The #5Star Affair (Love Hashtagged Book 1)

by Lindt, Allyson

He almost looked proud she’d asked. “I’m up for a director slot for one of our new titles. The decision isn’t final yet, but it’s looking good. So, premature celebration, and then once I land the job officially, we can celebrate again.”

  Wow. A director had so much say in a game’s path. The feel. The outcome. All of it. “That’s awesome. What kind of game?”

  His smug mask froze, and then wilted a little, before being replaced with a more forced smile. “Technically, you’re the press.” His laugh was hollow. “I can’t tell you.”

  Right. She should know she couldn’t ask things like that. Nondisclosure agreements and such. So why did it hurt so much that he didn’t trust her with that information as a friend? She struggled to keep a wounded pang from slipping into her reply. “Totally get it. When you get closer to release, I’ll hook you up with someone who’ll give it a fair write-up.”

  “Awesome.”

  And the silence was back. If they couldn’t talk about his work without violating NDA’s, half of her repertoire was eliminated. Especially since they already avoided talking about her job. Gwen listened to her ramble about that stuff all the time, but Jaycie didn’t have to worry about Gwen spreading the information places it shouldn’t go.

  What had Jaycie talked about with Nick? It certainly hadn’t been work. Oh, right. Nothing. Another reason she didn’t miss him the way someone who had left their boyfriend after so much time together should.

  Less than a week of living with Ethan, and she already had more in common with him than with Nick.

  A tiny metallic clink drew her out of her rambling thoughts. Ethan was playing with the charm that hung at the end of her wristlet. She’d left it on the corner of the table, since it didn’t have a strap to hang from the chair.

  He met her gaze. “Venom? You know he’s the villain, right?”

  She had a collection of charms and fobs she got from different companies, and she swapped them out on whims. Venom, from one of the Spider-Man games, was her favorite so far. He’d been dangling from her purse long enough she had to check him occasionally, to make sure he wasn’t coming loose. “Only a villain up front. Anti-hero after he moved to San Francisco and put his whole feud with Peter Parker behind him.”

  “He’s still a psychopath.”

  She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hide her smile. This was the kind of debate she could do, as long as he didn’t take it too seriously. “So you’re more of a Superman kind of guy? Where there’s only the black and white of good and evil? Where justice is always shiny?”

  “Batman, actually.”

  She didn’t have a problem with Batman, but she couldn’t help teasing Ethan as retribution for his Venom comments. “So anti-hero wanna be, who’s too emo to be well adjusted. More money than is plausible. Thriving on vengeance. Really?”

  “You know Venom does the whole vengeance thing too, right? That’s like his entire deal? Him and the suit.”

  “Technically, the symbiote is Venom. Or least the combination of the two. He’s Eddie Brock. In The Amazing Spider-Man, issue three-hundred…” Heat flooded her cheeks, when she realized Ethan was watching her, eyebrows raised, corners of his mouth pulled up. “What?”

  “Passionate about the subject much?”

  She was used to justifying she knew her shit. That she hadn’t latched onto something just because her boyfriend had. “I guess.”

  He nudged her shoe with his. “That’s cool. Once upon a time, I had issue numbers memorized. I knew when Bruce Wayne broke his back, when Azrael was the Dark Knight—like dates, and every single, Bang, Biff, and Pow on the page.”

  Her mind stalled, searching for a reply. It was going to take some getting used to that he just accepted her fandom. But she liked it.

  While they ate, conversation flowed from comics to movies, to anything and everything.

  A familiar voice floated to her ears from somewhere else in the dining room, and the bite of burger she’d just taken landed in her gut with a thud. Her gaze darted everywhere, until it landed on a familiar head of wild blond curls, and a face covered in a full beard. Kent stood at the front register. Had he seen her? She sank lower in her seat, mouth suddenly dry and food souring in her stomach.

  Ethan looked at her, and furrowed his brows. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded when her voice refused to work. She needed Kent to not see her. She wasn’t prepared to deal with him tonight.

  “You don’t look okay,” Ethan said.

