“You have a tattoo.” Aaron leans across, breath touching my cheek as he whispers below the MC’s introduction of the next entrant.
I look down at tiny unicorn on my upper thigh. “I have a few.”
“I’d love to see them,” he says, matter of fact. “Unless they’re places you don’t want to show me.”
His bite down on the corner of his lip hits me. Aaron knows how I’m reacting, of course he bloody does; guys who look like him witness tongue-tied girls around them all the time.
What did I expect from the man who’s Thorsday? I uncross my legs and the tattoo disappears beneath the robe. “I have elven runes on my shoulders. Most people have seen them.”
“I look forward to that.” He looks ahead and a muscle twitches in his cheek.
“See you in the summer, then.”
“Maybe.”
“How about you? Any tattoos?”
“On my legs, and my back too.” He turns his eyes back to mine. “I’ll happily show you. That’s if you can cope with me without my shirt on.”
I open my mouth to retort, then bite the inside of my cheek instead, tempering my reaction. “I’m sure, as with everything you say about yourself, what lies under your shirt is unparalleled by anybody else.”
“More than most of the guys here, yeah.”
I take the chance to see what body language accompanies the comments, exactly like those I’ve heard over the last few weeks. He props his chin beneath his hands, elbows on knees, and his face is as inscrutable as his online character.
“Is he serious?” Erin whisper in my ear. “I mean, he’s hot but arrogant much?”
The taut, powerful shoulders can’t be hidden beneath his armour and my eyes jump from man to man around us. Many are younger and skinnier, I haven’t figured Aaron’s age yet but he’s a few years older than us. How old? Late twenties? The times we’ve spoken through the day have stuck to the topics from the game. I’m not brave enough to pry, but there’re so many things I want to know about him.
“I need the bathroom,” I whisper to Erin and stand.
Heading left, I avoid any further physical contact with Aaron and squeeze past my long-term friends, with mutterings about blocking their view of the character on stage. Cole is particularly glued to the girl dressed as Sailor Moon.
I readjust my ears and costume in the bathroom’s full-length mirror. My bright green eyes burn due to the coloured lenses; do I take them out and spoil the effect? After turning around to check the back of my robe, admiring yet again how beautiful the costume is, I weave past the queue waiting for the bathroom stalls and walk back out into the Con. The hallway between the bathrooms and the main area brings welcome quiet, and I pause. Return to the cosplay competition or avoid? And if I avoid, excuse needed?
Earlier, I spotted a stall selling huge strands of liquorice in varying flavours and my sweet tooth ached as I passed. I’m a sugar addict and anything unusual hits the spot with me. Not that I’m the only one; the people queuing aren’t kids. Selecting a bagful, I pay and immediately shove the bright green, apple-flavoured, sticky badness into my mouth.
The number crowding stalls lessened when the cosplay started, and I expand my avoidance technique with the excuse I’m taking a closer look at the merchandise. One stall in particular sells badges, and the die-cut pink unicorns beckon me.
I stare at the artwork prints on the wall behind the stall, and the artwork folio in front of me. There’s an ethereal style to the watercolour fantasy creatures, and a strange innocence in the human faces in fantasy worlds. Sucking on my liquorice, I weigh up between buying unicorn artwork or the badge.
“There’re some amazing images here.” I turn to the voice; Aaron smiles at the girl sitting behind the desk, who’s drawing outlines of a new work. She looks up and her reaction mirrored mine earlier. God-like man talking to her. Complimenting.
“Thanks.” A pink colour, matching the unicorn badge currently stabbing my palm, spreads across her cheeks.
He smiles and turns to the folio of work in front of him, as I stand, green liquorice gluing my teeth together.
“Candy and unicorns, huh?” he asks, not looking up. “I learn more about you every day.”
I proffer the bag and he shakes his head. “Not a fan.”
At least my full mouth excuses my inability to respond.
“You missed the end of the cosplay competition.”
I swallow. “Who won?”
“Not sure. I missed it too.”
