Fireworks: A Holiday Bad Boy Romance (54 page)

"Want to
start with the stereotypes?" he asked.

I laughed.
"Yeah, I guess that's the freshest topic in my mind."

The blogger turned
on a digital recorder and placed it on the coffee table. "Your image
stands out amongst gamers and it is the main strength of your success. Would
you agree?"

"I stand out
only because my avatar looks exactly like me. Lots of players love to form new
faces, entirely new bodies and species, when they enter the world of
Dark Flag
. To me, it is more fun to
conquer that world as myself," I said.

"Not many
other players do that. Another stand out happens to be a close friend of yours.
The human avatar known as Arrowa?"

I thought of Quinn
in my bed. The thought was like a sanctuary. I could not let even a
well-intentioned blogger touch her. "I certainly do not judge other people
for creating avatars that are completely different from their real selves.
Personally, though, I think my identical avatar gives me strength. I put more
into the game because it is my face on the Black Fields."

He noted my
sidestep but moved on. "And it’s that personal touch that has led you to
be one of the most sponsored players."

"That and my
exceptional grasp of
Dark Flag
. The
creators allowed the game to evolve depending on how players use it and so far,
they believe my leadership is expanding the game in a positive direction,"
I said.

"There is
talk of your clan members also getting sponsorships though there has been some
jealousy among the ranks. Is that true? Are your clan members upset at the
arrival of newbie Arrowa?" he asked.

"I think the
mention of the clan makes it clear why there is jealousy. There will always be
jockeying for position amongst a clan. History bears that out to be true and it
is proven in
Dark Flag
." I
refused to let him get any closer to Quinn.

"I only ask
because jealousy is a powerful motive. You've recently come under scrutiny from
the police. They are playing off the stereotype of the gamer as drug-user to
produce search warrants and raid your apartment," he said.

"Unfortunately,
no matter what I do to bring an open and honest face to gaming, there will
always be prejudiced people. I'm not sure where the misinformation is coming
from, but I do not use drugs or indulge in that stereotypical lifestyle,"
I said. In my head, I could hear my manager applauding.

"So, it could
be possible that jealousy is motivating someone to set you up?" the
blogger asked. "It was noticed at the last tournament that there is
tension between the Green Witch Ayaan and the Human Arrowa. Two female clan
members vying for the attention of Light Slayer?"

"If that were
true, they would target each other, don't you think? But let me make it clear
there is no drama there.
Dark Flag
is
a complex game but not a forum to play out love triangles or soap operas,"
I said.

The blogger sat
back and frowned. He was disappointed I was not producing any juicy quotes or
comments. I should have known that any interview would focus mainly on Arrowa.
Encouraging Quinn in real life was one thing, but in the world of
Dark Flag,
it caused much larger
ripples.

I hoped that
whatever Quinn's new plan was, she had taken into account the dual life of
Arrowa. If she was planning to enter the world of professional gaming, I would
have to protect us both in the game and in the real world.

"I think that
about covers it," I said. "If you want to email me any follow up
questions, I'd be happy to answer. Also, I'm sure my manager told you, I need
to see a proof of the article before you can post it to your blog."

Again, the blogger
frowned. He stopped his digital recorder and stood up. "Thanks, Mr. Redd.
I'm not really sure what shape the article will be able to take."

"Stick to the
whole breaking down stereotypes angle," I said. "Unless you're going
for your own stereotype of gossip-seeking tabloid blogger."

"I'm not like
that," he said.

"Exactly."
I shut the door behind him.

I checked my
messages again and found a follow up from my manager. He sent the address of a
local clinic that would perform a drug test and put it on record. I could stop
by anytime I wanted. I tried not to throw my phone across the room.

There was another
knock at the door. I balled up my fist. If one blogger knew my address, then my
manager had opened up a channel for other gossip-seekers to flood right to my
door. I stood in the hallway not sure whether to tell the person to go away or
pretend not to be home. The knock sounded again. Not the hammering of the
police, so I took a step closer.

"Who is
it?" I called.

"FBI, Mr.
Redd, open up. We've been asked to do a follow-up by the local police
force," a gruff voice said.

I ripped open the
door, prepared for a fight.

"Not
funny?" Quinn asked.

It took a moment
for me to unclench my fist. Her peals of laughter helped. So did the light and
sweet kiss she planted on my cheek before she stepped inside.

"I'm sorry, I
didn't mean to upset you. I just couldn't help myself. Remember that time in
high school when you pretended to be the killer from that scary movie?"
she asked. "Yeah, maybe a little payback was in order."

"Stopping my
heart and choking the breath out of me? Is that what you call payback?" I
asked.

Quinn wrapped her
arms around me and kissed me. I felt her smile against my lips. "Now I
feel bad. Maybe I should make it up to you?"

