Bad Game: A Geeky New Adult Romance (Leveling Up In Love Book 2)

by Kat Alex Crystal

  He shook his head. I am fine, Mom.

  An answer came back right away. You didn’t say who the friend was.

  God, a girl, Mom, okay?

  Oh. OH. That’s the big deal with going out in the storm. Why didn’t you just tell me you had a date?

  He shook his head again. Good night, Mom.

  Be safe, Nick. Good night.

  He glanced at his other texts. Ashley had sent him three more, all inane versions of the same thing, trying to get his attention. Would responding and telling her to fuck off be better or would that simply encourage her? He wouldn’t reply. It was over. It was over three months ago. He had nothing say to her.

  He checked the battery. Thirty percent. He better switch it off, since he didn’t have a charger. He powered it down and put it back in his pocket.

  He glanced around. A pink, fluffy Hello Kitty blanket lay over the back of the blue futon, along with puffy square pillows in the shape of a cupcake, a piece of sushi, a penguin, and a panda bear, all with bright and cheery grinning faces. So Penny.

  Sushi. Yes. That’s where he should take her next time. If there was a next time. There had to be a next time.

  He should probably sink down onto the couch with the panda and penguin, but he couldn’t help himself. He wandered to the window to check out the snowy view, then spotted a small desk light on in the next room. A large desk was littered with a computer and dozens of scattered drawing implements and paper. One drawing was partially sketched out, but a stack of finished ones rested on the corner. The top one depicted a dragon in shocking shades of tangerine and eggplant.

  He flicked on the overhead light to get a better look.

  When Penny came out of the bathroom, he wasn’t anywhere in sight. Shit. Light shone from the second bedroom. She procrastinated the inevitable discovery that he pitied her poor attempts at art by hauling the extra pillow and blanket off her bed for the futon. What else could she do? If she delayed long enough, would he wander back out and not say anything? Damn her for having left the place mostly clean. Time to face the music.

  Creeping up slowly, she found him leaning over the desk, leafing through a stack of pastel and ink drawings. As she leaned against the doorway, gripped with horror that he was looking at the random pile of horrendous sketches she’d left out the day before, he glanced up.

  “These are fantastic. Are these yours?” He dropped his gaze back to them, studying them intently.

  “Uh… yeah.”

  He stilled at the tone of her voice. “Oh. I shouldn’t have come in here. You might not have wanted to share. Sorry.”

  She waved it off. “No, no. It’s fine. I’ve hardly unpacked anything else.”

  “You should really post some of these online. People would love them.” He held up one she particularly loved, a purple-and-black dragon in front of an orange sunset. “Damn, Penny.”

  She flushed now. “They’re just a few studies, nothing major.”

  “Well, I need to see what you consider major then.”

  She blushed harder. “I, uh, it’s all packed up still,” she lied.

  He set the drawings down and turned toward her. “Movie time?”

  She sighed with relief. “Sure!” He followed her back out to the living room. “So I have a huge library of anime, Netflix, Firefly, or—I know—Lord of the Rings?”

  “Heh. If we really get snowed in here, we might need all that. But any one of those sounds great.” He flopped down on the futon. He was sitting on her futon. Lord in heaven!

  “Which one is your favorite?”

  “Assuming you’ve watched them all?”

  “Of course.”

  “Maybe Two Towers? Is that weird to start in the middle? I like seeing Saruman go down.”

  “The Ents are my favorite. Two it is.”

  She slipped the disk into her player and flopped down right next to him. In addition to the pillow and blanket she’d brought, her futon was crowded with pillows, which thankfully gave her the excuse to sit close. Not touching, but close.

  Normally she would curl up on the couch, or get comfortable somehow, but all those movements would take her farther away from him, so she sat awkwardly still and wooden. Like a mannequin. Like a scarecrow propped out on the porch for Halloween.

  She tried to focus on the movie with moderate success. She’d watched them more than a few times, looping when the apartment was too quiet, when the loneliness was too much—or when Ashley’s visitors got too loud. He had never been particularly loud, though.

