by Tamara Lush
He interrupts. “I’m sorry about your dad. I always remembered how he and your mom took me in. And how they were happy when we started dating that summer.”
“Diego, don’t.” My voice is sharp.
“Don’t what?”
“All of this, my dad, everything. It brings up super painful memories.”
“Yeah. Lots of memories. For me, too. He was like my own father for a couple of years. Better than my own father.”
I swallow. We stare at each other. There’s no air in the room.
“I never properly apologized to you. I owe that to you. I’m sorry, Cata.” His voice cracks.
It’s not true, the part about the apology. He had apologized for the photos — and then rejected me anyway. The memory of that time and talk of my dad’s death drags me down and I don't know what to say. It’s only been six months since Dad had a heart attack, and now that I’m home, I miss him a thousand times more.
My shoulders raise into a shrug and an old, sick feeling of shame keeps them lifted in tension. “Whatever. What were you doing in Hong Kong?”
He clears his throat. “I had to make an appearance at a pro gaming tour. I wasn’t playing, but the website is so popular, I was invited. The organizers paid for my tickets and hotel and everything.”
“The website? I’m obviously not keeping up with what’s going on here."
Diego inspects his thumb, where a dot of pizza sauce sits on the pad. He opens his mouth and put his thumb inside his full lips, staring at me with a hard, seductive look in his eyes as he sucks the sauce.
My breath catches, and a flash of heat spreads through my body. A memory of him doing the exact motion all those years ago, only with a different liquid – one from my very core – makes me dizzy. My fingers curl around the kitchen island.
Steady. Breathe.
My body still responds to him viscerally. Maybe more so now. And maybe my reaction to him now is so strong because I haven’t been with a guy in a while and I know what I’m missing. I’m lonely and sex-starved. Sure. That must be it.
He grins, and my stomach flutters disconcertingly.
“Gamerhouse. We play video games. All day, all night. Twenty-four seven. On weekends and holidays.”
My mouth opens wider. “Excuse me? Are you joking?”
He laughs as he crumples the napkin in his large hands and tosses it in my direction, onto the kitchen island. “That’s everyone’s reaction.”
“But, how…why?” I’m usually never at a loss for words.
“Here’s the deal. It was my idea. You obviously know how much I love gaming.”
I nod and smile, remembering the hours upon hours we spent together as kids, flopped on our bellies in front of a TV, consoles in hand. Back when we were friends, before we became more than friends.
“I was playing World of Warcraft a few years ago and I started streaming my games live on TV under the screen name Apathetic Fire. I made a lot of friends, actually acquaintances, and then I had like thousands of followers watching me play. So I thought about getting a couple of guys together and doing a full-time gamer channel, where people could tune in to watch us play new games, old games, whatever. We do game reviews. We sell ads. We also get donations. Money. Or gifts. Like the pizzas. They were from a fan.”
I nod slowly. “Apathetic Fire?” I say skeptically and Diego grins adorably, which somehow annoys me and turns me on.
“And Liam’s name is …” I struggle to recall the moniker. It’s stupid, that’s all I recall.
“Dracula’s Cyborg.”
“Right. And the other guy?”
Diego’s laughing hard now and he looks so cute, especially when he throws his head back. “Sawyer? He’s Romantic Cannibal.”
I wince. Jesus.
“What about Jake?” For some reason, he makes me the most uncomfortable of all, because I know damned well he saw those photos of me naked. He worked with Diego that summer at the game store.
“Jake fills in on the weekends. His name is Ghost. But he also likes to hang out here when he’s not working at the Apple Genius Bar in Fort Myers. You remember Jake, he worked with me at the—”
I flash him a hard stare as his voice trails off. He knows he’s bringing up a potential minefield of memories. Jake was our age, went to school with us, and worked with Diego at the game store that summer after graduation. He must have seen my photos. I’d tried to forget all of the possible people who'd seen them.
I quickly steer the subject away from Jake. “People pay to watch you guys play video games?”
