by Tamara Lush
“It’s the risk we take. It’s all because we’re fairly popular.”
“Fairly popular?” I scoff. “I read that huge article last night about you on Wired.”
Diego grinned. “Come on, you didn’t try to look me up over the last five years?”
I shrug and smile. “I did, but I never found anything. You’re invisible under your real name. I thought you’d disappeared in Puerto Rico. I didn’t know you called yourself Apathetic Fire.”
He extends his hand and twists a lock of my hair around his finger. My breath hitches and he says my name three times.
“I don’t have an Internet presence under my real name. I’m too private.”
I step toward him, hoping he’ll kiss me.
Just then, the door bursts open. It’s Sawyer. I back away from Diego so quickly that my hair gets tangled in his finger. I let out an unladylike grunt at the same time Sawyer shouts at us.
“Dude, guess what I found…oh, whoops. Sorry.”
Diego practically leaps out of the closet. I can only assume he’s embarrassed by me. Sighing, I stumble out, in time to see Diego shaking his head.
“A dog? What?” Diego says.
As if on cue, a bulging-eyed, drooling, black-and white pooch bounds into the room. I cry out and kneel. I’ve always loved dogs and had one in high school. Bobby died of old age my freshman year of college, and I’ve longed for a pet ever since.
“Not any dog, a French bulldog,” I say in a silly voice. The dog’s entire body wriggles with joy. “You’re a good beastie.”
“You’re not going to believe this,” Sawyer says excitedly. “I was driving on the interstate when I saw a car far in front of me stop and then open the door. Someone in the passenger seat tossed the dog out, then drove away.”
Diego lets out a disgusted snort. “Assholes,” he says.
I hug the dog to my chest and stroke it.
“So I pulled over and called to him, and the dog ran right to me. I couldn’t leave it,” Sawyer says.
“Of course you couldn’t. What a good dog.” I kiss the top of the dog’s head, and look up with pleading eyes at Diego, who’s gazing down at the dog and me. “Can we keep him? I’ll bring him home with me at night. He’ll keep me company at night.”
Diego’s eyes glitter. “Yes, we can keep him,” Diego said, letting out a mock sigh. He sank to his knees on the floor near us.
“Is the dog a him?” Sawyer asks.
I check and grin. “Nope.”
“If you stop kissing her, we can figure out a name,” Diego teases.
“What? Are you jealous?” I kiss the top of the dog’s head again while looking into Diego’s brown eyes.
“Maybe,” he murmurs.
“Zelda,” I say. Diego will know the significance of that. The Legend of Zelda was our favorite video game in high school. We spent most of our freshman year playing it together.
I stroke the dog’s back soothingly.
“Zelda it is,” he says, patting the dog’s soft fur. His fingers collide with mine and when he slides his entire hand over mine, I shiver.
Chapter Thirteen
DIEGO
The true test for Cata comes in three, two, one…
“I’m going downstairs to game for my shift,” I tell her. I need to find out if she wants to go online and introduce herself to the fans. Maybe it’s too soon. I’m worried about how they’ll react, and how she’ll react to them. The guys online can be harsh and are usually crude.
“That’s so odd to hear you say that. Gaming as a shift job,” she laughs, and I do, too.
“Yeah, the good part is, I don’t want to play at all during the other sixteen hours of the day.”
“I can imagine. And at least when you have a girlfriend someday, she won’t complain about how much time you spend gaming.”
I nod. I don’t think it’s sunk in for Cata that I want her, and only her, as my girlfriend. I open my mouth to tell her this but remind myself that we’re just getting reacquainted. “So, you’re free to hang out here in the office and get organized. Whatever you need. It’s only your first day, so take it easy.”
She’s at the desk I bought for her, in front of the new laptop I purchased. Swiveling to face me, she grins. “Thank you for setting everything up for me.” Her hand sweeps around the workstation, which also includes a vase of daisies on the top shelf. I remembered that daisies are her favorite flower.
Zelda’s under the desk, lying at Cata’s feet. The little dog sighs with contentment.