  Her eyes darted toward the bedroom wistfully, but she bit her lip and tore her gaze away. Remembering nights—and days—when she’d known he was there in her apartment, so close and yet so far away, when she’d longed for him in spite of it all… Despair settled over her. God, what was she thinking? How could anyone who’d fucked someone as gorgeous and experienced as Ashley for years ever want a virgin accountant? No, a virgin accounting student too shy to even say hello most of the time. What a silly, stupid dream. Just like the paintings. All of it—a nice hobby, a nice dream. Embarrassingly foolish.

  She needed to just come down to earth and get a grip on reality. Sir Dreamy was a fun hobby, but he was never going to be interested in anything other than sleeping on the couch.

  She abandoned her wooden posture and squirmed around, trying to find a way to get her feet under her without moving too far away. She could enjoy his shoulder next to hers for the duration of the movie. Despair or no despair, she wasn’t going to be able to stop wanting him. She’d just stop hoping so hard.

  Before she’d found a comfortable position, though, his shoulder moved too, the heat leaving her arm as he reached up to scratch the back of his head. Ugh, she was probably weirding him out. If she were kind and hospitable, she’d move those pillows so he could get the fuck away from her.

  As she settled down and forced her attention to the screen and its soaring soundtrack, a warm weight settled across her shoulders, tugging on her hair. She reached up absentmindedly to swish it out of the way, to the side, away from him, exposing her neck in his direction, and her fingers brushed soft flannel and then warm skin.

  Her heart might pound out of her ribcage. His arm. Her shoulders. Lord in heaven, he’d put his arm around her. It really was a date! She hadn’t been crazy, hopeless, or embarrassingly pathetic! Well, maybe she was some of those things, but not for making eyes at Ashley’s ex.

  Sir Dreamy was actually interested in her.

  Or at least interested in putting his arm around her while they watched Lord of the Rings on her futon.

  She shifted a little again, and his hand tightened on her shoulder, shifting her in the process an inch or two closer to him. Against him now. She stared at the TV, fighting hyperventilation and trying to memorize this moment, this feeling, this everything. Engrave it on her soul forever. A scene or two passed, the air around them tense. Then she felt his eyes on her. How long had his gaze been trained in her direction instead of the movie? She reveled in it for a moment, but gradually realized he wanted her to look at him. To return his gaze.

  Why?

  Did she care? She took another moment to build up the nerve and then turned toward him. Those clever, laughing brown eyes with their golden flecks locked with hers, and she stared, rapt, captured by the sparkle in them, their intensity boring into her. Like they saw into her soul. She was frozen still, a rabbit before a lion, and she longed to turn back to the movie, if only so she could prevent confessing all her truths to the demands of that stare.

  She glanced down at her lap, away, only for a second of relief. But she couldn’t bring herself to look back. Or move. Fuck. What was going on?

  She dropped her gaze down, and he immediately missed the expression in her blue eyes, intense and beautiful and not something he understood for certain. Her shoulder radiated warmth through her shirt to his hand, and she’d swept her blond hair to the other side, the curve of her neck teasing him, close enough to reach out and taste…
>
  He could barely believe he’d pulled it off. Getting his arm around her could have been much more awkward, but it’d gone off without a hitch. She had only moved slightly closer, really, but she hadn’t objected or put him in his place when he leaned in. And now she’d lifted her face toward his, met his gaze, and surely she must know he wanted to kiss her. This all was a good sign, right? That she hadn’t invited him up here purely out of a sense of duty and friendly hospitality?

  Time to find out.

  He bent closer, leaning in and pausing just an inch from her lips. Her breath came in hot quick puffs against his skin. A soft rose flush played across her nose and cheeks, and her lips were shiny pink like a strawberry Starburst.

  He waited. He wanted to be sure. She had to want it too. That was perhaps the most important part of being a gentleman that he could think of, so he wasn’t going to mess this up.

  She didn’t move.

