by Claire Adams
My knees felt weak and my whole body cried out to press against him, but I still held back. The quiet seduction was mesmerizing and I wanted to reciprocate.
I traced a hand up his other arm, following it from my waist to his shoulder. There, I flexed my fingers against the taut muscles of his neck. His blue eyes softened at the massage, and he paused in his slow administrations to let me knead away his stress.
I was still mad at him. Infuriated that no matter what, it was his opinion that mattered most to me. Angry that even as I needed my space, I found myself running to him, pulled so close our breath mingled in gasping anticipation.
I did not need Owen Redd, I wanted him, and it occurred to me that was the harder habit to break. As if testing my theory, I singed his lips with a kiss full of explosive passion. He was the last thing I needed, but the one thing I wanted most. As my body sang out on every chord, he picked me up and carried me to the couch.
We were past need or want or the ability to hold back. We undressed each other in a fury to be closer. His warm skin against mine caused a throb of pleasure that almost pushed me over the edge. Desire took over and our bodies clasped together in perfect accordance. Owen pressed into me, his lips catching my cries of pleasure until I could no longer think, only give. He surged forward to claim me, calling my name, and I let go with a blinding starburst of release.
PART 4
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Owen
I woke up in my bed and wondered why I was surprised. It felt new and more comfortable than ever before. After the police had tossed the place again, I would have thought it would feel alien. Fresh, clean sheets had not covered the violation the first time. That morning, though, I felt more at home in my room than I had in a very long time. It was strange, but I wanted to hold the sensation as long as possible.
Then, I rolled over and saw Quinn. Her long chestnut hair poured over her pillow. I lifted my arm and felt the silken waves slip over my skin. Her petal-soft lips smiled in sleep and she snuggled deeper into bed. Her serene expression, the comfortable curl of her body, and the honey-hued expanse of her bare shoulder warmed me.
I was torn. The morning sun crept towards Quinn's face. Part of me wanted to see her wake with the warm kiss. Part of me wanted to pull the curtains and keep the quiet spell intact. Instead, her chocolate brown eyes fluttered open and focused on me.
Quinn gave a sleepy smile. "Good morning."
"It is. Maybe that's why it feels so strange," I said.
Her long, sinuous stretch tugged at me deep inside. I could not help but pull her in my arms and hold her tight. Her chestnut hair fanned across my chest. Quinn chuckled against my shoulder, and I wondered how loud my heart pounded in her ear.
"So you slept alright?" I asked.
"No dreams, no wake ups, it was so peaceful," Quinn said. She ran her hand up my side. "How about you?"
"Like a miracle. I even forgot about the whole police search thing for a while."
Quinn groaned. "Oh, now you've brought it up. The least you could have done was wait until we had coffee."
I let her crawl out of bed and check her phone. Her lips did not form the nervous pucker they normally did. Her calm expression seemed immune to her parents' messages.
I pulled on a pair of jeans and headed to the kitchen to make coffee. Quinn dressed and joined me, an easy smile playing around her lips.
"I'm glad to see you're not letting your parents get to you," I told her.
"I don't think they've noticed I'm gone yet," she said. "I've got running clothes in the car. I'll change before I go home."
I shook my head. "I don't want you to have to sneak around. That doesn't feel right."
"I won't. Just this morning. I've got a new plan, but like my mother pointed out, it needs to be fully formed before I present it."
"Is that why you're so relaxed?" I asked. "And here I thought it was me. So, what's the new plan? Want to bounce some ideas off me?"
Her smile was radiant. I spilled coffee grounds on the counter. As I swept them to the floor with my hand, she settled onto a stool at the kitchen island.
"I've found something I'm good at, something I can do all on my own. I'm done letting my parents hold my college classes over my head," Quinn said. "This is something I can do just for myself and it will make me independent."
"No clues?" I asked. "It’s no fair to make that kind of declaration and leave it a mystery. At least tell me where the idea came from?"
"No," Quinn said. "You'll get jealous, and it’s just not a good look on you."
I narrowed my eyes. "Alright, I'm already jealous, so now you have to tell me."
Quinn tossed her hair and laughed. "Maybe. Let me just enjoy this for a little bit."
I faked a scowl at her and reached for my ringing phone. "Sorry, I have to grab this. It’s my manager. Don't worry, I fully intend to interrogate you after this call."
"I'm glad you're awake, Owen. We need to talk," my manager said.
"So, talk, Tanner. What's up?" I turned on the coffee maker and walked over to the windows.
"It’s all over the chatrooms – there were cops at your place. People are saying you got busted for drugs and this was not the first time," Tanner said. "What do you need to tell me?"
"Someone is after me, or messing with me. The cops showed up with a search warrant, but they left empty-handed. I'm clean, so I don't know what is going on."
"You're clean? You're telling the truth?" Tanner asked.
"Yes. You know me. Now, what I need to know is who started the rumor," I said.
"I don't have time for you to go all hacker all over the chatrooms," he objected. "You've got to go in for a voluntary drug test. And I mean today. Like now. We've got to do damage control."
"Really?" I pinched the bridge of my nose.