  Why was he talking so loudly? Except he wasn’t. That was just his normal tone of voice. “I’m fine.” She managed to make the sound more than a whisper. “Just feeling a little off.”

  Ethan’s brows knitted together, but if he had questions about her abrupt shift in mood, he kept them to himself. That was something to be grateful for. “Do you want to go?” he asked.

  Not if it meant walking past Kent. “I’m fine.” She didn’t even sound fine to herself. Who was she fooling?

  “It’s not a big deal. We’ll leave now.”

  She shook her head, and slouched lower in her seat. The seconds seemed to drag on until Kent was handed a to-go bag and walked out the door again. She almost choked on her relief. Would her paranoia about him ever fade?

  Chapter Four

  Jaycie wiped the steam from the bathroom mirror, and stared into her own eyes as she brushed her hair. She’d only known Ethan for a week. In fact, it had been exactly seven days, give or take a few hours, since she moved in.

  He was just another guy, so why couldn’t she get him out of her head? And she couldn’t convince herself that was a bad thing. Thinking about him sent giddy flutters through her chest. She smiled at her reflection, squeezed excess water from the ends of her hair, and tied it back into a ponytail.

  Something clattered from the kitchen, and she followed the noise. She widened her eyes. Ethan stood at the counter, mixing bowl, eggs, and flour in front of him. “You want breakfast?”

  She didn’t know if she was more surprised he cooked, or that he was up at eight on a Saturday. “Sure.” She watched him for a few more seconds. “Are you making pancakes? From scratch?”

  “Yup.” He ladled a spoonful of batter into an electric griddle. He paused, and turned his attention toward her. “I didn’t start the coffee yet. Not used to having someone else waiting.”

  A response died in her throat. Had anyone ever cooked for her? She’d been the one responsible for meals with Nick, because she’d been the one home all day. Even now, the idea of sitting around while someone else did all the work made her tap her toes against the cool tile. “I’ll handle the coffee. Where do you keep it?”

  He nodded at the cupboard over the coffee maker, and flipped a pancake.

  She wrinkled her nose at the giant plastic tub. “I’ll be right back.” She rummaged through the boxes in her room, and moments later returned to the kitchen, glass jar with beans, and a grinder in hand. “You don’t mind, do you?”

  He glanced up at the rattle. “Nope. I wouldn’t have pegged you as a coffee snob.”

  She gave an exaggerated huff, but couldn’t help laughing. “I’m not a snob. I just have functioning taste buds.”

  “So do I. But I also have priorities, and ten bucks for half a pound of Blue Coast roast isn’t near the top of the list.”

  She might have thought he was offended if it weren’t for the ever-present smirk, and joking lilt to his tone. The conversation slid to a halt for a moment while she ground the beans. His comment tickled her thoughts, grabbing onto the edge of something and tugging it loose in her mind.

  She took a seat in one of the barstools next to the counter while the coffee brewed. “Can I ask you something personal?” Maybe she shouldn’t bring it up, but now the idea was in her head, she couldn’t think of another, less intrusive question.

  He shrugged, but kept his attention focused on the pan.

  Might as well spit it out. “I know programmers aren’t always treated as well as they should be, but Dig
ital Media is a big player, and they pay above the industry standard…” She couldn’t finish the question. There were a million reasons Ethan could be living on a limited budget. Personal preference was one of them, and as curious as she was, she couldn’t justify insulting him by asking how much he made.

  He slid a plate in front of her, piled high with pancakes, amusement dancing on his face. “Then why do I live paycheck to paycheck?”

  She ducked her head. “I wasn’t going to… I mean… Syrup?”

  “You wouldn’t be the first to ask. At least you’re nicer about it than oh, say, my brother.” An edge lined his light-hearted tone.

  “I’m sorry if I hit a nerve. No judgment. I’m just curious.”

  He nudged the syrup in her direction, and stayed standing in the spot across from her with his own plate. “It’s no big deal. It’s also not a big secret or anything. I’ve got two goals—to pay off my student loans before I’m thirty, and to stash enough cash that I can go indie. I figure I’ll need a couple years’ salary squirreled away, and to be as debt-free as possible, and then I’m going to build my own games. Having you here puts me back on track. Thank you for that, by the way.”

