2. Rosemary
Rosemary
My heart’s pounding a million beats a minute. Which can’t be good or healthy, but with a couple deep, centering breaths, I’m sure I’ll be fine.
I gulp down air and plant myself in front of the air conditioning unit. Sweat still oozes from every pore of my body and I can’t bear it, so I peel my shirt off and wish these older beach houses had come better equipped for heatwaves.
Then, I make another call to the only friend I have in town. My sister’s bestie, Devlin.
“Did you do the deed?”
“Oh my god. That was the most terrifying, insane thing I’ve ever done in my life.”
“GGs, you dirty girl.” Devlin makes a purring noise in the back of his throat, then starts clicking his tongue at me. “What would your sister say if she knew?”
“Dev, I didn’t hire him for the sex. I told him specifically there was no hanky-panky required.” I wrinkle my nose. “And if you tell my sister, I swear to God, I will get you axed off the wedding guest list so fast.”
“Honeybee, puh-lease. Your chances of success there are negative five hundy, okay?”
“I still don’t get why you couldn’t just stand in for my fake boyfriend. It’s one weekend.”
“I couldn’t play straight if I tried. The second I see a hot nerdy man, or one of them big boys dressed up like a conquering Viking lord, I’d be like a little puppy dog, and that’d be it. Cover blown. Besides, I’d get the ick the minute you tried to kiss me.”
“I wasn’t going to kiss you.”
“I thought the whole point of this charade is for you to make Mr. Ex-Boyfriend-What’s-His-Psycho-Ass jealous.”
“No,” I say, pushing away from the wall and plopping into my gaming chair. I spin towards my computer and pull up to the handcrafted desk my future brother-in-law made. “The point is to show Psykl0ne that he ain’t shit. I’ve moved on. I’m doing fan-flipping-tastic without him.”
“Uh huh.” Dev says, disbelief baked into the word. “And so that’s why you don’t leave the house, you don’t refer to your ex by his IRL name, and your sister’s worried you’re becoming a reclusive hermit who only talks to people on the internet?”
I throw my hands up in the air and let out an exaggerated sigh. “I’m fine, okay? Sage, Griffin, Dad, you—none of you have to worry about me. I have friends. I get out.”
“Going to the grocery store to pick up more snacks and record some weird, ranty video in your car does not qualify as getting out.”
“My weird, ranty videos are clapbacks, Dev.”
“You know you don’t actually have to take the bait he lays out for you, right? Like, that’s a choice, babes.”
I pull up Parker’s streaming schedule, like I don’t already know it by heart. “I know, but he’s just been spewing so many lies, Dev. Tearing me down left and right. What am I supposed to do? Lie down and take it like a good girl?”
“Treat him like the puny little ant he is and blow it off. Don’t let him get to you. That’s what he wants, because all that rage-baiting is what’s giving him views. And you went into his stream and gave him exactly what he was hoping to get. Your attention.”
My eyes drift shut and I chew on my bottom lip.
It’s true that I lost my head and threw down the gauntlet the second he raided my stream with his toxic audience.
The open taunts, the gross insults, and the wave of misogyny combined with a flood of his smug face filling up my chat made me temporarily insane.
When he said I shouldn’t even bother showing up to the Illysia Classic because it’d be “embarrassing” for me to turn up without anyone to cheer for me, well, I saw red.
Then I opened my big mouth and told him how wrong he was. I boasted about my sexy new (nonexistent) beau who supports the shit out of my choices and my career, and who loves that some days, I’m a goddamn cat.
“Well, too late now. I made a mess, and I’m going to fix it. With a little hired help from the guy you recommended, I’ll show Psykl0ne up and wipe the floor with him in the tourney. And when I do, that sweet, sweet prize pot and the title of three-time Illysia Classic Champion will be all mine.”
“And then what, babes?”
“And then…” I pull up the website with the provocative photos of my brand new fake boyfriend and cast a critical eye over the standard blond beach bum bro who smolders over his muscled shoulder at the camera.
I feel nothing. No spark of interest, no pull of attraction.
This is why I chose him. Someone safe, professional, discreet.
We do one weekend, and we part ways. “I retire and find a new path forward.”
I’m sitting in the dark wearing a full cosplay outfit complete with a half-bunny mask shielding my face while I mash buttons on my keyboard and shout commands at the community members on my team.
We’ve spent hours playing in 5v5 battle matches, trying to achieve our objective against another team striving to prevent us from delivering a payload when my doorbell rings.
“One minute!” I shout at the door, never taking my eyes off the screen.
I push a button to talk to my team again.
“I gotta jump after this one. Pizza guy’s here and I need to eat.