Aaron turns to me and takes the badge from my hands. His warm, soft fingers set an electric charge I swear matches the thunderbolts Sinestre used on him when we duelled. The touch jolts my heart because it’s beating a hell of a lot quicker than before.
No, please. I don’t need this.
“Sinestre, the pink unicorn girl. That doesn’t add up.” He turns the badge over in his broad palm. “Not very kickass.”
I pull the liquorice between my teeth and it snaps. His eyes focus on my lips as I lick the escaping part into my mouth, and they darken.
No. Double no.
I pay, and the stall holder tucks the badge into a paper bag. She watches Aaron as I attempt to ignore the fact his large frame overshadows everything right now.
“Why did you miss the end of the competition?” I ask and step to the next stall. Jewellery, the cogs and clock faces intricately set into bronze settings on long chains. Black and gold letters above the guy in a top hat and a cog-like monocle.
Steampunk. Not my thing. I sidestep to the next stall.
“I wanted to find you.”
The paper bag creases as I grip it tightly. What the hell? “I told everyone I was going to the bathroom.”
“But you’re not in the bathroom anymore.”
“Astute. Why look for me?” His intimidating effect on my senses needs dealing with as I focus on his eyes, searching for any hints something lies beneath—which I’m a hundred percent sure does.
“I wanted to take a photo with the guild before we all go our separate ways; I think Erin and Cole are leaving soon, so we need you to come back to the group.”
“Aren’t you coming to the party?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” Aaron crosses his arms over his chest, which is no mean feat considering how much extra the armour adds to his body.
“You should. Tyler will be upset if you don’t. I swear he’s hero-worshipping you.”
The smile reappears. “You mean he wants to be me when he grows up?”
“How old are you?” I blurt.
“You want to start with the personal questions now?”
“Your age is hardly a big thing. Or is it? You don’t have to tell me.”
Aaron sighs and gestures towards a quieter corner. He rests against the wall, voices echoing around us still, but somehow locked in our own space.
“The thing is, Evie, I could tell you anything and it could be a lie. I could catfish you all.”
“You’re Tyler’s cousin’s friend. His cousin must know you.”
“Not really. We’re from the same guild—well, we were—I’d never met him in person either. He knows nothing about me.”
“Apart from what you share in game?”
“Yep.”
I smooth my robe with perspiring palms. “Tell me one true thing about yourself, then. And one lie.”
He rubs his long fingers across his mouth, those gorgeous blue eyes drawing me into trusting him. I’m such a sucker for men’s eyes and look where I usually end up—their bed. “And I don’t have to tell you which is a lie?”
“No. As long as one is true.”
“Hmm. I was arrested once, and I’ve never been in love.”
“Wow, okay, I didn’t expect things that personal.”
“Go hard or go home, you know me.”
“Right.”
“Your turn.”
I run my tongue along my bottom lip. “I never said I’d…” I sigh. “Okay, but it’s not fair becaus
e you can ask Tyler.”
“There has to be things he doesn’t know about you, Sin.”
I clear my throat. “I cheated in my Year 12 finals, and my first kiss was a girl.”
Aaron splutters out a laugh. “I’m not sure I want either of those to be true.”
“I guess you’ll never know.” I stand, relieved we’re talking the way we do online, but mind blown by the conversation. Sure, we have these strange chats online, but face to face? Weird. Does he read me? “Why aren’t you coming to the party? Scared you’ll get drunk and reveal too much of yourself?”
“Ah. I don’t know. Maybe I will. Wasn’t planning on, but you’re tempting.”
“Tempting?”
“The guild. Spending some reality with you all.”
My spirits drop. But did I really want to tempt him? And I don’t care what he says, the glint in his eyes is telling me temptation isn’t far.
“You can talk game, no need to talk Aaron.”
He pulls himself from the wall and nods at me. “But if I want to talk to Evie, I’ll need to talk Aaron, won’t I?”