"Yes, really. Your sponsors don't want any drug use tied to them or their products. And you risk losing your spot in the big Dark Flag tournament," Tanner said. "The whole industry fights hard to get distance from the pot-smoking player images."
"Me too. I'm the one being harassed by the police for that very reason," I said. "Listen, what if I start speaking out about it? Like interviews and blog articles?"
"Not bad, not bad. But it’s time to take a drug test and get a lawyer. No more cops at your place. Find out where it’s coming from," Tanner said.
He hung up and I went back to the kitchen. Quinn handed me a full mug of coffee.
"Is everything alright?" she asked.
"Oh, sure, yeah. I might lose my sponsors and my spot in the Dark Flag tournament. And I have to go and take a drug test today."
Quinn put a hand on my cheek. "What can I do?"
"Let me see you in those little running shorts?" I asked.
She patted my cheek and went to change.
After Quinn had gone home, I checked the chatrooms. Tanner had banned me from posting anything even in my own defense. It was hard to see all the speculation, lies, and judgments. I had to leave my computer after only five minutes. It was hard to catch my breath I was so angry.
"Whoa, somebody lose an elf duel or something?" Jasper asked. He strolled through the front door and tossed his keys on the coffee table.
"More like fighting off trolls," I said.
"Comment trolls or game trolls?"
"Chatroom," I said.
He nodded sympathetically. "They're the worst. What are they saying? You know you can't take any of that to heart, right?"
"How about a second police search? Can I take that to heart?" I asked. "Can I be angry that my entire home was picked apart again? Or how about that someone is casually ruining my career? Can I be upset about that?"
"Seriously, man. You need to calm down. Yeah, you can be upset, but don't lose it completely," Jasper said. He stalked off towards his room.
I cut him off before the hallway. "How about we have a little chat, roommate? Because as far as I can see, this is not just a me problem. The cops are searching your
apartment too, or have you forgotten that you live here?"
"I'm clean, man, it’s got nothing to do with me," Jasper said.
I stepped forward and sent Jasper back towards the kitchen. "So we're both clean, but the cops keep thinking they are going to find drugs here. Something's off and I would think you'd be more interested in straightening it out."
"I guess, but what am I supposed to do?" Jasper asked. "Do you know who's making the complaints?"
"Do you?" I asked.
Jasper headed around the kitchen island to get some distance between us. "I don't like your line of questioning. I mean, I get it. You've got cops on the brain, but why do I feel like I'm the one getting interrogated?"
"Because from where I'm standing, drug-free and innocent, there's really only one direction to look."
"I could say the same thing back to you, man." Jasper threw his hands up in the air. "I'm clean, so I'm looking right back at you."
"So, if we're both innocent, then why don't you care at all if the cops have been here or not?" I asked.
"I don't know, man. If they are not finding anything, then what's the big deal?" Jasper asked. "Besides, I've got other stuff on my mind. Remember?"
"Your dream job?" I asked. "What's the name of the company again?"
"You wouldn't know it. It’s a big time competitor, but a small firm. Anyway, I've got my contract and everything is good to go. I know I'm leaving you before my lease is up, but I'll pay the fee or whatever it was in the rental agreement. We cool?"
"Why are you so anxious to move on now?" I asked.
Jasper opened the cupboards, frowning as he realized how the cops had rearranged. He finally found a cereal bowl and spoon but could not find the cereal.
"Under the sink." I said. "So, why the big move right now, right away?"
"Now's the time. I've got the job and I've got to go for it. I'm sorry if you feel like I'm leaving you in the lurch, but, man, you've got to sort out your own life."
"And what's wrong with my life?" I asked.
"You just seem stuck. Like I get the trajectory from Beta Tester to sponsored player, but most people keep moving up to game creator or producer, you know? Instead, you're just sitting around playing video games like you've always done. Don't you want to keep moving?"
"Keep moving?" I asked. "That reminds me. You've moved around a lot, haven't you? Why are you having trouble staying in one place?"
Jasper took a huge bite of cereal and chewed slowly. "Military childhood, moved all the time. Just feels natural to me. I'm just worried that you don't have any ambition. That girlfriend of yours used to push you all the time. She went AWOL because you lacked ambition. That doesn't bother you?"
"I don't think jumping from one thing to another counts as ambition. And Sienna was only interested in appearances and money. I want something more than that," I said.
"Look, all I'm saying, man, is that the whole sitting around playing video games is not helping your cause. No wonder the cops think you're dealing drugs," Jasper said.
I crossed my arms over my chest. "The funny thing is that the cops haven't accused me of anything. They are searching the apartment. Where we both live. So it makes me think that I'm not the only one the cops are looking at."
"You think the cops believe I'm dealing drugs?" Jasper asked. He snorted into his cereal bowl and took another huge bite. "Look at me. I'm a businessman, an entrepreneur. I'm so busy landing new clients and new work that I don't have time to take drugs, much less sell them."
"Yeah, you know, you always told me you'd show me some of your work. How about now?" I asked. "I'd love to see the work that landed you your dream job. Maybe it'll inspire me, give me some ambition."
Jasper shook his head and checked his watch. "I'd love to, but I've got to go. I really just came home to grab something to eat and change. Sorry about the whole search thing. That sucks. How about I bring home some beers and we come up with a defense plan later. Alright?"
