The #5Star Affair (Love Hashtagged Book 1)

by Lindt, Allyson

  “How? How do you even ask that?” Hurt and fury mingled in his retort. “I would never…” His words melded into a growl.

  This wasn’t getting them anywhere. Neither of them was talking about the original problem, and she’d made it personal. She knew better than that. This was why she didn’t engage in arguments, and tonight she was as guilty as anyone of adding an emotional element.

  So why couldn’t she take it back? What was she going to do? Apologize for saying something she meant? Beg his forgiveness because he was being a stubborn ass? She stowed the rambling thoughts. “Glad to hear it, because I’m sleeping alone in my own bed tonight. And probably every night after.”

  A rumble rose from his chest, and he narrowed his eyes. “Okay. You want me to listen. I’m listening. What I’m hearing is we’re through, because we’ve had one disagreement. Just like that. BAM! Over.”

  Even though he was regurgitating her thoughts, the finality in his statement gnawed at her. She stood her ground. “You sound surprised. How is that any different than deciding we’re a couple after one night together?”

  “Really? That’s how you define us? ‘Fucking once’? None of the build up around it matters? Then maybe you’re right. You should stay in your own bed.”

  How had this gone so wrong? Then again, how had she expected it not to? “So glad I have your permission.” She spun on her toe before she could logic herself into a corner, stalked into her room, and slammed her door.

  The minutes ticked away on her clock, mocking her. The harder she tried to block out anything outside her room, the more obvious the sounds were. The creak of floorboards as Ethan prowled the apartment. The snick of his latch when he disappeared into his own room. The heavy nothing that settled in once both of them stopped moving.

  Red numbers counted higher, then reset to 1, and started their climb again, mocking her from her desk. Sleep still eluded her. Had she been wrong to lash out? Or just to take things as far as she had?

  And worse, was she being stupid, wanting nothing more than to make things right with Ethan? Was there something there between them, or was she really that terrified of being alone? The questions taunted her until exhaustion pulled her eyes shut around three in the morning.

  ****

  She was jerked awake by the sound of running water in the background. Six thirty. Her dry eyes protested at being open again so soon, and her body ached when she pulled herself from bed. She felt like she hadn’t slept in weeks.

  She stumbled into the living room, and dropped onto the couch, brain still grinding over her doubts from the night before.

  A few minutes later—or was it longer?—Ethan strode past, toward the door. His glance in her direction was the only acknowledgement he gave her.

  “Wait.” The word almost stuck in her dry throat. “I’m sorry.” Not about all of it, but there were some things she shouldn’t have said. “For minimalizing us. Your”—what was the word she wanted? She needed something that wouldn’t come off as too possessive but still sounded fair. Damn it, she was overanalyzing everything—“friendship means more to me than that.”

  His shoulders sank. “Whatever you say.” He never met her gaze.

  The door closed behind him, and silence sank into her head once again. She needed to get away from the circular thoughts and the hollow ache pinging in her chest. Maybe Gwen could help.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jaycie’s spoon clinked against the inside of her mug every few seconds, chiming against her thoughts, and giving her something external to focus on.

  Gwen covered her hand, stopping its never-ending journey of circles. “Amazing sex doesn’t make an amazing relationship. At least not past the next morning.” Gwen took the spoon and set it aside.

  Jaycie sat at the counter in the diner, attention focused on her coffee and the way it slowly swirled to a stop. She usually tried to keep normal working hours, and stayed in her home office during the day. She’d love to be doing the same now, except two more magazines had opted out of giving her any more assignments, and she was running low on work. “There’s more to us than that.”

  Despite the truth of the statement, it sounded weak when she said it aloud. Dropping in to visit Gwen was supposed to help her make sense of her thoughts. They hadn’t had much time to talk since Jaycie moved in with Ethan, and this should have been a good excuse to catch up.

