Good Game
A Leveling Up in Love Romance, Book 1
Kat Alex Crystal
Copyright © 2018 by Kat Alex Crystal
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover by Seedlings Design
Version 1.0
Created with Vellum
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue
Afterword
Chapter 1
Violet sipped her morning green tea and snuggled deeper into her rainbow unicorn kimono. She clicked through a dozen hopeful snapshots of her brother Will’s prospective campsite, smiling and wiggling her toes inside her Super Mario slippers. The spring-like feeling in the air was a good omen for the new project. It had to be.
Some misguided birds were chirping away, and the room positively glowed with sunlight. Couldn’t take that for granted in January. And she should have fresh test results waiting for her when she got into the lab, the computer having chugged away overnight. And her advisor might have even gotten back to her about that draft of her paper, finally. It was going to be a good day; she was sure of it.
An unseasonably warm wind blew in her campus apartment’s tiny window. Will’s photos accurately captured a simple, empty field near an average-looking forest. A humble stream meandered through another peaceful, if unexceptional, scene. They were sites on her father’s ranch, familiar scenes she’d once romped through as a kid. To her, they weren’t much but fond memories.
To Will, though, these locations meant more. Meant redemption. Or they would someday, if his plan came together. And after the war, he deserved it to. She intended to help him, come hell or high water.
As if in answer to the thought, a message slid into view in the lower right corner of her screen, waited patiently for a moment, then slid away. She kept her eyes fixed stubbornly on the photo. The timing was like the devil reaching out his hand to tempt her.
She took a deep breath and finally looked the message in the eye. The window flashed like a street signal warning of danger. Yes, it was him. She set her jaw, straightened her shoulders, and clicked on the message.
S1NT1NEL: hey did mouse give you my message?
Sentinel, or sometimes Sin for short, had been trying to get in touch with her over for a week. She’d been procrastinating about this, even going invisible online to avoid him. She should have known she’d slip up eventually. Given his lifestyle, it was surprising Sin was even up this early on a Thursday morning. He didn’t exactly have classes to attend, since he’d dropped out three years ago.
S1NT1NEL: any interest? can u meet up saturday? 3 at riolas?
Their mutual online and offline friend Mouse had told her Sin had some kind of project he wanted to discuss. And as Mouse had so helpfully pointed out, she hadn’t found any side projects for January to help fund the campsite. Nor did she have plans on Saturday, not since Max had dumped her.
But God, why Sin? He was enough of a jerk to deal with online.
If she’d had her druthers, she’d have never spoken to Sin again. But Mouse kept inviting her to play in games with him. And now Mouse was passing on messages from Sin. She sighed, defeated. This would almost certainly be a waste of time.
She needed to reply. He could see she was there. She fumbled at her keyboard.
Vio-45: uh he didn’t say what the project was for
S1NT1NEL: easier to explain in person
She groaned. Of course it was. The only people who said that were the ones who had no idea what they wanted. Waste of time, incoming. Maybe she should just burn some money instead and get it over with. Or go stand in line at the DMV.
Vio-45: i have time, i guess. do you have a budget in mind?
S1NT1NEL: 4k
She sucked in a breath. Well, then. A sizable amount, and one that corresponded to the prices she had listed for an average website on her business page. She hadn’t freelanced as much since starting grad school, busy cramming in classes and research, but she’d left the site up from the summers she’d spent building websites as an undergrad.
Potential clients got one free consult. That was her policy. She was better at turning down assholes in business than in her personal life, so she could at least meet him and give him rope to hang himself.
But, wait. Could this be some kind of weird stalker thing she should be more wary of? He wasn’t a stranger. Unfortunately. But her Spidey sense wasn’t picking up anything creepy. Not yet anyway. Mouse obviously liked something about the dude, although she couldn’t imagine what. They all played Defense of the Ancients, a competitive online game that was both hobby and addiction. Well, except for Sin. He’d been good enough to win tournaments and play for money—hence the dropping out of school. Or at least so she’d heard. She hadn’t asked him much about it. She avoided talking to him whenever possible. Why was she doing this again? Oh yeah, money. Will. Campsite. Her brother deserved a chance at a future he was as excited about as she was hers.
She could talk to this asshole for half an hour on the off chance he could help them fund the campsite indirectly.
Vio-45: alrighty then. 3 it is.
S1NT1NEL: u coming from campus? riolas too far?
That was surprisingly considerate of him.
Vio-45: nah it’s fine. worth it for decent espresso.
S1NT1NEL: my thoughts exactly
Vio-45: k see you then
Vi hesitated to open the car door. She’d parked her beat-up black Volkswagen Rabbit down the street outside of Riola’s. Try as she might, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this might be a really terrible idea.
