Chapter 20
JACKSON
We embrace the whole boat ride home. I kiss the top of her head, inhale the scent of her hair, and gently rub my hands over her back. Always, the desire is there, thick, roaring, begging me to claim her. Hard. Over and over and over…
But something is going on here. Inside her head, within that caring heart, there’s a whole drama I know nothing about. I want to, but it’s clear she doesn’t want to talk about it. But maybe I can settle for making her smile.
“How about a diner trip instead?” I say.
She looks up at me doubtfully. “Can we go to a diner, really?”
I grind my teeth. I’m starting to get seriously sick of this celebrity stuff.
“I’m not a major celebrity,” I tell her. “I get photographed sometimes, but not all the time. How often are you recognized?”
“Once or twice a month,” she murmurs. “This city’s a big place. It’s not like everybody watches gaming streams.”
“Exactly. And it’s not like everybody reads tech news. We’ll drive outside the city, find a quiet trucker’s diner or something like that.”
Her face lights up at this far more than at the real cove. Maybe I should be hurt, offended. I’ve been liaising with a top-tier event planner all week, installing the emerald shimmer on the rock face, expanding the cave, installing the custom bed, and lighting.
But seeing her smile is all I need. Maybe we’ll go to the cove one day. Maybe not. Right now, it’s enough to see her happy.
“A diner would be great,” she murmurs.
“Something simple,” I say, looking closely at her.
She nods. “Something regular people do. I mean—a love-bomber doesn’t take his prey to a diner, right?”
I brush hair behind her ear. I love doing that because she tilts her head every time, just a little, moving toward my touch. A physical reflex that goes beyond all this emotional complexity. I’m able to savor the moment even if her words are like a cold slap in the face.
“I’m not trying to love bomb you,” I tell her sincerely.
“I know, I know,” she rushes to say. “I didn’t mean—you.”
“Who, then?”
“Are we docking soon?” She murmurs, turning away.
I chew the inside of my cheek for a moment. I told you about my mother. I’ve never shared that with anyone except Pete. But what would I gain by throwing that in her face?
I join her, wrapping my arm around her. “I think so. Time for our dinner adventure.”
She laughs, looking up at me with the setting sun glimmering in her eyes.
“I’m grateful, by the way,” she murmurs. “For the cove. For the effort. It’s just…”
“Stuff?” I say.
“Yeah.” She sighs. “Stuff.”
I cup my hands around my mouth and bellow up at the sky. “Fuck you, stuff!”
She laughs in delight. “You’re crazy.”
I yell, “Leave Dakota alone, stuff.”
She rushes forward and pulls my hands down. “You’re going to make them call out the coast guard.”
I sweep her into my arms. “For a streamer, you’re kind of shy.”
It’s easier like this, keeping it light, on the surface. But there’s no going back now. I saw a glimpse of the other side of her, and I want to see more.
When we hit land again, I tell the limo driver to head toward the outskirts of the city, maze-like streets turning to highway, then long stretches of open road.
We stop at a diner with one eighteen-wheeler outside, two tumbleweeds blowing by, and three dozen cigarette butts scattered near the entrance.
Inside, the trucker sits at the far end of the bar, sipping coffee. A waitress wipes down a table in slow motion.
“Do you think it’s safe?” Dakota asks, squeezing my hand.
“We’ll soon find out,” I reply.
“Should we stop holding hands?” she murmurs.
“Probably,” I admit. “But we’re not going to.”
She laughs, happy, sounding somehow carefree after everything.
I’m learning that Dakota isn’t a big-gestures sort of woman.
And she clearly doesn’t like pressure, at least when it comes to relationships.
When it comes to her career, her streaming schedule is often high-pressure enough to create diamonds. To create her.
The trucker doesn’t even look at us when we enter. The waitress glances up, frowns like she’s annoyed for customers daring to visit this lonely place, then returns to wiping down the same table.
“We’re nobodies,” Dakota whispers, like it’s the best thing a person can be.
“Completely irrelevant,” I agree with a grin.
We sit in the corner booth, around the edge of the bar, out of view of the main area of the diner.
The waitress walks over a minute later, her tired face creased into an even deeper frown than when she first saw us.
She looks confused by Dakota’s bright, happy expression.
I swallow a laugh as Dakota beams up at her.
“What’s the best item on the menu?” she asks.