  “Us?” Gwen worked while she talked. It was between breakfast and lunch rush, so there were only a few other people in the diner. Gwen’s staff took care of them, leaving her to keep an eye on the coffee and ring up the occasional ticket at the register. “Hon, what are you doing?” Gwen asked.

  Jaycie had been trying to sort out what she thought of Ethan, and hoped talking about it would help. Their brief encounter that morning sat as poorly with her as the night before. “I’m not doing anything. We clicked. It was nice. I thought he got me. I wasn’t going to ignore all that because it might not work out.”

  “He also never stopped hitting on you”—Gwen took someone’s money, handed back their change, then returned to her spot in front of Jaycie—“, even when you both agreed this wasn’t a romantic relationship.”

  “Technically, I never stopped either.” It was a weak comeback, but Jaycie didn’t have a better one. Gwen was right; she’d been stupid to dive in so fast. The thought stung, though. Trying to wrap her brain around losing Ethan, as though they’d ever had something to begin with, hurt more than the idea of leaving Nick ever had. As much as she wanted to ignore it, the tiny voice in the back of her head, saying she just needed more time to get to know Ethan better, wouldn’t shut up.

  She needed to squelch those thoughts. It was true Gwen’s opinion of relationships tended to be jaded, but it also kept her from getting hurt. “I guess.”

  Gwen squeezed her hand. “I can tell it’s not sitting right with you.” Her tone was sympathetic. “But don’t lose yourself in denial over this one. Is he really worth it?”

  Yes. The resounding answer echoed in Jaycie’s thoughts, and she violently shoved it aside. That was the denial speaking. “I need work to distract me.”

  “Definitely.” Gwen’s soothing, placating voice vanished, replaced with determination. “Have you tried new magazines?”

  “A couple. As soon as they see my resume and portfolio, the conversations stop. You’ll let me wipe down tables or something, if I don’t find something soon. Won’t you?”

  “Of course. You’re always welcome here.”

  The zero-hesitation reassurance made the bitterness rise in Jaycie’s throat. It had to be nice to have a trust fund to fall back on. To not have to worry about money, and be able to do whatever she wanted. That wasn’t fair, though. Jaycie knew Gwen worked hard, and the diner operated in the black, even though it could have been failing and she’d still be able to keep it alive. There was no reason to take a bad work streak out on her best friend. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  A surge of customers lined up at the register, and Gwen stepped away for a few minutes, leaving Jaycie to swim through her own thoughts. Jaycie needed something. Yesterday would be good. It was probably time to stop being stubborn, and look at doing some write ups for other types of magazines, at least until this whole #5StarFUQ thing passed.

  “Why don’t you pick a new penname?” Gwen was apparently done. “Something readers don’t know. If the magazines don’t want to deal with the drama, that should solve the problem. Right?”

  Hope bloomed in Jaycie’s chest. It was so simple, but it made sense. She didn’t like hiding herself behind a new name any more than she had when she became J-Dub, but she’d be able to write, and she’d be making money again. “It’s brilliant.” She let the idea fill her with a warm, fuzzy glow. “Absolutely. I’ll talk to Console Power today, see if we can work something out.”

  They spent another hour or two joking and catching up, and trying to figure out when they could finish the menu designs for the diner, until the lunch rush pulled G
wen away. Jaycie headed home, feeling much better about the day. As long as she kept thoughts of Ethan at bay, everything felt right. But every time his name surged into her mind, a deep pang ached in her chest, asking why she was so determined dialing back their relationship was the right thing to do.

  It just was. She needed to admit that.

  She fired off an email to Console Power as soon as she was back at her computer. A two-paragraph proposal, asking if they’d pick up her review of God of Stars under a different name.

  She hadn’t expected an immediate response, but that didn’t stop her from hoping. Len was probably just at lunch. Even though he was on the east coast, and it was after two there. Maybe he was in a meeting. Something.