She had dressed up, but she dressed up for all her clients. Especially clients who’d won global tournaments with six-figure prizes—seven figures for the team. Or clients who’d beaten forty teams at the national and world levels three years in a row. Yes, all those clients like that. Nothing special about him at all.
And nobody said a grad student with a side hustle had to look unprofessional.
Besides, Will’s empty field needed platform tents in it. And wounded warriors screwing around, drinking beer, and trying to forget all the shit they had seen.
She squinted at the windows and adjusted her beloved turquoise frames. Her eyes caught on a Defense of the Ancients logo on the shoulder of a hoodie. Fuck, he looked different. Older.
The young guy she remembered was more of a man now, more filled out, a lot less like a man who spent all his time on the computer. The three-day-old scruff remained, but the sleek black frames of his glasses were new. He had grown kind of handsome, unfortunately. Why was it always the jerks that got the good looks? But he didn’t look dangerous. Just a guy waiting for a coffee meeting. She’d leave the pistol in the glove compartment then.
She got out of the car and locked it. Max wouldn’t like this, even if it was just a business meeting. He wasn’t a logical guy, much as he liked to turn that around on her. Really, she’d expected more from a well-published sociology professor. He—
He didn’t matter anymore. Fuck him.
She breezed through the silver-handled doors. Sin had spotted her and was getting up. No turning
back now.
“My treat,” he said as she came inside. He held out a credit card. She hesitated. Max never bought her coffee. But this was a business meeting, where springing for a coffee was pretty standard.
She took the card with a smile and hoped he hadn’t noticed her falter. With her luck, he’d attribute it to that sexy, crooked smile he was giving her.
“Nice sweatshirt,” she said.
“Kiev Major.”
“I know.”
His smile widened, and he went back to the table. Why the fuck had she said that? His jeans fit him well in all the right places. Wait. Hmm, some business meeting this was turning out to be.
She got a maple latte—extra shot, half syrup—and joined him at the table, returning his card.
“Tough game last night?” he said as she sat down.
She wanted to groan. He would bring that up. “I shouldn’t try new heroes. Whatever. You can’t win them all.”
He grinned, laughter in his eyes. Ah, unless you were him. No. Everybody had to lose sometimes, even him. Arrogant prick.
“I just shouldn’t agree to play with those friends of Mouse’s. He has so many friends, it’s hard to keep track of which of them are idiots and which know what they’re doing.”
“I hope I’m in the latter camp.”
He wasn’t. But she wasn’t going to tell him that, not right now. Obviously, he knew how to play well. But he was such a bitchy bastard, always criticizing every single thing she did. She never played with him unless Mouse begged her to. Which was often enough. Sin probably had no idea she hated being on a team with him.
She dodged the implied question. “Is that an espresso and a Red Bull? Are you trying to kill yourself?”
He shrugged. “Late night.”
“Uh, yeah. Well. Thanks for the coffee. What kind of website did you have in mind? I’m assuming you need a website?”
Jack’s heart was still beating double-time, partly because Violet had actually shown up to meet him and partly because of the proposal he was about to lay on the table.
Vi looked the same, hardly any older, though it must have been five years. Still the same blunt black bangs and straight hair falling past her shoulders. Some of the details had changed. A delightful streak of blue-green, almost the same color as her glasses, was new. So was her eyebrow piercing. She wore a tight black… something. Was it a corset? Whatever it was, it showcased her hourglass shape and looked impossibly soft and smooth. Satin? Over it, a kelly-green angora sweater matched her eyes and hid none of the curves.
If he hadn’t known better, he’d have thought she was dressed for a date. Maybe she had one later. That wasn’t helping him keep it professional, though. Her purple-black lipstick kept drawing his eyes inappropriately to her mouth. When he succeeded in tearing his eyes away, they caught on the single-bullet pendant hanging around her throat, pointing right at some of her most attractive… assets. He swallowed. Down, boy. Eyes on the road. Luckily, there was a riot of blue and green framing her face to fence him in.
He gave her his best smile, ditching the apathetic but mildly amused expression that chicks seemed to dig. “Look, I know we don’t always get along, but I have a problem. I thought maybe you could help.”
“A problem you need a website for?” Vi ran a freelance web business on the side while she was finishing her degree, in what he wasn’t sure exactly. Actually, he did need several websites for his growing business, and maybe if this worked out he could talk to her about them, but he had something more urgent to deal with.
“Not exactly. My dad has this girl he’s trying to hook me up with.” He fidgeted with his cup. At least she had gotten to the point. He would probably have procrastinated and just gotten more nervous.
“Um, okay. What does that have to do with anything?”
“So I want to convince him to stop trying that. This is like the tenth one.” “Want” was not a strong enough word. Needed? Desperate for? Would join a Buddhist monastery and hide away in Tibet for, even? Okay, monks didn’t have the internet, so that might be going too far.
