Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
COVE
Lorna’s office is giving goth CEO vibes today. It kinda always does, but something about the way the chandelier’s glowing and the way her green velvet chair is angled makes my skin prickle like I walked into a trap. A sexy, very expensive trap.
I cross the room like I belong here, even though my heart’s doing stupid shit like skipping beats and fluttering. Maybe I drank too much iced coffee and need more self-esteem. The cameras are already set up. Lights glowing. Mic clipped to my bra strap.
And me? I’m sitting here in my little pink pleated skirt and tank top with cherries on it, pretending like I’m calm and collected and not about to find out who’s gonna fuck me on camera for the internet.
Casual.
“You ready?” Lorna asks, not even looking up from her tablet.
“Yep,” I lie. “Born for this exact moment.”
She snorts. “You look like you’re gonna puke sparkles.”
I blow out a breath and try to roll the tension out of my shoulders. “Just nervous. It’s kinda a big deal.”
“Yeah, babe. It is. Which is why we’re keeping it tight.” She finally looks up, gaze sharp. “You pick the winner on cam. We contact him. He gets tested, signs the NDA, clears legal. Then and only then do you even think about flirting off script.”
“I know, I know.”
“Do you? Because your cheeks are giving summer camp first kiss energy and I need porn star with a plan.”
“Rude,” I mutter. “This is just my face.”
She smirks. “Sure it is.”
I swear, she lives to roast me. But I love her for it. Lorna’s the one who took a chance on me when I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing. She saw something and now here I am, about to pick a rando sub to make content with for Cotton Candy Day, of all things.
This could either be iconic… or a total trainwreck.
We roll. Camera’s live. My name flashes on the screen behind me in a bubbly pink font, Sweetest Ride Giveaway and I flash the camera my best sugar-sweet smile.
“Hey, Sugars,” I coo. “The moment you’ve all been waiting for is finally here. I’ve got one name to draw. One ride to give. And it’s gonna be oh-so-sweet.”
I hit the button on the giveaway app Lorna loaded up, it has a big spinny wheel of usernames and flashing colors like I’m hosting the sluttiest game show ever.
My stomach’s in my throat.
Please don’t be someone weird. Please don’t be that foot guy who messaged me seventeen times about toe rings. Please don’t be—
The wheel slows. Ticks. Ticks again.
Then lands.
MountMeEverest.
I freeze. No way.
No. Fucking. Way.
That’s… him.
The quiet one. The sweet one. The one who DM’d me when I canceled a stream and said “are you okay?” like he gave a damn.
My heart legit skips. I almost forget I’m being filmed.
“Ohh,” I say, voice going breathy, and I clear my throat fast. “Well, would you look at that? Looks like someone’s climbing higher than the rest. MountMeEverest, you’re my big winner, baby.”
I try to keep my face from doing anything stupid. Like smiling too hard. Or blushing. Or giggling. Lorna’s watching from behind the camera like a hawk. I know that look. That’s the stick to the plan, bitch face.
So I stick to the plan.
I go through the rules again—testing, screening, no contact until the boring-but-necessary legal stuff is squared away. Gotta keep it safe. Gotta keep it clean. (Well, not clean-clean. Just, like, lawsuit-proof.)
We wrap the shoot. Lights cut off. I slump into the velvet chair like my bones turned into jelly.
“Okay,” I whisper. “Holy shit.”
Lorna doesn’t even lift her head. “You good?”
“That was him.”
“Which him?”
“Him him. MountMeEverest. He messaged me one night when I was stress-eating a burrito and crying over my nursing notes disappearing. He’s been lurking for a bit but, like, in a respectful way.”
“Mmhmm.”
“No, seriously. He’s not creepy. He doesn’t send dick pics. He tips, he watches, and then just… logs off. Except that one night he asked if I was okay. And now he’s the winner.”
Lorna raises an eyebrow, finally looking up. “You better not be catching feelings for a man whose entire online identity is a hiking pun.”
I throw a pillow at her. “It’s fate.”
“It’s marketing.”
I sigh, grinning anyway. “Both can be true.”
She snaps her tablet shut and stands, brushing invisible lint off her all-black power suit. “Do not message him until we clear him. I mean it. I’ll lock your account down if I have to.”
“I know, I know. God. You act like I’ve broken a rule before.”
Lorna just points two fingers at her eyes, then at mine. “Don’t be stupid.”
And then she’s gone, off to bully an intern or wrangle a cock cage sponsorship. Queen shit.
I hang back, waiting until I hear the click of the outer door before pulling my phone from my bag. My fingers hover over the screen. I shouldn’t message him.
So I don’t.
I go to my performer portal instead. Copy his subscriber name from the draw confirmation. Open my messages.
And stare at the screen like a dumbass for a solid thirty seconds.
God, I probably look like one of those girls who does heart doodles in the margins of her notebook. I’m not even this soft with the guys I fuck in real life. But there’s just something about him.
I start typing.
Me: Hey, Everest. Looks like the universe has a sense of humor. Or maybe good taste. Either way, congrats on winning the Sweetest Ride.
I pause. Add a line. Delete it. Add a winky face. Delete it again. Ugh.
Me (for real this time): Hey, Everest—congrats, sugar. You’re the winner. Legal will be in touch soon to walk you through the next steps, but I just wanted to say… I’m looking forward to meeting you. Don’t go ghost on me now
I stare at it. Then hit send before I can overthink it into oblivion.
My phone screen glows with the message sent, and I lean back, heart thudding like I just got off a roller coaster. It’s done. It’s happening.
MountMeEverest is mine.
At least for one day.
And if the universe wants to throw in a little extra magic?
Well, I’m not the type to say no to a happy ending.