  “You’re welcome. And wow.” Her awe was genuine. “With what I’ve seen from you, you’ll do amazing things. Why don’t you find investors?”

  “I don’t want to answer to anyone. And working for DM isn’t bad in the meantime. I’m learning what does and doesn’t work, and picking up a lot about the business side of things. Making contacts. That kind of stuff.”

  His tone had shifted. In addition to his standard confidence, there was an extra trace of pride. He believed in what he was shooting for. She liked that. The coffee maker sputtered out its last drops, and she hopped from the stool. She grabbed two mugs from the cupboard.

  “Behind you.” He rested his hand at the small of her back, and sent a spike of warmth dancing over her skin. Focusing on his touch was such a bad idea. Too bad her body didn’t agree. He handed her the cream.

  “Sugar?” She managed to find her voice, as she filled both cups with coffee, then milk.

  “It’s on the counter, and no thanks.” His breath caressed the back of her neck, while he traced tiny lines over her spine with his thumb. She should pull away, but the contact, his scent, it was all too comforting.

  Images flashed through her mind. Leaning back into him. His lips trailing along her skin. His groans filling her head, as he spun her, lifted her onto the counter, and pushed between her legs. The fantasy seared her veins, and tingled in her gut. She dragged up what little restraint she could find. It didn’t smother her swelling desire, but it gave her enough reason to think around it. What was she doing? Playing house with some guy she just met?

  She broke away from his touch, and put several feet and the counter between them again. Her heart hammered in her ears, and her mind jerked over the contradiction of the moment—how simple it was to fall into this pattern, and how little sense it made for her to do so. “So that’s why you’ve got business cards?” Like the one he’d given her at Gwen’s diner with his home address on it. She hoped she managed to hide her uncertainty as she struggled to bring the conversation back to neutral ground.

  His gaze slid over her, and paused on her face. “Yeah. You okay?”

  She swallowed, to try and get some moisture back in her throat. She’d gotten over Nick faster than was right, considering how long they’d been together, and that made her realize all they’d had was comfort. She didn’t want to make that mistake again. Besides, she barely knew Ethan. She shared an apartment with him, and finding this place had been tough enough. If she let her hormones drive her decisions, things would end badly.

  “I’m good,” she managed to say. “I just remembered I have work to do today. Do you mind if I take this with me?” She gestured to her plate.

  “No.” Ethan furrowed his brow, still studying her.

  “Thanks again for breakfast,” she called over her shoulder as she disappeared into her room. She leaned against the door to close it, pulse still screaming. Seriously. What the hell was wrong with her? Worse, she didn’t know if she was more frustrated with her desire to give in or the fact she hadn’t already done so.

  *

  Ethan dropped his palms onto the counter, locked his elbows, and closed his eyes. What was he doing? He didn’t like to make assumptions about what kind of signals a woman gave off, but with Jaycie, it was a struggle to back off.

  Standing behind her near the coffee maker, he’d wanted to bury his face in her neck. Slide his hands up her stomach. Kiss every inch of her body, and see if she tasted as amazingly as the faint honeysuckle drifting from her skin smelled. His cock twitched at the temptation, still hard from the encounter a few minutes ago.

  He didn’t know how to react to the entire situation. She seemed into him sometimes, but then pulled away abruptly. If he were a better man, he’d ask her outright if she was interested, but he was just as concerned she’d tell him she didn’t know as he was that she’d tell him to back off.

  He raked his fingers through his hair, and shoved aside his breakfast. Fuck it. He wasn’t going to be the asshole who made too many assumptions and forced things into awkward—or even threatening—territory.

  Maybe he could find a distraction. Rich had offered to set him up with someone. Now seemed like a good time for Ethan to take his buddy up on the offer.

  Chapter Five

  The chatter of a dozen different conversations filled the family-style restaurant, mingling with the clang of silverware and clink of ice in glasses.