Be sure to tune in to tomorrow’s stream to see the full phantom bunny queen in all her glory!
And remember, you all voted for this one, so the results are on you. ”
My teammates acknowledge me, but thirty seconds later, we lose our match. With a few keystrokes, I have my character idling on the main menu and I bound toward the door.
But when I pull it open, there’s just a tall, dark-haired man standing on my doorstep with his feet planted firmly on my Pusheen welcome mat and his massive thighs spread shoulders-width apart.
He looks braced to hand out some kind of indictment or haul me away in cuffs, judging by the way his sculpted, inked arms are crossed over a sizeable chest.
He looks like he’s ready to give me a good talking-to, and for a fleeting moment, I think I might enjoy it.
“Uhh…” My mouth hangs open and my brain stops operating as I stare dumbly at his shoulders. “Am I in trouble, officer?”
His eyebrows knot together over his cerulean blue eyes, and his face—dear God in heaven, his face—bears a scowl so dark it should not be turning me on right now. It’s the sort of face that makes me want to drop to my knees and rub my cheek against his—
“I’m not the police. I’m… I’m the guy you called.”
I blink and lean over to peer behind him. But he’s massive, so I spy the space between his shoulders and my doorframes to see no car and no pizza.
“Um, I ordered a medium Meat-mania with extra pepperoni and a side of wedges with double Ranch dressing.”
His scowl deepens, and the parts of me I thought were dead to the world suddenly spring to life, tingling with interest. “Did you or did you not order a fake boyfriend for the weekend?”
“Oh! Hold, one minute, please.” I reel backward and slam the door shut.
My heart thunders in my chest as I scramble for my phone.
I tap to open the browser and squint at the escort photograph that pulls up.
Tall? Yes. Blond? No. Muscled? Oh, definitely, but not like the slab of beef standing on my doorstep.
“Hello?” He raps his knuckles loudly against the door.
“One sec, I’m coming out.” When I reopen the door, I’ve got both arms extended. In one hand, I hold pepper spray, and in the other, my phone flashes the photo of the man I was expecting to show tonight.
The sexy man on my porch lifts his hands in a defensive stance and slowly backs up. The backs of his heels teeter on the edge of the steps as I step into the light and he takes in the shape of my bunny mask, the leather and lace of my dress.
Shit. I forgot I was dressed like an avenging phantom bunny queen. I don’t bother lifting my mask as I roll my shoulders back and take aim.
“Who are you, why don’t you match your photo online, and did you catfish me?”
“Did I—what? You called me, remember?” He lowers his arms and glares at me.
“Look, I didn’t mean to interrupt…” He pauses to glance meaningfully at my entire get-up, and I ignore what his searching hot gaze does to the points of my nipples.
Hopefully it’s dark enough that he doesn’t see it, too.
“Whatever this is. I just came here to tell you that you got the wrong guy. You called the wrong number, and you’ve got the wrong idea about all this. I’m not in the companion business.”
My ears burn, but I don’t lower my arms as I step off the welcome mat barefoot. “Yeah, okay. Fine. So why didn’t you say that before I sent you my home address?”
“You didn’t let me say anything! I couldn’t get a word in.”
I lift my chin and glare down the length of my bunny-mask nose. “You could’ve texted me back and explained.”
“Yeah, well,” he snorts and rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “I was curious, and I wanted to make a point. You shouldn’t hand out your personal information to just anyone. Who knows what kind of lunatic could’ve shown up here tonight.”
“You weren’t supposed to be just anyone.
” I lower my arms and lift my mask, letting it sit on top of my wild, unruly curls.
“You were supposed to be a professional hire with enough charm to make my spiteful ex realize I never even needed him.” I point at the photo of the beach bum, turn my face toward the porch light, and let out a heavy sigh.
“And I’m not an idiot, alright? I’ve got security. ”
I wave a hand at the camera mounted in a discreet corner of the porch, then nod in the direction of the property next door. “And I have people nearby who’d take notice if I started screaming bloody murder.”
“Hold on. Are you… Morrigan?” The beefcake peers at my face in shock.
My head jerks up, and I blink at him in surprise. “Uh, I’m Rosemary.”
“Rosemary O’Donnell, a two-time Illysia Champion and member of Empress Elite?”
My eyes dart left and right, and my hand tightens around the pepper spray as I slow raise it up. Is this a prank? Am I on-stream right now? Did Psykl0ne doxx me?
“Who’s asking?”
He laughs and smooths a hand down that rock-solid chest. “I’m Nicholas Cartwright, and I’ll be playing for the Soltero Beach Scorpions this season. I, uh, game in my free time. And a couple of years ago, at the Ontario eSports Open, I watched you kick ass all the way to the top.”