I swung her
farther into the apartment and shut the door behind us. "Did you see
anyone outside? A weasel with glasses and a digital recorder? Did he see
you?"

Her smile slipped
and her arms tightened. "Are you okay? I checked out some of the forums.
You can't let it get to you."

"No, it’s
just my manager and I took your advice. I just got interviewed, but he was more
interested in gossip about Light Slayer and Arrowa," I said.

"Oooh, people
suspect our avatars are having a steamy affair? How sexy."

"It’s not
good, Quinn. Sorry, but I can't handle any more gossip right now," I said.
"And you've got me worried with this whole mysterious new plan thing. If
you want to take a serious shot at professional gaming, then you need to be
worried about the chatroom gossip too. This is all coming dangerous close to
affecting my career."

She dropped her
arms and pulled me to the couch. "I know. I'm sorry. And if it would help,
Arrowa can disappear from
Dark Flag
."

"Wait, what?
You don't have to do that. I know you love it and you're getting really
good," I said.

"That's just
it," Quinn said. She grabbed my hands. "Can we take a break for just
one second and talk about some good news?"

"Yes,
please."

"Alright. So,
that last tournament when I managed to get the Green Witch on the run got me
noticed by a lot of players. It also got me noticed by some game
creators," she said. "To be honest, I was hoping to use that to
leverage myself into the
Dark Flag
tournaments that pay money. But now that you mention the whole problem with the
gossip, I'm glad I took a different offer."

"What offer?
Are you sure it’s good?"

Quinn crossed her
arms. "I've been asked to test out a new game. I get paid per hours logged
and there are bonuses for the levels I crack. I told them it would be more fun
if I could play with a friend and they agreed. I have two new log-ins all ready
to go."

My shoulders
relaxed, then melted as Quinn reached over and rubbed my neck.

"See? I'm not
as helpless as everyone thinks I am. I'm not encroaching on your territory or
messing up your career. We can have a little fun," she said.

"Is that all
this is?"

She tipped her
head and looked away. "This is complicated, but only if we talk about it.
How about we play instead?"

I handed over my
computer and the game console controllers. Quinn brushed her wavy hair out of
the way and set everything up.

"What's the
game about?" I asked.

"I'm not
going to lie, it’s a lot like
Dark Flag
,
except set on Mars. The colony is expanding and there is potential for players
to influence the world, just like in
Dark
Flag
. And there are aliens, meteorites, and all sorts of complicated space
dangers."

She made my avatar
a pock-faced engineer and herself a middle-aged doctorate in astrophysics.
"What, no glamorous astronauts or super-sexy scientists?" I asked.

"That's
another thing. In this game, your only choice is to be human. Sure, you can
augment your avatar, but they keep the choices plain. It’s all about survival
and humanity," Quinn said.

"And starting
over," I said. "I like that."

"Exactly,"
Quinn handed me a controller. "Here, we can start over and no one knows
us."

We explored the
Mars landscape. I had almost forgotten what it felt like. Video games were
supposed to be an escape. Now, as Quinn and I worked together, tried and
failed, and fought our way through surprising problems, it all came back to me.
The whole reason I loved my job was that I could show people how to be who they
really wanted, even if the real world kept telling them no.

"This is
good, right?" she asked.

"The
best," I said. "I really needed this. Thank you."

She moved closer
on the couch and curled up against me. "Is it wrong that I always really
wanted this?"

"No. Our
timing was just off. Other people got in the way," I replied.

Quinn shook her
head, her eyes sad for a moment. "She also brought us together and kept us
together," she said.

"But you make
me better," I said. I leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Thank you
for always making me better."

"Even on
Mars?" Quinn asked with a smile.

I nodded.
"But especially here and now."

CHAPTER
NINETEEN

Quinn

The
game was interesting and
I loved exploring the Mars scenery with Owen. I was bursting to tell him about
my plans for the money I was earning. First, I wanted to see the worried furrow
in the middle of his forehead ease. He was so wrapped up in his own problems
that I was not sure the time was right.

"Watch out
for that crater," I said. We both pulled our avatars back sharply.

"Thanks,
saving me again," he said.

"I don't know
when you think I saved your life," I said.

"Right now.
All I could think about was who might be setting me up and what would happen.
All the hypotheticals were killing me," Owen said.

"So a little
imaginary exploration of Mars was just the right thing?" I asked.

Owen smiled and
wrapped an arm around me. "Maybe it’s more than just the Mars game,"
he said.

"Like
what?" I paused my player.

Owen turned to me
and opened his mouth to say something. Then, he shook his head. Instead, he
tugged my shoulders closer and pressed a light kiss against my lips. I did not
pull back. Wrapped up close next to him on the couch was exactly where I wanted
to be.

"You're okay
with this?" he asked. Another trio of gentle kisses brushed my lips.