I'm really out of touch because as much as I love video games, the idea seems a little too crazy to be real. I force a smile.
“Only guys would pay to watch another guy play video games.” I laugh weakly.
Diego’s face is now serious. “Yeah. They do pay us. We had a million unique visitors last month. We’re kind of celebrities in the gaming world. We have the cameras going downstairs all the time so—”
I interrupt, a wave of panic rising in my chest. “Was I just on camera? Am I on camera now?”
Diego shakes his head. “I asked to have them turned off. And right now, the cameras everywhere but the Den of Pleasure, uh, that’s what we call the room where we play games, are rolling but not live. We’re collecting footage for a possible reality show.”
I gawk, open mouthed. “A reality show?” I whisper.
“Crazy, right? Yeah. And we’re opening up the platform to other gamers. The business is getting big, and I’m in talks to sell it to, well, a pretty huge-ass company. I started a YouTube channel of gaming reviews; it’s already got hundreds of thousands of followers. And I’ve made enough in ads, product placements, and donations to buy this house. And a Porsche. And some investment property. My financial advisor says it’s a good move for me to diversify.” He shrugs, as if it’s no big deal.
Now all I can do is blink. I close my mouth and wonder if this is a joke. From the earnest look on Diego’s face, it isn’t.
In my less self-loathing moments, I had set aside the leaked photos and remembered Diego as the nerdy, sweet, shy boy who lived with his single mom in an apartment on the poorer, south side of the island. The guy who loved the movie Princess Bride as much as I did. The person who made me feel beautiful for the first, and possibly only, time in my life.
In trying to forget him, I had frozen him in time.
He's obviously moved on and become something very different. Some kind of gamer-geek millionaire. It’s not that I didn’t think he was capable of being a dot-com-startup mogul. I always knew he was. But his stratospheric success at a time when I’m at my lowest is more than a little shocking.
“Incredible.” I can’t think of anything more intelligent to say.
“Trust me, no one’s more surprised about the success of this than me,” he said, smiling bashfully. There’s the Diego I once knew: shy and sweet.
“Do those guys,” I jerk my thumb toward the door, unable to say their silly online names aloud, “Live here too?”
I see a hard flash in his eyes and remember that look, too. It’s one of jealousy.
“Liam lives in the apartment above the garage, and Sawyer lives in the pool house.”
My eyebrows toggle upwards. “I’m kind of surprised you’d let them live with you.”
“Why?”
“They reek of weed. And since your mom was…” my voice trailed off. I can’t bear to finish the sentence.
“An addict?” The muscles of his jaw bunch up.
“Yeah. That. Don’t tell me you smoke now.”
He shakes his head. “Hey, I don’t approve, and I still don’t indulge. And Sawyer doesn’t smoke. He’s goofy enough without drugs. Only Liam smokes.”
I nod. So I was right about the blonde surfer dude.
Diego continues. “But I’ve learned that you can’t change an addict. He’s entertaining online and is committed to the project, though. So I can’t hold his smoking against him if he shows u
p for work and helps me make money. ”
“And you?”
“Me, what?” His dark eyes challenge my stare and nearly take my breath away, they’re so intense.
“Where do you live in this whole compound?” I wave my hand erratically in the air.
He licks his bottom lip, making my heart skip a beat despite all common sense. “My bedroom’s upstairs. I have the whole upstairs, actually.”
I suck in a breath and Diego laughs softly.
“You just blushed. You could never hide a blush, you know that? You’re too pale.”
I roll my eyes. As if I didn’t know that from the way my cheeks felt like they were on fire. “Thanks for pointing that out.”
The fluttery feeling in my stomach is back and all I want is to leave.
“So, I have to get back to the restaurant. Scott’s expecting me back,” I say, breezily, trying to ignore his cute grin. “It was great seeing you.”
“I’ll walk you out.”