“And how do you propose to do that?” She ran a black, sparkly nailed finger around the coffee lid, then took a sip.
Here it was. The real whammy. Hopefully she wouldn’t throw the coffee in his face. “It’s simple. I need a girlfriend.”
She didn’t throw the coffee at him, but she did choke on it. “Excuse me? Please tell me this is not your way of—”
He held up open palms. “Not a real girlfriend. Just someone to show up and act the part for a few key events, to convince him to give up his matchmaking efforts. I’m not into relationships.”
She was still scowling at him. “Is this some kind of trick?”
“No. No—I told you, $4K for the job.”
“That’s a lot.” He knew that. According to her website, a basic site might run that much, maybe a little more. He’d checked. He’d known he needed to make a good offer for her to even consider it. It appeared to be working.
“I know you have other demands for your time. And I know how much a website costs. And I’m sure you have other clients.”
“Not these kinds of clients. And you thought of me of all people for this job?”
He shrugged. Why had he thought of her? He didn’t know many girls, really. Or even people in town. Most of his friends were virtual, global, online. And, well, most of them were men. And he didn’t have that many friends anyway. “You run a consulting business. Time for money. I’m sure you’re in it because you dig the web too, but is it so different from showing up to a party or two? And I thought I should pick someone I plausibly could have met. Inadvertently. Organically. Like I’m not going out of my way to ignore his attempts at indentured servitude.”
“Indentured servitude?”
“There’s a lot of things about my family I can’t stand, but I definitely can’t take them forcing me into something like this. I want free of it all for good.”
She shrugged, her expression softening. Had something in what he’d said struck home? “Online dating works great for lots of people, you know.”
“No, no. I’m not looking for a real relationship. Or any relationship. That never works. I just want to be left alone. Is that so much to ask? And besides, it would be cruel to meet someone online just to use them like that.”
She was blinking, probably thinking he was cruel. He didn’t know why she thought so, but she seemed convinced of it. “So instead you want to use me?”
“I don’t want to use you, I want to pay you for this contract, if you’re interested. You are a consultant, are you not?” Mouse had said she needed money but wouldn’t share why. That was private, so Jack hadn’t pushed. Lord knew he hated sharing such personal things. The contract angle seemed wisest to win her over anyway. “This is just a slightly different service of a different type. Likely a better hourly rate. It should be a win-win.”
“I’m not a damn call girl.”
“I didn’t think you were.” Nor would one actually suit his purposes.
“So nothing will be… required of me?” She raised a thick eyebrow over her turquoise frames.
“No, no, of course not. Nothing. What kind of jerk do you think I am?”
She frowned dubiously at him. Really? Maybe he’d miscalculated this.
“Look. Just show up, hang out with me, act the part.”
She frowned harder. “We might have to hold hands.”
“It might be avoidable.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. Did she think this was a trick, or was she insulted he wanted to avoid holding her hand? “Is this girl your dad wants to hook you up with really so bad? Maybe you should just give her a chance.”
“First of all, my dad—and her dad too, for that matter—don’t just want me to hook up with her. They want me to promptly marry her and start manufacturing babies to continue their aristocratic dynasties.”
Now she raised both eyebrows.
“Nothing against marri
age, babies, or aristocratic dynasties, but I think I’ll know when I’m ready for that. Which will probably be never. And definitely not when he tells me to be.”
“So date this chick for a month and then dump her. Is that so hard?”
“Vio. Please.” She was downright scowling at him now. “Do you think I would really be here, offering you four thousand dollars if it were that simple?”
She crossed her arms across her chest to delightful effect. He diligently ignored it.
“She’s vapid. I can’t stand it.”
“Vapid?”
“She barely knows what a computer is, let alone what a MOBA is,” he said, referring to the type of game they played most together. The game all their friends played.
“So? I think you’re exaggerating.” But the angle of her shrug was sympathetic.
“I’m sure she’s great for someone, just not for me. She’s a very talented chef, I hear.” She’d also stopped listening to him talk about his career thirty seconds after he’d mentioned video games. If she couldn’t even pretend to listen to him on a first date, how would she not be bored out of her mind the next thirty years? No way. She hadn’t even tried to fake it. He didn’t need a gold digger, thank you very much. And he wasn’t suicidal enough to play casual bed buddies with his dad’s friend’s daughter. But he was pretty sure explaining any of this would sound either sappy or whiny, so he stayed quiet.
She took a sip of coffee. “Oh, I don’t know. I could stand a man who works with his hands, cooks me dinner once in a while.”
Did typing really fast qualify? He doubted it. He regularly hit over three hundred actions per minute in-game. That was a lot of keys and clicks per second, which he considered pretty dexterous work with his hands, but most women would be referring to a sexy, plaid-wearing, TV-show carpenter or something.
Good Game: A Gamer Romance (Leveling Up In Love Book 1) Page 1