  Another moment passed. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. A sudden fear dawned on him. Maybe she was trying to be nice, inviting him up here. And he was that creepy dude, reading too much into it, wasn’t he? She was super freaked out now and didn’t know how to respond. Maybe she’d hoped he’d cut it out after the arm-around-her thing. He’d thought… at dinner… and with the arm maybe… But no. Still, she sat motionless, her eyes downcast at his lap.

  She was probably scared shitless. She was probably regretting having ever agreed to go to dinner with him. She’d even brought out the pillow and blanket beside him. That said it clearly. You’re sleeping on the couch. Idiot. Fuck fuck fuck, why hadn’t he figured that out sooner?

  He jumped to his feet and strode to the door, regret flooding him. “I should go,” he said quickly, his voice rough. God, he wanted her more than he’d realized.

  But if there was anything he didn’t want to do to Penny, it was make her feel pressured. Or that he might do something she didn’t want. Or that he would abuse her generosity by trying to take advantage of her. Fuck fuck fuck.

  He wasn’t “that guy.” He would put her first, damn it. Even if Penny wasn’t interested in him yet, maybe he could convince her someday. But he couldn’t if she thought he was a fucking asshole. Good going, jackass. Way to ruin your chances before you even got started. And she didn’t even know anything about his past yet.

  He grabbed his coat, tucking it under his arm for speed. He shouldered his bag, then reached for the doorknob. He couldn’t look back at her. He’d figure out how to straighten this out later, apologize, something. He pulled the knob but nothing happened. Oh, yeah, the deadbolt.

  He had no idea where he was going. Maybe he could walk home in the snow. Maybe he could google how to break into his own car. And hot-wire it. Maybe he could get someone to open the door at the center and crash on that couch in the rec room. Would Bob vouch for him? Would he still be awake if Nick called him? He could look for his keys again at least. He turned the deadbolt.

  A squeak came from behind him, so quiet he almost didn’t notice. He froze, the knob turned in his hand.

  She cleared her throat. But when she did speak, her voice was barely a whisper.

  “Don’t go.”

  Eyes wide, he turned. He released the knob, but his hand remained poised in the air just above it. Had he heard that right? She was standing, her form lovely in the dramatic light, one side lit by the small lamp, the other by the goddamned Lord of the Rings. God, she was perfect. She hadn’t moved from beside the futon yet. Was she… shaking? “Penny, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

  She took a step sideways around her coffee table. She faltered for a moment, then walked the whole way over to him. His body responded as she drew closer, so many thoughts of so many nights and mornings so much closer to real. And yet she was more than any of the things he’d imagined her, just looking at him right here.

  She reached out and laid a hand on his forearm. He stared at it, helplessly fixated on the heat from her fingers through the flannel shirt. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

  “Yes, there is, Penny, I’m—” He reached for the doorknob again.

  She put her other hand flat on the door, as if she might hold it shut if he tried to open it.

  Interesting.

  His eyes locked with hers. Did the intensity in hers match his? Was there really an electric current flowing between them through her hand on his arm? Or was he just some horny asshole putting her in an awkward position?

  He put his hand on the knob.

  “Please,” she murmured.

  He tried to conceal the shiver that shot through him, shutting his eyes at the intensity of it. That voice. That word. A wild fantasy of her on her knees, soft cotton-candy lips parted, her hands reaching for him, flashed through his mind. He shook his head, trying to shake it off. Get it together, Nick. That was about the most ungentlemanly thought he could imagine at the current moment.

  “It’s much too snowy to go anywhere,” she whispered.

  Oh. The words cut through his fantasy, but heat still pounded through him. Was that it? Was she only worried for him? But he released the knob in defeat. There was nowhere to go. The center was locked up, and the buses weren’t coming. Maybe she didn’t want to kiss him, but maybe he could salvage this awkward situation another way rather than just running away.

  He spoke as he his coat and bag back down in defeat. “You’re very generous to be concerned about me. And to offer to let me stay here. If you’re tired, we can go to sleep. On the couch. I mean, I can go to sleep on the couch. Alone. I really appreciate…” What could he possibly say to salvage this? “You’re a good friend.” There. That should put them firmly in platonic territory where she wanted them. Right? He was babbling.