  Ethan clenched his hands in his lap, fighting the urge to rub his face, lean on his palm, or do anything that might give away how completely bored he was. He tried to focus on his date. Not what she was saying—he’d given up on that a couple of hours ago. It hadn’t seemed to matter. If he nodded at the right time, she kept talking.

  He was never letting Rich set him up again. It didn’t matter how amazing his friend promised the girl would be, Ethan was finding his own date next time. Going out was supposed to be a distraction. A random hookup to remind him of why he preferred random hookups to letting his libido lust after an off-limits roommate.

  Instead of taking his mind off the woman at home, the date had left his thoughts free to linger on Jaycie most of the evening. How gorgeous she looked first thing in the morning, hair still damp from the shower. The passion she poured into talking about the things she loved, when she let her defenses down. It didn’t matter if it was games or music, or the flowers she’d seen blooming outside the apartment. The way her eyes lit up, how she licked her lips when she was distracted, the conviction in her voice—it all brought his senses to life.

  He shouldn’t be thinking about Jaycie. He pushed remnants of hamburger bun around his plate, and covered them with fries. Could he build a house out of them? Maybe the potatoes were cold enough to shape. Sonja had hardly touched her food. Would she mind, if he borrowed some of the lettuce for texture? He was being a horrible date, but the few times he’d tried to bring the evening to a close early, she’d cut him off.

  “…and then it took them forever to find it. How was I supposed to know it was called The Horde and not That One With All The Gross Aliens and Guns?”

  The game name drew Ethan’s attention, and his brain clicked back to the conversation. “I loved that game. Incredible graphics. And the things they did with skins instead of polygons? Epic.” He didn’t like to give Rinslet any credit, but they’d created the game when they were still under DM, and it was his company’s intellectual property now, so he could ignore its past, in favor of an amazing title.

  She snorted, staring at him in disbelief. “Seriously? You sound like my brother. Except he’s ten. So lame.” She spit out each word, as if expelling them got rid of a bad taste in her mouth. “Anyway. The store manager was so apologetic about the whole thing…”

  He knocked back the rest of his drink, cold tequila with a squirt of lime
sliding down his throat. If he wasn’t driving, he’d order a second. Or third. Maybe he should anyway. Would anyone miss them, if they accidentally drove off a cliff? He wouldn’t have to figure out what he was going to have to sacrifice, to pay for this meal. But he wouldn’t get to play The Horde anymore either. That would blow. Not that there were any cliffs between the restaurant and home.

  His attention drifted to her lips. They just kept moving. The red looked like enamel. Why would someone put high-gloss resin on their lips? Maybe he should finish that model robot he had in his closet. He followed her jawline to her collarbone. Should he tell her the black dress was too tight? Tits shouldn’t be squished like that, bulging over the top of the satin. How was that even comfortable? The moment he had the thought, he felt bad for it. Then again, she’d spent most of the evening insulting his career, so it was hard to summon enough empathy to stop the rambling thoughts.

  “Hello?” Sonja’s soprano whine severed his drifting thoughts, and a set of perfectly manicured nails—the same blood red as her lipstick— snapped in front of his face. “I’m up here.”

  He pulled his gaze away from her chest.

  She smiled, her heavy makeup exaggerating the lines around her eyes and mouth more than was appropriate for someone in their mid-twenties. “I was just thinking…”

  Ethan bit back the sarcastic ‘Really? Did it hurt?’ that tried to force itself past his lips. Instead of taking his mind off Jaycie, Sonja drove home how much he appreciated Jaycie’s company. He shook the thought aside, and settled on a simple, “Oh?”

  “Maybe we should get out of here?” She traced her finger around the top of her glass, and ran her tongue along her upper lip. Christ, Jaycie was so much sexier when she did that subconsciously.

  And Ethan couldn’t believe Sonja was still hitting on him, after spending the entire evening telling him how stupid she thought computer people were. He was going to have a serious conversation with Rich about their differing opinions when it came to a fun night out. Not that Ethan cared about the consequences of a random hookup. He and Sonja were both consenting adults, and as long as neither of them had to speak much longer…