  While she waited, she tried to busy herself looking for other freelance jobs. Quick things she could turn around, to make up for the lost work. By the time her email pinged, she’d done as poor a job finding new assignments as keeping herself calm. She pushed aside any trepidation, promised herself this was the solution she needed, and opened Len’s response.

  Love the idea. I really do. We wouldn’t be able to pay your asking rate. J-Dub drew in advertisers before. But your stuff is good; we can rebuild you back to that point. Give me another buzz when this whole thing dies down, and we’ll negotiate.

  She flipped off her laptop, and slammed the lid shut, frustration and powerlessness clawing at her throat and pricking her eyelids.

  *

  For the last couple of days, Ethan had fought the urge to stop in front of Jaycie’s room just to make small talk. His anger at her brush-off had faded, but he hadn’t been in the mood to hash anything out. Especially since, when they did run into each other, she barely looked him in the eye, and even though she was polite, she cut every conversation off after a few seconds.

  She’d like his news today, though. It was worth breaking the silence over. He knocked on the door frame, and she looked up from her desk.

  “Did you see the buzz online today?” He leaned against the wall.

  “Was it about diplomatic relations with Abu Dhabi?”

  “People are biting back on this #5StarFUQ thing. Blog posts calling out the perpetrators, lashing out at Console Power for dropping you and being sexist bastards by supporting #5StarFUQ, mainstream media coverage.”

  Her scowl deepened. “Yeah. That’s fantastic.” Sarcasm dripped from the words.

  It was supposed to pull her out of her funk, not make it worse. “Why isn’t it?”

  “Seriously?” She crossed her arms. “That means it’s still not going away. It’s drawing more momentum, and who the hell is going to hire me, if I sic the dogs on them?”

  “You’re not seeing the big picture. This entire thing is about people being able to speak up without fear of retribution. Isn’t that your thing?” He couldn’t keep the irritation from his voice. “Saying what you think without being judged, without being told to back down, because you’re not the right gender? These rebuttals are a good thing. They call out the big boys. They have just as much right to speak their mind as you do.”

  “So do the assholes spreading the rumors. Except they get to do it without fear of retribution. Someone calling them bullies online? That’s no worse than what they do. They expect that. I’m sure some of them get off on it. Like Damon said the other night, you can’t silence the internet.”

  She pointed at her screen. “The problem is, when something like this takes on a life of its own—when people start responding—the assholes think they have an audience. Sure, people yell at them. Tell them all the reasons they’re wrong. But the delusional crawl out of the woodwork to support them. The legions of guys who think they own this industry spawn more and more voices. People who spend their lives hiding behind their computers, spewing venom under the cover of anonymity, are suddenly finding their peers. They support each other. Reinforce each other’s behavior. They start to think the things they’re threatening to do are okay.”

  He stepped close enough to see what she pointed at. She had an email message open, with pictures of her in it—leaving the apartment with a laundry basket; walking down to the pool in a bikini top and shorts; heading out to dinner in the black dress she’d worn on Monday night. The only text in the message was the subject line.

  I see you.

  “No one cared about things like where I lived before they knew my name.” Pleading had replaced her anger. “I need them to not care again. And I’m not the only one. How many other people are going through this right now?”

  White-hot rage spilled through Ethan. “We’re calling the police. This isn’t safe.”

  She snapped her mouth shut, and sank back in her chair, not meeting his gaze.

  “Do you disagree?” he asked.

  “Does it matter?” Resignation and irritation lined her voice.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Her retort was childish. If Jaycie said yes, if she disagreed with Ethan’s suggestion, he’d back down. Not willingly, but he’d drop it. She didn’t know if she really wanted that, though. Online threats were one thing, but someone actually knowing where she lived… If it was Kent, it was one of her bigger fears come to life.

  She felt bad about snapping at Ethan at all. His news might have been a relief, if she hadn’t already been staring at the pictures.

  He watched her, brows pushed together. “Well?”

  “Call the police.” Giving him permission felt like surrender, but the two simple words also lifted a weight from her shoulders, and she almost felt like she could breathe again. Almost.