I watch his tall, muscular frame from behind as I follow him to the door. For a guy who sits on the sofa playing video games eight hours a day, he has an incredible body. I imagine tracing his muscular shoulders with the tips of my fingers until he shivered and got goosebumps. Running my tongue over the taut, dark-olive hued skin, exploring every inch of his arms and hands and fingers. Just like I once did.
He flings the door open, jolting me from my fantasy. “Good, it’s stopped raining.”
Turning to me, he touches the strand of my hair that aren't secured in my ponytail. His fingers slide down the lock slowly. “Your hair is lighter. Longer. And you have different glasses. I like the black frames. They make your eyes look bigger. More blue. Kitty-with-the-blue-eyes.”
I ignore that last bit. It’s what he always used to say. And he’s still got that lazy-thick New York-Spanish drawl. It makes him sound rough around the edges, and the tone is completely devastating to my ears, especially when combined with the fact that he’s the smartest person I’ve ever met. He sounds like a bad boy. A brilliant bad boy with a streetwise accent.
Kitty-with-the-blue-eyes.
I shrug, hoping that my hair doesn't feel as oily as it smells. A wave of shame washes over me. This guy helped ruin my reputation. I’d been valedictorian, for fuck’s sake, then I was the island whore who took slutty photos of herself. And now I’m worried about how my hair feels? He is close, too close, and for a moment, I wonder if he’ll bend to kiss me.
Wonder and want.
“You’ve lost weight, Cata,” he blurts. His voice is a little too loud.
It’s true, because I haven’t had any appetite since getting laid off. I flash him a screw-you glare and he glances at me, panicked. I can tell he’s nervous. This is the old Diego, the guy who sometimes says awkward things at inopportune times without thinking, things that he thinks are compliments but come off as weird or offensive. Before, I was the only one who understood it, but now, I’m in no mood to accommodate his quirks. I’m too confused.
He stammers. “I mean, you know, you know how I liked, oh, never mind.”
I remember what he liked. Grabbing handfuls of my ass, hard, telling me that he loved my body. I sigh.
“You’re beautiful, still,” he says softly, then laughs. “Oh, and here.”
Diego reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. Opens it and takes out a hundred dollar bill from the wad inside. “Thanks for delivering the pizzas.”
“Are you joking?” I spit out.
He looks at me earnestly. “No! I’d give anyone who delivered fifty pizzas a hundred dollar tip. It’s not because it’s you. I mean, well, you know.”
He stares at my wet sneakers.
See what I mean? Inappropriate. Awkward. Like when he told me five years ago that it was better for me to go to New York and forget about him. How he pushed me away. How he didn’t return my emails or calls.
Now, maybe he knows exactly what he’s doing and how this little gesture with the cash appears. I don’t know, and I'm dying to leave. I pluck the money from his fingers reluctantly, huffing out a laugh at the awkwardness of it all. “Thank you.”
He tilts his head, and his eyes are a deep brown velvet. “It was good seeing you, Cata.”
I step into the night. My insides are shaky, and my shoes are still wet and so is at least one other place on my body.
As I drive to the restaurant, I’m near tears. Dammit. Why did I have to see him now, when I’m at my lowest? In my fantasies, I was going to run into him one Christmas, when I was home on a visit. After I’d been promoted to management at some website. I’d be perfectly dressed in a sophisticated and sexy black dress and I’d have some handsome New York intellectual media-type wearing interesting glasses and edgy footwear at my side. This is my boyfriend, I had planned to say to Diego. Oh, yes, we live in a loft in New York City. Yes, it’s true. We’re engaged. And you?
Now I’ll never prove anything to him other than the fact that I’m a certified loser.
Chapter Five
CATALINA
I pull over in a convenience store parking lot and reach for my phone. My best friend, Jessica Clarke, immediately picks up and her voice fills my car via the Bluetooth speaker.
“Hey, girl. I’m up to my elbows in flour. Want to come over and sample this new cronut recipe I’m trying out?”