11
With Erin’s help, I carefully take off Sinestre, ready to become Evie again. Erin’s decided she loves her new TARDIS dress so much she’s wearing it this evening—and possibly on other days too. She steps into my walk-in robe and drags her hands down her face as she surveys the mess.
“Far out, Evie. You have all these gorgeous dresses and half of them are creased on the floor.”
“They fell off the hangers,” I say, picking a forlorn-looking halter neck dress from the carpet.
“Sure they did.”
With a sigh, she pushes hangers along the pole, examining each item.
“This.” She pulls out the new dress I bought from work a few weeks ago. “Nothing says Evie Taylor like zombie unicorns.”
She holds the dress against me and I smooth the material. “It’s a bit short.”
“And? Mine is too.”
“I know, but—” I focus on the dress, aware I’m giving myself away.
“But the hot guy from Sydney is coming tonight?”
“Aaron? He doesn’t bother me. Why would I care if he saw my legs?”
“He might want to see more.” She giggles at me and I clench my teeth. “He looks at you as if he wants to see more.”
“Shut up. No he doesn’t.” Since I walked away from the Con late this afternoon, my stomach has been in knots. In fact, every part of me is twisted into something I don’t think I can unravel soon. I expected meeting Thorsday would involve tolerating his presence, and attempting to bite my tongue if he said anything disparaging.
Instead, I stared at his mouth and wanted to bite that instead. And run my hands along his arms, back, and if possible, lick him inch by perfect inch.
“I probably won’t be out there for long. I’m tired after today.”
She slaps my bare arm. “Uh. No. You organised this too. I need someone to talk to who speaks a language I understand.”
“We don’t speak Elvish! Although Tyler knows how.”
“No. Your jargon. Like, why do they call Cole a tank? He’s well-built, but not exactly NFL size.”
“His character’s role, Erin. He’s a tank. It means he has the monsters attack him because his character has the most health points, while we attack the mon—” I pause as her confusion deepens lines on her face.
“And what does that have to do with spanking? I hear him talk to Tyler about tanking and spanking. Who does he spank?”
I fight laughing at her. “The monsters.”
“Huh?”
“It’s a phrase: ‘tank and spank’. They hit him hard and he can take the damage, like a tank, and he hits the monsters back as hard, Erin. We all do. We spank their asses, figuratively speaking. That’s all it means.”
Erin crosses to lay my dress out on the bed. “Oh. I thought maybe the game had some kinky sex stuff going on.”
“No.” I smile. “Unless you count the jokes people share on the world server.”
“Well, at first I thought he was talking to Tyler about a date—a girl.”
“Oh god, that’s funny. But who knows? Maybe Cole’s into spanking in real life…” I tease.
“I can’t see he would be.”
“You never know what men are into until you’re in their bed, Erin. Or do you know?”
She scowls. “Evie…”
“Sorry. Couldn’t resist that one.”
“Shower. Get ready. Ten minutes and I’m coming to find you.” She inclines her head to the kitchen. “The guys are here but I need a hand getting things ready for the party.”
I bite my thumbnail as she leaves the room. Why am I worrying so much about this? Aaron’s only around for a night.
But one night is all it takes to change everything in Evie Taylor’s world.
*
The autumn weather allows for outdoor entertaining, and mismatching tables line our undercover outdoor area, surrounded by chairs. Trays of raw meat rest on a table near the barbecue, which Kai fires up.
I grab a beer and wrap an arm around Tyler, planting a kiss on the side of his head. “You haven’t changed, Star Lord.”
“Don’t need to.” He points at me with his beer bottle. “You did. Mostly.”
I grin as he flicks my Elf ears. “I was going to take them off, but Erin hassled me out of my room. They suit me, right?”
He shakes his head. “Sure, Evie.”
I squint into the twilight, attempting to make out figures beneath the fairy lights. “Is everybody here?”
“Mostly. Did Thor—Aaron say he was coming? He isn’t here yet.”
The familiar sinking feeling for the day returns. “He wasn’t sure.”