I’m sitting in a chair near Cata and swivel to look at the dog. I know how you feel; I want to say to Zelda. This whole moment, with Cata looking happy in my house, makes me feel exactly the same way. Content. Proud, even. Like everything I never had, everything I wished for, has finally come true.
“Um, so hey,” I begin, jiggling my knee at warp speed. “What do you think about introducing yourself online?”
I’m hesitant because I don’t want her thinking that I’m using her as a prop in our Big Brother-like experiment. And I don’t want her offended if the guys say something crude. But then again, she will end up online at some point. It’s better to introduce her to our fans sooner, rather than later. Get them used to her.
“You could come down and game with me a little bit. Show your face to the regulars.”
A flash of panic crosses her face, and then she nods enthusiastically. Maybe a little too enthusiastically.
“Yeah. I’ll do it.”
I grin. “Do you want a gamer name?”
She tilts her head adorably and makes the sexy pout. I want to kiss her.
“No,” she shakes her head. “I’ll go with my real name. I’m going to own this. It’ll be better for my resume, I think. What game are you playing today, anyway?”
“Let’s play Zelda, in honor of the dog.”
“You don’t only play new games?”
“We can do whatever we want. We’re not professional gamers. People watch us more for our personalities than our gaming skills. If I were a pro gamer, I’d be on the road, touring.”
We go downstairs, and I gently touch the small of her back with my fingers. Before we enter the gaming room – the guys and I call it The Den of Pleasure – I take her elbow and draw her close to whisper in her ear.
“Some of the guys online might be kind of crude at first. Don’t pay any attention.”
She smiles and shrugs. “I think I can handle it. I’ve dealt with worse.”
I squeeze her arm and point toward the Den.
Liam’s on the sofa, and when he sees us, takes off the headset and bows with fanfare.
“The throne is yours,” he says, waving at the plush brown sofa. He then turns to Cata and sweeps his hand over the couch cushion. “Milady.”
As Liam walks out, Cata laughs and curtseys. She’s so cute. I haven’t stopped staring at her all day. Being near her bare legs and her loose, hair is driving me crazy. I had every intention of kissing her in the closet before Sawyer had walked in.
I sink into the sofa and attach the headset to my scalp. I can hear the fans already squawking.
“Who’s the hottie?” one yells.
“BABE,” another types in the chat room.
I reach over to the coffee table and grab the extra headset. Cata sits next to me, thigh to thigh, and slips the headset on.
I’m now Apathetic Fire. A different person.
“Okay dudes. Calm the fuck down. This is the newest member of Gamerhouse. Her name’s Catalina. She’ll be doing our social media from now on. Don’t fuck with her – she’s a better player than all of you.”
The fans, almost all guys, trip over themselves to say hello. Everyone's pretty respectful so far, and I’m impressed. I feel Cata relax next to me.
“Hey Catalina,” one male voice says. “It's Ghost.
“Hi Ghost!”
“You don’t remember me, do you?”
The smile on her face freezes. “Uh, no.”
“Jake from high school?”
I watch Cata’s posture get straighter and stiffer. “Oh, yeah.”
“Remember, we had algebra together freshman year.”
I tap her on the knee, but what I really want is to hug her and tell her it’s all good.
She nods slowly, and I know she’s probably thinking that Jake saw her photos. He’d sworn to me that he hadn’t.
“Hi, Jake, uh Ghost. Welcome.” Her jaw clenches and I can tell she's being brave. I’m proud of her when she smiles again.
“Welcome home to you, too. You look great.”
Cata clears her thread and the conversation turns to Zelda the dog. We all banter. Cata’s holding her own. She’s even making them laugh with a story about how we played video games as kids. How she used to beat me after hours-long marathons.
One fan known as Turtle, a guy who says he’s in California with a really stoned-sounding voice, pipes up. “Damn, AF,” – that’s what they all call me, AF, for Apathetic Fire, “I like this woman. You might want to think about letting all those Tinderellas go and marry Catalina. She’s gorgeous and smart.”