“Coffee’s only forty minutes old,” she replies. “And the pancakes won’t kill you.”
“Coffee and pancakes, then,” Dakota says.
“And for you?” the waitress says, turning.
“The same.”
She pours two mugs of coffee, then turns and walks away.
“I love this,” Dakota says, leaning forward. “Do you?”
“I especially love how sticky the seats are,” I tell her sarcastically.
She laughs without abandon. “This is real, Jack.”
“I could be in line at the DMV with you, Dakota, and I’d count myself lucky. I’m just happy we’re together.”
“Really?” she murmurs, sounding impossibly insecure for a moment.
I touch her hand. “One thousand percent.” I stand. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m just desperate to see if the toilets are as fancy as the rest of this place.”
Her laughter follows me toward the door with the chipped sign. In the filthy urinal, I reflect on the fact that we must have something here. I had a fairytale evening ready to go. Then she rejected it without explanation, and now we’re in a cruddy diner, yet we can’t stop smiling.
That means something. Surely. I refuse to believe it doesn’t.
I leave the bathroom, but only open the door halfway when I hear Dakota’s voice raised slightly. “…very kind of you. Thank you so much.”
A drawling man’s voice responds. “My daughter’s the fan, fan, if you get my meaning. But I’d be lying if I said I haven’t looked over once or twice. You like them shorts that climb all the way into the ass, don’t you?”
My hands curl into fists, two invisible tennis balls rupturing in my hand. Who does this piece of shit think he is? For a shameful moment, something stops me from racing out there. If this stranger knows her, he might know me. If I go out there guns-blazing?—
“Wouldn’t mind seeing if the real product compares to the screen, you get me?”
I charge out of the bathroom, ready to commit full-blown murder. When I see the skinny, elderly trucker standing next to our table, I walk up to him and stare into his little weaselly eyes.
“Who are you talking to, motherfucker?” I snarl. “You see a woman sitting alone at a diner and, what, you think you can ask to see her ass because you’ve perved on her stream?”
This prick has clearly never been punched in the face. “Hey, brother, if she’s going to put it out th?—”
He shuts up when I step forward again. Close enough for him to truly understand the mistake he’s making.
“Are you concussed? Or just stupid?” Another step, forcing him to back up. “Apologize to my woman and walk the fuck away.”
“I’m—” He clears his throat. “Sorry. Ma’am.”
I look at Dakota. She’s staring up at him with white-hot rage in her eyes.
“You’re only saying that because he’s here,” she says in disgust. “If I were alone, you wouldn’t take no for an answer.
At least, not my first no. I’d have to placate you.
Act all nice and pretty and obedient just to get you far enough away from me that my skin would stop crawling.
But no, because there’s a bigger man here, a man who could squash you like a roach, suddenly, you’re sorry. ”
“That’s not?—”
The man shuts his mouth when he sees me glaring at him. I’ve never been readier to hurt someone, even if it wouldn’t be much of a fight.
Finally, he turns and walks to the door.
“Lowlife,” Dakota hisses.
“What was that?” The man yells, standing in the open doorway. “Little bitch!”
“What the fuck?” I jog toward him, every inch of me burning, ready to tear his head from his shoulders.
The little rat immediately pulls out his cell phone, aiming his camera at me. This is bad. He clearly doesn’t know who I am, but the last thing I need is for a video like this to go viral. CEO Launches Attack on Trucker to Defend Streamer Girlfriend.
“This man is trying to intimidate me!” the trucker whines, voice breaking. “I complimented his girlfriend because she’s a public person. And now, he’s getting jealous and trying to attack me, a man twice his age.”
I stop, glaring at the camera. “Unbelievable,” I snarl.
He backs up slowly. “Do you want your assault on video? Is that it?”
“Coward,” I snap. “You made a lewd comment to a woman young enough to be your daughter, you bastard, when you thought she was alone and defenseless.”
“I did no such thing,” he says, seeming genuinely outraged like all lowlifes are.
“Just get out of here with your little camera.”
He leaves, the door swinging shut behind him. I turn to find the waitress aiming a camera at me, too.
“What are you doing?” I demand.
“This place doesn’t have CCTV, and you folks are getting rowdy,” she says.
Even when people don’t know who I am, it’s cameras, cameras, cameras. I’m sick of it.
“Come on, Dakota,” I say, walking over to the table and offering her my hand.