“Shame. What do you think of him?”
“He seems okay to me. Haven’t talked much.”
Tyler splutters. “You have! He talked to you most.”
“Talked but didn’t say much, if that makes sense.”
“Reckon it’s funny how he looks like his character. A lot of chicks wanted their picture taken with him.” I don’t miss Tyler’s sly side-glance at me.
“Not really.” I swig the beer. “Blond and tall. That’s all.”
“Huh. Is that why you’re making gooey eyes at him?”
“Was not! All I was doing is objectifying him the way you were those Leias and Harley Quinns.”
“I was not! I respect their choice of dress, why should they feel self-conscious just because guys might leer at them?”
I tilt my head. “I’ve taught you well, young Padawan.”
He makes a derisive snort. “I bet if Aaron was half-naked you’d take a good look.”
“Shut up!”
He points between us. “Double standards, Sin.”
I’m about to delve deeper into the conversation when a new arrival catches my eye. Well, my everything. This morning, I felt like a bug-eyed cartoon character on seeing a sexy toon, and a repeat performance happens now.
Aaron armour-less equals no less fantastical than the human Paladin from Sinestre’s dreams. He holds a six pack of beer in a cardboard holder, and a cautious expression as he scans the room. As he approaches I smile at his t-shirt:
I’m Only Here Because The Server Is Down
A large tattoo runs along the length of his leg, disappearing beneath the black canvas shorts and covering most visible skin. Anybody who sees a tattoo that size can’t help but stare; I’m positive he’s used to people transfixed the way I am. The colours mesh into a canvas containing faces and symbols, wound together on a red and black background. From this distance, I can’t make out anything individual. Either he loves inking himself or he has one hell of a story behind the image.
“I told you I had tattoos.”
“That’s quite a tattoo,” I reply.
“Yup.” He avoids my eyes and holds the beers out to Tyler. “Fridge?”
“Ice in the tub, outside.”
“Cool.”<
br />
I chew my lip as Tyler thrusts a beer in my direction. I promised myself no alcohol, but one or two won’t hurt. With a ‘thanks’, I shove my beer into a stubby holder and follow Erin in the direction of the source of my fluttering stomach.
Aaron chats to Spencer, broad back turned in my direction. As I pass, I catch the conversation. Game talk. Of course. Will he talk to me tonight about anything but the game? They stand by a row of unoccupied plastic chairs and I choose one to sit in nearest the dips and crackers, and furthest from Aaron. Bloody teenager, Evie. I dunk a cracker and suck onion-flavoured dip from it. Erin hovers for a moment, scanning the partygoers.
With Aaron’s arrival, the whole guild is present, but the real us. Non-guild friends and partners came too, and half the seats outdoors are taken.
“Busy,” she remarks.
“Mmm.”
“I wasn’t expecting so many people.”
“You know Tyler if you give him free rein to invite who he wants, the more the merrier.”
“What?” She frowns. “This is too loud.” The music blares through the speakers, and Erin heads across to lower the volume. Somebody complains but doesn’t argue with her. I sip my beer, washing the onion taste away.
Marshall sits at the opposite end of the table, chatting to a girl I don’t recognise. Another one. For the first time since we did the deed, I don’t feel the disturbing mix of disgust and anger. I’ve come to terms with how he treated me and the fact I’m as culpable—or gullible.
I flick my look to Aaron’s broad back again. He’s where the feelings are directed tonight and disgust isn’t one of them. Tyler, further down the table, breaks his conversation with another guild member, points in my direction and says something.
“What?” I ask.
“Just saying how awesome you are.” He grins at me. “Two nights ago, both tanks and the other healers dead and you healed us through to kill Varnos. If we kill one more boss and we’ve cleared the dungeon! Reckon we can do that this weekend?”
I shrug and bite back a humble brag, returning a smile instead. Aaron looks over his shoulder and smiles.
Dimples.
Why did he have to have dimples?
“She rocks,” he says.
End Game: A Gamer Romance Page 7