  An hour later, she sat in the living room, answering banal questions for a cop who had introduced himself as Officer Anderson and looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here. Not that she blamed him.

  “You haven’t received any threats from any one specific person, though?” Anderson made some more scribbles in his notebook.

  “The fact dozens of people have lashed out at her isn’t enough?” Ethan stood next to the chair she sat in, his arms crossed.

  “Not if you don’t have names or cause to believe there’s intent behind the language.”

  Jaycie swallowed her frustration, struggling to keep her passive mask in place. “A friend of my ex-boyfriend’s has threatened me in the past.”

  “But the email message didn’t have his name on it, or any threats attached to it?” Anderson sounded bored.

  “You saw what it said.” Jaycie just wanted this to be over with.

  He shifted forward in his seat, and perched on the edge. “And you can’t think of anyone else you’ve come across lately, who would do something like this? A guy you picked up in a bar? Someone you flirted with at the gym?”

  She clenched her toes to keep from screaming, and kept her voice calm. “That one person is plenty.”

  “If his name isn’t on it, there’s not much I can do.” Anderson stood. “Taking pictures of people in public places isn’t illegal, there was no specific threat, and you don’t have a name.”

  Ethan blocked his path. “So she has to wait until he actually attacks her?”

  Anderson rubbed his face. “I know it sucks, and I’m sorry. But none of this is a crime. I can’t help you.” He stepped around Ethan. “Be careful. Watch yourself when you go out, try not to be alone, leave the provocative clothes at home. That’s the best I can do for you.” He walked out the door.

  “Asshole.” Ethan shouted at the empty air the moment he was gone. “I’m calling Damon.”

  “To do what?” Jaycie’s rein on control evaporated, and a shrill edge crept into her voice. “To tell us again he can’t help, unless someone has deep pockets?”

  “To do something. This isn’t going away. Why don’t you see that?”

  “It’s easy for you to be the tough guy here. People aren’t threatening you. Your name vanished from the feeds within a few days. You can stand on your own, and not have to worry about the repercussions.”

  “So can you.” The soothing tones he’d been using h
ad vanished.

  She preferred it that way. “I do stand on my own. I don’t have a problem defending myself. You remember the press release, the day this hit? But sometimes playing with a festering wound just makes the infection worse. Every time someone pushes this, it degrades another step. Why can’t you understand where I’m coming from?”

  His fury melted away, and he furrowed his brow. “Make me understand.” The edge was gone from his voice, but so was the coddling. “I want to see this from your perspective. Help me out?”

  She hadn’t been prepared for him to yield. After days of running into the brick wall that was his will, she didn’t have the words to back up her thoughts. She fumbled for an answer. “The day I met you, I didn’t make the comment about Shigeru Miyamoto to look cool and knowledgeable. I did it so you wouldn’t question if I was really a fan, or just a girl pretending. Before I got to know you, I swapped the witticisms because backing down meant showing weakness.”

  “And here I thought it was because you enjoyed my company as much as I did yours.”

  Not where she wanted the conversation to go. “Okay, bad example. When I graduated college, and wanted to get into this industry, I met closed doors at every turn. Not because my writing was bad, or because I interviewed poorly. Because who was going to take a girl who played video games seriously? You even introduced me to your brother as your girlfriend. Not a friend or a partner.”

  “That’s different, and not fair.” His tone was flat, all emotion gone.

  At least he had part of that right. “None of this is fair. And tell me, special little flower, how is it different?”

  “I didn’t introduce you as my girlfriend because I think you’re some trophy to show off.” His words dug under the biggest insecurity she’d been trying to ignore, making it feel raw. “I did it because you’re you. Because I care about you. Because having someone as wonderful as you in my life is an amazing thing. And okay, I’m straight, so that attraction has at least a little to do with what’s between your legs, but it has at least as much to do with what’s in your head, and if you were a guy, you’d probably be my hetero life mate.”