My roommate slapped me on the shoulder and was out the door again in fifteen minutes. He came and went so fast, it was no surprise he left a vacuum of suspicion behind.
#
Ten minutes later, I heard a knock on the door. I gritted my teeth, prepared for a fight if it was the police again. Instead, it was a young man with a business card.
"Tanner Olson, your manager, sent me. I'm a local blogger covering the Dark Flag tournaments," he said.
"Okay," I said. I did not open the door any wider or invite him in.
"Check your messages. Your manager asked me to interview you. He said we should talk about the upcoming tournaments but also your career and your fight against gamer stereotypes."
I left the door cracked open and grabbed my phone. The young man waited politely in the hallway while I checked my messages.
"Sorry. I've just been under fire this morning in all the chatrooms. I didn't want to let some troll in. No offense," I said.
"None taken. I'm a blogger, trust me, I know all about trolls," the young man said.
I tried to relax. Tanner had obviously liked Quinn's idea about positive publicity. If I came out strong against the stereotypes of the drug-using gamer, then maybe I could defend myself against whatever came next. I grabbed my laptop and brought up the young man's blog. It was a well-recognized blog, and he had also authored many articles in the same magazines that featured me.
"Want to start with the stereotypes?" he asked.
I laughed. "Yeah, I guess that's the freshest topic in my mind."
The blogger turned on a digital recorder and placed it on the coffee table. "Your image stands out amongst gamers and it is the main strength of your success. Would you agree?"
"I stand out only because my avatar looks exactly like me. Lots of players love to form new faces, entirely new bodies and species, when they enter the world of Dark Flag. To me, it is more fun to conquer that world as myself," I said.
"Not many other players do that. Another stand out happens to be a close friend of yours. The human avatar known as Arrowa?"
I thought of Quinn in my bed. The thought was like a sanctuary. I could not let even a well-intentioned blogger touch her. "I certainly do not judge other people for creating avatars that are completely different from their real selves. Personally, though, I think my identical avatar gives me strength. I put more into the game because it is my face on the Black Fields."
He noted my sidestep but moved on. "And it’s that personal touch that has led you to be one of the most sponsored players."
"That and my exceptional grasp of Dark Flag. The creators allowed the game to evolve depending on how players use it and so far, they believe my leadership is expanding the game in a positive direction," I said.
"There is talk of your clan members also getting sponsorships though there has been some jealousy among the ranks. Is that true? Are your clan members upset at the arrival of newbie Arrowa?" he asked.
"I think the mention of the clan makes it clear why there is jealousy. There will always be jockeying for position amongst a clan. History bears that out to be true and it is proven in Dark Flag." I refused to let him get any closer to Quinn.
"I only ask because jealousy is a powerful motive. You've recently come under scrutiny from the police. They are playing off the stereotype of the gamer as drug-user to produce search warrants and raid your apartment," he said.
"Unfortunately, no matter what I do to bring an open and honest face to gaming, there will always be prejudiced people. I'm not sure where the misinformation is coming from, but I do not use drugs or indulge in that stereotypical lifestyle," I said. In my head, I could hear my manager applauding.
"So, it could be possible that jealousy is motivating someone to set you up?" the blogger asked. "It was noticed at the last tournament that there is tension between the Green Witch Ayaan and the Human Arrowa. Two female clan members vying for the attention of Light Slayer?"
"If that were true, they would target each other, don't you thin
k? But let me make it clear there is no drama there. Dark Flag is a complex game but not a forum to play out love triangles or soap operas," I said.
The blogger sat back and frowned. He was disappointed I was not producing any juicy quotes or comments. I should have known that any interview would focus mainly on Arrowa. Encouraging Quinn in real life was one thing, but in the world of Dark Flag, it caused much larger ripples.
I hoped that whatever Quinn's new plan was, she had taken into account the dual life of Arrowa. If she was planning to enter the world of professional gaming, I would have to protect us both in the game and in the real world.
"I think that about covers it," I said. "If you want to email me any follow up questions, I'd be happy to answer. Also, I'm sure my manager told you, I need to see a proof of the article before you can post it to your blog."
Again, the blogger frowned. He stopped his digital recorder and stood up. "Thanks, Mr. Redd. I'm not really sure what shape the article will be able to take."
"Stick to the whole breaking down stereotypes angle," I said. "Unless you're going for your own stereotype of gossip-seeking tabloid blogger."
"I'm not like that," he said.
"Exactly." I shut the door behind him.
I checked my messages again and found a follow up from my manager. He sent the address of a local clinic that would perform a drug test and put it on record. I could stop by anytime I wanted. I tried not to throw my phone across the room.
There was another knock at the door. I balled up my fist. If one blogger knew my address, then my manager had opened up a channel for other gossip-seekers to flood right to my door. I stood in the hallway not sure whether to tell the person to go away or pretend not to be home. The knock sounded again. Not the hammering of the police, so I took a step closer.
"Who is it?" I called.
"FBI, Mr. Redd, open up. We've been asked to do a follow-up by the local police force," a gruff voice said.