"Okay with
what?"

"I know it
has to feel a little strange. I don't want you to think I'm taking advantage of
you. Or using you to ease some guilt. Or, I don't know, whatever other people
say about us," Owen said.

I hovered a half
an inch from his face. "I don't want to think. I just want to feel because
this feels right to me."

Owen tossed aside
his controller and brought his other hand up to cup my cheek. This time his
kiss was light but did not brush past. The heat built between our searching
mouths. He tangled his hand in my hair and tipped my head back to deepen the
kiss.

I could not get
close enough to him. I turned from cuddling against his side to sitting astride
his lap. Owen's arms wrapped around my back and pulled me closer. This time was
different, the heat building slower. It seemed to radiate gently from my chest.
My heart beat long, throbbing pulses against him. I worried that I knew what
that meant.

"It feels
right to me too," Owen said. "So, absolutely right and I waited too
long."

I felt his hand
push gently against my side, asking permission. I moved in the direction he
suggested and lay down on the couch. For the longest time, we enjoyed the warm
friction, our bodies rubbing together as the kisses grew longer.

Soon, I was
breathless, breathing from him as our lips could not part. His hands were hot
on my body as he explored all the places we pressed together. We were too warm,
but not close enough, longing to hold each other connected.

Owen undressed me
slowly, the magnetic pull of his gaze heating every inch of skin he bared. He
let me pull his shirt over his hard shoulders, then he slipped free of his jeans.
He brought his body against me slowly, the warmth touching me like sunlight.
His agate-blue eyes held mine as we came together and our gaze did not break
even as our bodies took over.

For all the
pulsing desire, it was slow, as if Owen needed to savor every small sensation.
The pressure of him, the anticipation, the wild longing soothed by the
possessive look in his eyes, brought me to shattering before him. He drank up
my shuddering cries, brushed my hair off my neck. I felt him whispering there
as he rode my aftershocks, words he could not yet say out loud. Words I
understood anyway, saying things that made my heart sing and my body surge
around him again as he poured himself into me.

We lay for a long
time afterwards without moving. His lips stopped their soundless words and
instead, kissed the curve of my neck. My hands drifted up and down the contours
of his back.

And we both held
on to each other. Every throbbing beat of my heart was answered by his and
neither of us moved away.

When Owen finally
leaned back on his arms, he gazed down and caught tears in the corners of my
eyes. He kissed them away. I could not say anything and he did not try.
Instead, we pulled each other up and got dressed.

Somewhere between
balancing to put on socks and buttoning up shirts wrong, we started laughing. I
had never felt so free or at ease. It was like the whole world was anchored
securely beneath my feet.

"Wait, shhh.
Do you hear something?" Owen asked. He was still struggling to put on his
left sock.

I gave his shoulder
a prod and giggled as he toppled back onto the couch. "No. Please tell me
you are not paranoid the police are going to bust in the door again."

"No, sorry. I
just thought I heard voices," he said.

"I mean, I
know I'm good, but I didn't think I was that good," I said.

Owen snagged my
waist and dragged me onto the couch where he tickled me mercilessly. I had just
struggled free and ran for the kitchen when the apartment door sprang open.
Jasper stumbled in with two overflowing grocery bags.

"Snacks and
supplies. The alcohol's still in the trunk of my car," he said. He stopped
and eyed the both of us. "But, never mind. You finished up whatever is
going on and I'll get it." He dropped the groceries in the entryway and
disappeared back down the hallway.

"Supplies?"
I asked. "For what?"

"Who knows?
He mentioned having a few beers with me and hashing out the whole police search
problem," Owen said.

I brushed the
tangles out of my hair with my fingers and fanned my red hot cheeks.
"Boys' night or can I stay? I was thinking, you do have pasta here. I
think there's enough stuff in your cupboards that I could make a sauce."

Owen came up
behind me in the kitchen. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my neck.
"That sounds perfect. I'll get rid of Jasper."

Unfortunately,
Jasper returned with four friends. They carried more than just a six-pack of
beer. Soon, an entire party spread was all over the kitchen island. Jasper
turned on the apartment sound system and music took over.

"We can't let
them see they've gotten to us, man," Jasper said to Owen. "Don't
worry, I invited all the neighbors. Maybe we can find out who’s been sending
the bad vibes our way."

"No. This is
a terrible idea," Owen said. He turned the volume down. "This is the
opposite of what we should be doing."

"Come on,
man, let go a little. They didn't turn up anything during the searches, they've
got nothing on us. A party is not illegal and frankly, I think you could use a
little fun. Though, you do look remarkably looser than earlier," Jasper
said. He winked at me.

I tried not to
gag. Something about Owen's roommate had never felt right. He told big exciting
stories with details that did not quite match up. From what Owen said, Jasper
was a talented website designer with a promising freelance career, but I had
never seen one scrap of evidence that he actually worked.