  She frowned. Why? Fuck fuck fuck, he had screwed up again, but this time he wasn’t even sure how.

  “I’m never in bed before midnight. Movie’s still good. We can finish watching if you want. Or we can retire if you prefer,” she said with a swallow he didn’t know how to interpret. “How about something to drink? Tea? Wine?”

  “Wine would be great,” he said, then immediately regretted it. He’d dug himself enough of a hole already. The last thing he needed to do was get drunk.

  “Red or white?”

  “Red.”

  She floated into her kitchen, his eyes following her body hungrily as she moved before he could stop himself. Shit, more creepy behavior. Get it together, man.

  “Oh darn, I only have blush. Rosé? I’m not sure. I don’t know anything about wine. It’s pink.”

  He snorted. That figured. “Whatever is fine. I like it all.”

  Yes, getting drunk would be a bad idea. And yet, when she placed a tumbler of wine in his hand, he took a long swig. Something had to get him over the mortification of what had just happened.

  Chapter 5

  While Nick sank back onto her couch, momentarily placated, Penny fled to the bathroom—and her phone. Frantically she texted Anka. He tried to kiss me, then before he did, he stopped and tried to leave! Wtf does it mean!

  She eyed herself in the bathroom mirror while waiting for Anka to reply. It was late, she might be busy. Or asleep.

  Wait? What? Who? Where are you? came the reply.

  Nick! I mean, Sir Dreamy! In the bathroom.

  Whose bathroom?

  Oh. My bathroom. I invited him to stay over. We had dinner! He’s on the couch. There’s much too much snow out there. As if that explained how this had all happened.

  Holy crap! Go you!

  But he almost just ran away after trying to kiss me! What the hell, what do I do!

  She banged her head against the door for a moment, then took a deep breath. He might hear that. She straightened herself in the mirror. Should she put on more lip gloss? Less? Lipstick? If she came back out in red lipstick, would the message be loud and clear? Not that she owned any, but hypothetically.

  Hmm. Did you try to kiss him back? Or did you do that deer in the headlights thing you do?

  Funny, she h
ad used that phrase in her head to describe Nick earlier in the night. That seemed a long time ago. Oh, I froze up big time. You know me. Statue girl.

  Maybe he thought you invited him up for you-know-what, and when you didn’t kiss him, he thought maybe you didn’t.

  Huh?

  Maybe it occurred to him at the last second that you just invited him up there as a friend. Nick’s words by the door came flooding back to her. Alone. Friends. Couch. I mean, you have to admit if you thought he was butt ugly and didn’t actually massively want him to bone you, you might be a little freaked.

  Oh, fuck.

  I mean, good on him for not wanting to be that dude.

  What do I do. It’d been too long. She left the bathroom and headed for the kitchen to open one of the three bottles of wine she had above the refrigerator. The nice one, for sure.

  Lay one on him, came Anka’s reply. The phone vibrated loudly against the quartz countertop as she was pouring the first glass. She stifled a groan. How was she going to do that?

  She peeked out the kitchen pass-through. He was also focused on his phone, one hand rubbing his forehead, looking distressed. She had no idea how she’d “lay one on him” in that position.

  How do I do that?

  She grabbed the tumbler and walked into the other room to hand him the glass. He took it gratefully, with a nice smile and thank-you, but distress still creased his features.

  From the kitchen, her phone vibrated three more times.

  He raised his eyebrows as she blushed. “Everything all right?”

  “Oh, yeah, that’s nothing,” she muttered, dying to look casual as she practically scampered back to her phone.

  Jump in his lap and go for it! came the first text. Then, Or get more drunk first. Are you even drinking? And finally, Or put your hand on his knee. Even you might be able to handle that one.

  Hmm. She might indeed be able to handle that one. It wasn’t exactly Pickup Line Thirteen levels of boldness. We did just break out some wine, she replied.