I groan. Jessica’s been into baking ever since she and Leo got engaged. Leo owns a cafe on the island, and Jess is trying to learn how to bake. She’s pretty dismal at it, and bless Leo’s heart for being so patient. Her last attempt at mini-muffins turned out more like small piles of dry crumbs held together by paper wrappers. Jessica is throwing herself into this newfound domesticity. Nesting, she calls it. Painful, is more like it.
She's tried to push her creations on me several times since I've been home, each time worse than the last.
“Jess. No. No cronuts. Why the fuck didn’t you tell me that Diego was back on the island?” I practically yell.
“What?” she squeals. “Hold on.” I hear her call out to her fiancé. “Leo, can you take over? I need to talk to Cat. Yes, it’s important. More important than the cronut. The dough looks a little watery and smells yeasty, did you notice?”
I wince and make a face in the darkness.
There’s a muffled noise. “Okay, I’m here. What? Diego? I didn’t know he was back. How did you find out? Where did you see him? Did you talk to him?”
I tell her about delivering the pizzas and Jess giggles.
“Shut up. It’s not funny.”
“It is funny. Fifty pizzas. God. And he does what? Plays video games for a living? It’s like every guy’s dream job. Good for him for figuring out how to make money that way.”
“Um, Jess? I need you on my side here. I had wanted to prove to Diego that I was over him.”
“Well, are you?”
I sigh and pull out of the parking space. My family’s pizza shop is only a couple of blocks away. Not far from Leo’s bakery, in fact.
“I don’t know. I thought I’d finally gotten over the humiliation of the photos. But he’s the one who wanted to break up.”
“But Cat, he was right. You were going to New York for school. He was staying behind.”
“He could’ve come with me.”
“Could’ve gone with you to do what? He didn’t have a job, wasn’t accepted in school anywhere except community college in Fort Myers. And I’m sure his childhood memories of New York weren’t great. He was pre-emptively breaking up because he thought you’d leave him.”
I sigh. “I guess. He hugged me.”
“That’s a good sign.”
“Is it?”
“Did you hug him back?” I can tell she’s smiling by the way she sounds. Jess can’t hide when she’s happy.
“Yeah. But seeing him brought back all those old feelings of shame about the photos.”
“You need to get over that. Everyone sexts now. Nobody cares. Like anyone even remembers your
photos.”
I mumble an affirmative answer. Jess is all about second chances because she and Leo rekindled their relationship in a somewhat grand way. But their situation was different, like a fairy tale. Her mom and Leo’s dad kept them apart.
She wasn’t publicly shamed like I was. She wasn’t rejected like I was.
I’m now parked in back of my brother’s restaurant, and all I want is to see if there are any more deliveries so I can get this night over with.
“Whatever. We’ll see. Let’s get drinks later in the week, ‘kay? Call you tomorrow.”
It’s raining again, and I slip out of my car and run through the wet. I stomp into the restaurant. It’s closed now, and thankfully all the customers are gone. Hopefully, there aren’t any deliveries, either.
“What’s that face all about?” My brother calls out.
I let out a half-growl, half-scream out of frustration. “You’re not gonna believe this.”
Scott’s girlfriend Amber is there, too, and she pauses from wiping down a table.
“Try us,” Amber says. “We had a guy come in tonight who was so obviously high on those bath salt drugs, we had to call the cops because he was threatening to eat people’s fingers. Or maybe it was flakka. That’s the new drug. Flakka.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard of it. Appetizing. That must have been good for business. Are there any more deliveries?”
Amber shakes her head. Of all the girls my brother’s dated over the years, I like her the best. She’s a part time yoga teacher and seems to be the only one who can soothe Scott and his spastic nature. Since they became exclusive a year ago, he’s become something of a Zen master. This is amusing since he – along with Diego – had been the biggest shoot-em-up gamer, all jacked up on Mountain Dew and Twizzlers while playing Call of Duty and Deer Hunter.
“It looks like you got drenched. Your makeup’s all over your face,” my brother chimes in. “And no, no more deliveries tonight.”
“Thank God.” I squint into a mirror on the wall that advertises beer and make a disgusted noise. “I look like a fucking clown.”