“What a jerk,” she says, taking it and rising to her feet. As we leave the diner, she calls over her shoulder, “That goes for you too, bitch!”
That draws a crazed laugh out of us all the way to the limo, a laugh of pure adrenaline and release, an acknowledgement of just how surreal this all is.
“Can you believe that guy?” she rages during the car ride back. “What right does he have? I get it—I sometimes dress a little, a tiny bit, provocatively, but surely that doesn’t… does it?”
“He’s in the wrong. Completely. No qualifiers. I wish he’d been bigger and my age so I wouldn’t feel bad about shoving that phone down his throat.”
She laughs, looking up at me with glistening eyes. “Am I going to be even more of a head fuck if I say I kind of liked you riding in as my knight in shining armor?”
I smirk. “Yeah, maybe. But screw it, baby. You can fuck with my head all night long if you want.”
That draws another laugh out of us. The car feels like its own self-contained universe, like nothing outside of this limo can hurt us.
But the fact is that video exists, and if he uploads it anywhere…
And what if this driver isn’t as discreet as the company promised? What if someone saw us at the boatyard?
“I think we need to go public,” I say.
Instantly, I know it’s a mistake. Dakota leans away from me, pushing herself against the window as if she wishes she could sink through it.
“Go public with what?”
“With us,” I say.
“What would we even say? We’ve been on two dates, Jack. We need to slow down.”
“If we were a normal couple, maybe we could.”
“A couple? Is that what we are?”
I surge across the car. Crash my lips against hers.
She responds instantly, rubbing up against me.
She moans with an urgent, needy quality that makes my dick go rock-hard instantly.
When I glide my hand up her leg, she opens her thighs.
I’m almost at her core when she pushes her hand against my chest.
“Stop, Jack.”
I quickly move to the other side of the limo. Have to. I’m burning all over and my manhood is aching from how hard it is.
“We need to make this decision before somebody makes it for us,” I tell her.
“We need more time.”
“What if that jerk uploads the video?”
“He won’t,” she says. “He comes across like a jackass. And he clearly didn’t know who you are.”
“He might learn who I am later. See a photo of me somewhere. Upload it anonymously for the sheer thrill. Or mute the audio and lie about what was said.”
“You’ve said it yourself, Jack. Both our careers are in danger if we do this. I’m suddenly the fuck-her-way-to-the-top streamer, and you’re Mr. Take Advantage. That’s how people will see it.”
“We’ve got something, Dakota,” I tell her. “And I know you’ve got stuff going on, reasons for not wanting to rush in. I respect that. But you can’t sit there and tell me you don’t feel it. I know you do.”
“I feel it, Jack,” she murmurs. “Even in the first messages we sent, I felt it. But having some feelings for one magical moment isn’t a good reason to blow up our lives.”
“We could handle it right. Come out as a happy, healthy couple.”
“That would be wonderful… when we’re a happy, healthy couple, not when we’ve only just started seeing each other.” A pause. “You’d never do this alone, would you?”
“No,” I tell her. “I wouldn’t do this alone, and if we were having sex in a clamshell bed and you said stop, I’d stop.”
“I shouldn’t have said that,” she murmurs. “I’m sorry.”
I wave a hand. “No—I’m sorry. I’m being a bitter prick.”
“You’ve got a lot of weight on your shoulders.”
“And you haven’t?” I say, reaching over and taking her hand. “You built an empire with your personality and your skill. I’d hate to be the reason that crumbles down.”
“Then let’s not panic. For all we know, we’ve got weeks, months even, before we’re forced to make a decision.”
“You’re right,” I say, not sure if I believe it. But trying to, for her sake.
Soon, it’s time to say goodbye. Our kiss is deep and passionate, tongues finding each other eagerly. She moans as she smooths her hand up my leg. I can feel how badly she wants this, but then she stops herself.
“This has been great,” she says, breathing hard. “But even if I want to ask you to come upstairs, I think, for now, raincheck?”
My dick twitches. My body responds fiercely.
“Raincheck,” I agree. “I’ll text you later.”
“You better,” she says, flashing me a look.
The next morning, as I walk into the office to join the Saturday crew, it’s like every single person knows our secret. Like they’ve somehow seen the video. Every glance is an accusation. Every hesitation makes me wonder if they’re wondering how to break the news.
It’s torture, but I’m not breaking my promise. Until she’s ready, I need to stay strong.