickbait, drama, and pulls stunts like camping overnight outside the Halcyon offices. “But I’ve never wanted to be like him. I don’t want drama. I just want…”
“What Noah wanted for you,” Mara says softly.
I reach across the table and squeeze her hand. “Exactly.”
“So, what are you going to do?”
“That’s what I wanted to ask you,” I say. “If you were me, what would you do? You go on more dates than me. I feel like a fish out of water. My last date was… three years ago! Can you believe that?”
“I thought you were being picky,” she says, a teasing note in her voice. “Now I know you were just waiting for him.”
“Mara,” I hiss. “I’m serious.”
“What would I do?” Mara flips a hand through her pink hair. “Honey, I would’ve virtually fucked his brains out last night in Emerald Cove.” I must give her another look because she raises her hand. “I’m talking about a hypothetical man, by the way, not Jackson.”
“You don’t need to say that. I’m not jealous.”
She tilts her head at me, raising an eyebrow.
“Okay,” I admit. “I’m a little jealous.”