Good Game (The System, #1) (85)

I wait for a few minutes before knocking on everyone’s doors, then cracking them open. No one’s here. Of course. I just want to curl up and forget everything. I wish I’d never gone home, never walked up those stairs, never opened that stupid flash drive.

I stare at the room around me, at all the awards and trophies The System has won, the limited-edition gaming merch, their giant poster. The poster haunts me. They look like champions, rulers of the world. The three of them, side by side, and I’ve ruined it all.

My vision becomes a blur of red, blue, and green, their masks haunting me as tears spill down my cheeks. I can only tell I’m crying because they’re hot against my cold, wet skin.

The elevator pings open, carrying a flood of conversation with it. My brain can’t piece any of it together. It’s broken.

I turn around and watch as the guys walk into the apartment, Aleks holding Parker in a headlock, Jackson shaking his head but laughing with them.

I capture this moment in my mind, burn it into my brain. Their happiness, their ease, their life still whole. Because I know the moment they see me, everything will change. The second our eyes meet, the match will be lit, and I’ll be setting their world aflame.





THIRTY




* * *





ALEKS




“Ew, the elevator’s wet.” Sydney does a weird tiptoe into the elevator, skirting the damp circle in the middle.

Parker leans down, getting a closer look. “Doesn’t look like pee.”

“Who would pee in a private elevator?” I hit the buttons for Sydney’s floor and our own.

“I don’t know. Drunk rich people can get pretty wild. There was this lad’s weekend in Windsor where—”

“Please, not the Windsor story again,” I groan.

“You’re just jealous you’ve never had sex on a horse while playing polo.”

The door pings on Sydney’s floor. “Oh, thank the heavens. I’m saved from this conversation.” She jumps over the puddle and out the elevator. “Good job today, boys.”

She waves us off as the doors close, and the elevator begins to rocket to our apartment.

“You know, the logical explanation is that it’s rainwater,” Jackson throws out.

“Agreed, it’s pouring out.” We barely missed getting drenched, our interview finishing just beforehand.

“Yeah, but rainwater is a lot less fun,” Parker huffs.

“Less fun? Parker, do you have a kink you haven’t told us about?” I jostle him, and he reels back.

“What? No. I am not into urolagnia.”

I widen my eyes, giving him a scandalized look. “Urolagnia? Wow, you even know the proper term. You’re a true believer.”

He shoves me, and I grip him in a headlock.

“Let me go, asshat,” he growls, trying to twist out of my hold.

“Here I am, calling it golden showers like a total noob when I should’ve been saying urolagnia.” The elevator opens onto our floor, and I drag Parker out with me. “I feel so uncultured. Tell me, Parker, do you prefer when they pee on you or—”

“I’m going to piss on your bed, that’s what I’m going to do. Then we’ll see how funny this is, dickhead.”

Jackson just laughs at us, shaking his head.

Parker continues to struggle out of my grip, when suddenly he slips, bringing me down with him. His elbow goes right into my stomach, and I let out a grunt.

“What the hell, dude?”

“Don’t yell at me, I slipped on something.”

I clutch my side, rolling off him. I land in something wet. Gross.

“Why is the floor wet?”

“See, I told you it wasn’t me.”

I push off the floor, my shirt stuck to my shoulder in a wet patch. There is a trail of water on the ground.

Do we have a leak somewhere? The rain isn’t even that bad outside. Shit, we’ll have to check all the rooms just in case, make sure none of the electronics got messed up.

“Stevie?”

I look up at Jackson and follow his line of sight.

Standing in the middle of our living room is a drenched brunette.

Stevie’s hair hangs in wet strands around her face, her white tank top and tennis skirt plastered to her skin. A battered bouquet of pink roses hangs from her left hand, soaking the floor. A clear bag of some sort of cookie is gripped in her right hand. Stevie’s face is twisted in anguish, and my body instantly reacts, her pain a signal to my own, activating protection mode.

I run to her, grabbing her face, searching her teary eyes. “Stevie, baby, what happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” I run my hands down her body, checking for any injuries. Her knees are bruised, but she otherwise appears unharmed. I pull her into a crushing hug, her body soaking mine. “Stevie, it’s okay, you’re safe,” I murmur. She begins to sob, her body shaking against mine.

I’ve never seen her like this before. Never seen her cry. Never seen her so broken.

Jackson brings a towel over, and I wrap her in it.

“We need to get her out of these clothes and into a shower,” he says.

I nod at him.

“Stevie, come on. You’re going to catch a cold.” I put my arm around her and try to persuade her to walk, but she’s a blubbering mess.