I bark out a laugh, but stop when I see Cata’s tense body. I don’t want Cata to think that I’m a player, but I also don’t want to let on to Turtle and any of the fans that I’m lame, either. So I change the subject.
“Okay losers, let’s play—“
Cata interrupts. “Okay, guys, I have a lot to do to get our Twitter account in shape. So I’m outta here,” she says. Her voice is friendly, but I can feel annoyance pouring off her. I’ve always been able to detect her moods, and now, her whole body is cold and hard as a stone.
“Hit me up on Twitter, dudes. Nice meeting all y’all.”
She pulls the headset off and gives me a tiny wave. I try not to watch her walk out of the room because I don’t want the guys to know that I’m worried about what she’s thinking.
We start playing Metal Gear Solid 3 – no need to play Zelda if Cata’s not joining us – and we launch into a bank raid.
I play for an hour, but I’m distracted. Wondering what Cata’s doing in the office. Which is next to my bedroom. The players online are talking about the raid both in my headset and in the chat room. My phone flashes. It’s Cata.
I’m headed home. My mom’s leaving for Maine later in the week, and I need to help her pack. Thanks for a great first day.
I can’t let her leave like this. I need to see her, but I can’t leave the game. I can’t hit pause and do what I want, which is kiss her goodbye. So I take out my phone.
Are you still going to the Sloppy Iguana with Amber tonight?
She’d mentioned her plans earlier when we were in the office. I was hoping she’d change her mind and hang around the house until my shift was done so we could eat together. Then I’d take her into my room so we could get properly reacquainted.
Yes. Still going to the Iguana.
I wait for her to ask me to join her, but she doesn’t. Which sends my heart into my stomach. Our kiss yesterday, combined with our day of flirting, made me think she wanted me.
“AF, what the fuck, stop daydreaming about that chick and help us out,” one of the gamers online yelps.
I mutter something profane in response and fiddle with my online rifle.
I don’t quite understand why she was so upset by the fan’s Tinder comment. Everyone uses the app. Maybe she was jealous that I’ve had other girlfriends. It’s understandable because if I dwell on the idea that other men have touched her, a surge of jealousy rips through me. Intellectually, though, I know six years have passed since I’ve seen her, and we’ve both done a lot of living in that time.
I sigh into the headset.
“You’re sucking today, AF,” a fan says.
I say something crude and detect an in-game enemy. I put him in a chokehold and slit his throat.
“Suck this,” I laugh, and others online do, too.
But my mind is still on Cata. I don’t really understand women, to tell the truth. Then again, I’ve only had one real relationship in my life. And I screwed that up royally.
I camouflage myself in a tree to wait for the enemy and reach for my phone to tap out a one-handed text.
K Cata. Have a great night.
Chapter Fourteen
CATALINA
A guy with a man bun is hitting on me. I hate man buns.
I’m sitting on a barstool at the Sloppy Iguana, Palmira’s popular beach bar. We’re outside, at the tiki hut. A woman is playing acoustic guitar in the corner and warbling a melancholy, slow tune. The vibe is decidedly laid-back Florida, and I’m feeling anything but relaxed.
“Doesn’t she look cute in her black kitty-cat stockings?” Amber squeals to Man Bun, who apparently takes Amber’s Saturday morning kundalini class. I’m wearing black ballet flats, a loose black crop top, a black and red plaid skirt and black stockings that stop right above my knee – the stockings have kitty eyes, noses and whiskers etched in white near the top of the band.
Man Bun grunts and says something about how with my long platinum hair and my red lips, I look like an extra from Disney’s Frozen. I sneer in his direction, and Amber shoots me a beatific smile.
I sip my vodka and cranberry. I’m totally not dressed for a tiki bar, or for the beach. Something about Florida and the laid-back culture makes me want to rebel. I never fit in here in Florida when I was in high school, and looking around at the cute, blonde girls in their pastel bikini tops and matching booty shorts, I realize I still don’t. And probably never will. I think about calling Jessica to bitch but I realize it’s midnight and she’s probably asleep, in bed with her fiancé.