A group of five
more people filed into the apartment. Two were friends of Jasper's, but the
other three were local gamers. Owen greeted them with big hugs and smiles.
Maybe Jasper was right. A night spent surrounded by friends would make Owen
feel a lot more supported.

"Everyone's
read the chatrooms and they have ideas for what we should do," Owen said.
He brought me a beer and leaned against the kitchen counter next to me. "I
hate to say it, but maybe Jasper is right. I'm worrying about things that
haven't happened and probably won't."

"I'll drink
to that," I said. I slipped an arm around Owen and was relieved when he
did the same.

It was one thing
to feel so connected to him when we were alone, but it was still hard for us to
be together in front of people. Most of his friends had met Sienna and they
knew who I was. It was just something we were going to have to get past
together and Owen's arm around me helped.

The apartment started
to fill up and Owen saw people he knew everywhere. I was content to stand back
in the kitchen and observe while he made tracks back and forth through the
growing crowd. His friends were there, but Jasper's eclectic guests soon
outnumbered them. He claimed most were clients, but many did not strike me as
flourishing business owners that had hired Jasper to design their websites. In
fact, I recognized a few as regular burn-outs from my high school.

I was making my
way towards them to ask how they knew Jasper when someone caused a scene in the
doorway. Anya arrived in a skin tight green dress. The
Dark Flag
players applauded as they recognized her Ayaan costume,
minus the green scaly skin. I wished she had done the makeup because without
it, she was devastatingly beautiful. Every eye was drawn to her.

Even Owen looked.
I watched as he accepted her kiss on the cheek and clinging hug. They talked
closely for a minute and then Owen kissed her on the cheek. I was glad when he
moved away from her and came directly over to me, but there was still a hard
knot in my throat, and I could not speak.

"Anya is
sorry about the whole mess with the chatrooms. She's going to help track down
who started the rumor," Owen said.

"That's
really nice of her," I said. I wanted to point out it was also a
convenient way to cover up if she was the one who had started them in the first
place. The jealous thought was hard to tamp down, but I swallowed hard.

Owen noticed and
he put an arm around my shoulders. "Jasper invited her," he said.

"Jasper
invited everyone."

"But I really
only want to hang out with you," Owen said.

"Then how
about we ditch the party and go somewhere? It’s a clear night. I bet the stars
will be out on the trail."

"Everyone
came over to help," Owen said. "It would be rude to leave now. Plus,
I feel like I haven't partied in forever and I've never really partied with
you. Don't you want to have a few drinks and a good time?"

"Yes, but
this just doesn't feel like the best place to do it," I said.

"Now who’s
the one being paranoid?" he asked. He hip-checked me.

I pushed him back
and had to admit that I was looking at everyone as if they were suspects.
"Fine. I'd love another beer."

Owen opened the
refrigerator and handed me one before a few of Jasper's friends asked for drinks
too.

"How do you
know Jasper?" I asked as we all stood around the kitchen island.

"Um, through
work?" one said.

"Really?"
I asked. "He designed your website? Jasper's kind of secretive about his
work. I'd love to see what he did for you."

"Website design?
Isn't that like super brainy? That's what J does?" the other friend, a
lanky heavy-lidded young man asked his friend. "That's cool."

Owen was too busy
brainstorming a new mission with two of his clan members to notice the strange
conversation.

"When did you
meet Jasper?" I asked.

"A while
back," the first one said. He was noticeably more sober than his friend.

"Yeah, like
last week at the grocery store," the lanky one said.

#

It
took a few long conversations about
Dark
Flag
and one awkward explanation of how we met before I was able to pull
Owen aside for a private conversation.

"Have you
ever seen any of Jasper's work?" I asked.

"Oh, Quinn,
please. Do I have to think about this now?" He looked over to where Jasper
was loudly entertaining a knot of women with his imitation of a Vegas showgirl
he once met. "He's just one of those guys that talks himself up. So what
if he doesn't want people to see his work? It’s probably all boring corporate
stuff."

"Do any of
these people look like corporate clients?"

Owen shook his
head. "You don't invite those kind of clients to a party like this. These
are probably the IT guys and computer geeks he met while on the job."

I hated to admit
how much sense that made. "Alright, fine. But you have to admit something
feels off about your roommate."

Owen slammed back
the rest of his beer. "Oh my God, I think I know what it is," he
said. "Jasper reminds you of Trent. Think about it. He's the life of the
party, he's always meeting new people and bringing them along, and his stories
are always just a bit over the top."

Again, it was
impossible to admit how much sense that made. "What made you think of that
wild theory?"

"They
actually met the other day. Remember that awful dinner party at your
parents’?" Owen asked. "Jasper met him out at the club that night.
How's that for insane coincidence?"