Good Game (The System, #1) (6)
“Well, English got big because one, his accent, and two, he does that thing where you try to complete a game as quickly as you can.”
“Oh, he’s a speedrunner?” Impressive. It’s a super competitive field and takes a lot of dedication, especially if you speedrun multiple games.
“Yeah, that! And then Shield kind of just appeared one day playing with Blade, the two of them crushing any game they teamed up in. He also sometimes posts himself playing those horror games you know I hate to watch.”
“Guess that makes sense.”
The crowd finally breaks, and I catch a glimpse of bright red, my heart jerking.
“Those cocktails are going to get watery by the way.” Deanna nudges me with her elbow.
I groan, eyeing the growing condensation on the glasses.
“I’m headed back out before my aunt catches us gossiping any longer. You need to stop overthinking everything and just live. Chase doesn’t dictate that pussy anymore, girl, you do.” She picks up her gold tray and disappears into the crowd, leaving me alone.
Shit…I left my tray at their table. Crime scene is probably a better description of the mess I left behind. I’ll need to track down a new one so I can keep serving. I don’t need another reason for Lia to be mad at me tonight.
I take a deep breath, squeeze my eyes shut as hard as I can, then I let out a loud exhale. When there is no air left, I pop open my eyes and plaster on a plastic smile.
I’ve got this.
THREE
* * *
ALEKS
“Again, we are so sorry for the inconvenience. If there is anything we can do…”
I roll my eyes behind my mask.
Davis has been riding my ass for years, trying to get me to attend this award show. I have a feeling that if I didn’t show up this year, next year he would’ve gone to Sydney and gotten down on his hands and knees to beg for our attendance, and I didn’t have the patience for that. Davis isn’t a bad guy by any means, he’s just desperate. And I hate the smell of desperation. “The young woman will be heavily reprimanded, rest assured.”
My head snaps up at the comment, and my fingers curl into a fist, black nails biting into the soft leather of my fingerless gloves.
“There’s no need for that, Davis. It wasn’t her fault.”
It was that jackass, Daniel “FlyingFox” Decker. Said jackass was still milling around my table, too. Playing the woe-is-me card, letting the stream bunnies coo over him. Typical two-faced Decker.
“No, Mr. Blade, her actions were inexcusable and a poor reflection on our event brand. Really, we–” he squeaks as my hand shoots forward and squeezes his wrist. I wait a second before raising myself, standing a solid five inches above his eye level.
“I said, there is no need,” I adjust my grip so my thumb lands on a pressure point. “It was not her fault.”
“Of course,” he cringes. “It was not her fault.”
I release my grip and flop back onto my seat. “Wonderful, now if that is all?”
He nods his head and scurries off. Pathetic. But considering no bones were broken, I’m counting this as my one civil conversation that I promised Sydney.
I scan the crowd, trying to find her.
Stevie. That’s what her friend called her.
The visibility in the mask sucks ass, though; everyone and everything is bathed in a red haze. It’s why we don’t wear them full time and especially not while we’re gaming. We can’t see shit. But when Stevie fell in my lap, she was close enough that the mask didn’t matter. The red LED bathed her in its glow, turning her into an angel who had accidentally found her way into hell. An angel whom I wanted to corrupt. I shift in my seat. My cock is still half stiff from the feeling of her tight body flush against mine. Perky tits right at eye level, little ass rubbing across my lap. She turned what was going to be an annoying night into something much more interesting. Something actually worth my time.
“How am I supposed to drink any of this with the mask on?” Parker fiddles with the three champagne flutes in front of him.
“Stick a straw in it.”
“I’m not drinking champagne through a straw. I’m not some sort of heathen.” His accent thickens in disgust.
“Then I guess you’re not drinking ‘cause you’re not taking that mask off.”
There is a moment of silence as Parker laments.
“Okay, how about this. What if I tip my head upside down, tilt the mask up, and you pour the champagne into my mouth.” Jackson and I turn to stare at Parker at the same time, and while he can’t see our expressions, he knows the looks we are giving him. He suggests the same thing every time we go out. “Fine, fine.” He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.
I feel Stevie’s presence before I see her. The little dove has managed to capture my attention more than I would like to admit.
I watch her slide through the crowd, our drinks in one hand and a new tray of champagne in the other. People make way for her without her having to utter a single word. She’s like a goddess, commanding attention with her mere presence. She knows it, too. It’s how she carries herself. The confidence she radiates is sexy. It makes me want to hide her away and put her on display at the same time. I want everyone to be jealous of her on my arm, but I also want to pluck out their eyes for even daring to look at her.