And I’m here with Man Bun and Yoga Girl. My brother's supposed to join us in a while, because apparently Man Bun is a new friend of his.
I down my drink in three big gulps. As I’m setting it down on the bar my eyes go to the edge of the tiki hut, where two of the tallest girls in the place giggle loudly. They look like they just walked off stage from the Miss Florida contest, all big boobs and bigger hair. I spot a familiar-looking, gorgeous black-haired guy and I swing around toward Man Bun.
Mustering a smile, I insert myself into the conversation they’re having about chakras while my mind spins.
Why is Diego here?
Slowly, I twirl my barstool to peek at him again. The spinning motion reminds me that I’m a wee bit tipsy. He’s wearing faded jeans and a gray T-shirt. Simple and sexy. I swoon. It’s because of the vodka. Right?
Simple, sexy and not mine, from the way the blonde with the pink bikini top is draped all over him. I hate that I feel jealous. I don’t like competing with other women. Don’t want to. But, I notice that he hasn’t slipped his arm around her, and I wonder why.
I wave the bartender down and order another vodka cranberry. I’m the only one not drinking beer, it seems. I’m not the beer type. I’m also the only woman who’s not in a bikini or cutoff jean shorts. I don’t care. I’d been in a funk ever since I’d left Diego’s, after finding out from his gamer fans that he’s a total manwhore.
When that guy online mentioned Diego and Tinder, I felt physically ill from disappointment. Have felt that way all night, actually.
He’s like all the other guys.
I squint and try to focus on the back of his head. He’s looking to hook up with as many girls as possible. He probably scores with a different one every night. And since Palmira is becoming a spring break destination — who would have thought, sleepy Palmira — he’s got plenty of women to choose from.
I had hoped Diego was different. Better. And now that I had thrown myself at him, I’d probably led him to believe that I wanted to be part of his following. One of his legion of female fans. Disgust courses through my veins and I hate myself for kissing him.
Diego isn’t supposed to be like every other guy.
The bartender sets my drink in front of me, and I rummage around my black, cross-body bag with the silver spikes for cash. After I pay, I spi
n back around and raise my drink to Man Bun and Amber.
“Cheers. Here’s to returning to my old life. But what’s the phrase? You can’t go home again?” I mutter something about getting the hell out of Palmira the first chance I get.
Man Bun launches into an annoying story about his fixed-gear bicycle, and I swirl my drink with the plastic straw, stabbing at the lime floating in the glass. Should I acknowledge Diego? What is he doing here? I’m not talking to him first.
“There she is, our new social media manager.” With a scowl still imprinted on my face, I look up when I hear Liam’s lazy voice. He’s standing next to Man Bun, grinning. The two blondes are behind him, and Diego steps forward.
“Oh hi,” I say brightly, trying to pretend that I’m having the time of my life. I facilitate introductions like a polite member of society, beaming wide. Inside, I feel a rage simmering. He has a lot of nerve coming over to me with these bimbos after I kissed him like that yesterday. Disappointment and anger wash over me in alternate waves. I had so hoped Diego would still be unique and cool. Not like all the other guys.
I was so wrong about him.
“So how do you know Liam and Diego?” one of the blondes chirps.
I stare at her and enunciate slowly. “As Liam said, I work with them. I’m their company’s social media manager.”
“Oh, right!” she giggles.
“How do you know them?” I ask, my voice bored. Inside I’m dying of curiosity.
“Tinder!” she giggles.
I smirk. As I suspected. All it took for Diego was to tap and swipe his phone and, like magic, he found an easy lay for him and his friend.
“Cata,” Diego says. “Did you know they built a new seawall on our beach?”
I glare at him. This is too much. Just a short walk from this very tiki bar is the place where Diego and I used to come that summer we were together. We’d sit on the old seawall and kiss and talk for hours. It was our place, and I had spent the last hour trying to forget that it was nearby.
