“Do you know what I want right now, Stevie?”
It’s the first time I’ve called her by her name, and I see the surprise light up on her face.
“What?” Her eyes narrow, but there is a hint of mischief in them.
I stand up and, even though she is in heels, I still have a solid four inches on her. I place my hand on the table next to her hip and lean forward, caging her between my body and the table.
“I want to reach my hand under that dress and feel how ready you are for me.”
Her eyes darken for a moment before she schools her features. “Are you always this forward with women you’ve just met?”
“Only the ones who seem like they can handle my games.”
“And what if I don’t want to play?”
A soft chuckle rolls out before I can stop it, and she uses that moment to quickly move out from under my grasp. “Well, if there isn’t anything else I can get for you,” she reaches for the tray of champagne, “I have to continue making my rounds.” She walks away without waiting for a response. I watch her go, tracking her swaying hips as they glide through the mingling patrons. My jaw ticks as other men let their gaze linger on her, like they have a chance.
It bothers me. I don’t come to these events to chase women. I just use them as an easy release. And yet, I want to hunt down this little dove until I can cage her for my own.
Why her?
“You know, she seems kind of familiar.” I twist to see Parker has successfully downed two of his three champagnes.
“Familiar in an I-think-we’ve-fucked-before way or in a she-might-be-a-groupie way?” Jackson’s cosmo is empty, but he won’t reach for another drink tonight. He has a self-imposed one-drink maximum rule when we go out to events. Which is useful because Parker has a self-imposed no-max drink rule, even though he requires an obscene amount of champagne to get drunk. I think all those rich-boy parties over the years made him basically immune to champagne.
“You better hope it’s not option A.” I growl.
“Wouldn’t be the first time we shared a bird.” Parker has the nerve to shoot finger guns at me. “But, no, neither of those options. I can’t place it. Maybe she has a sibling or something.”
I nod my head but turn back to the crowd. With ease, I spot her chatting up a table of female streamers as she hands them more champagne.
“You promised Sydney no sexual acts of any kind at the event.” Jackson can be a real killjoy when he wants to be.
“Technically, Syd was referring to fellow streamers or industry professionals.”
“Literally, her words were anyone at the VSAs.” I drag my eyes away from Stevie and scowl at him. “I can feel you pouting through the mask.”
“I’m scowling.”
“Same shit.”
I’m about to argue back when music blasts through the speakers and the overhead voice announces, “Welcome to the eighth annual Vazer Stream Awards.” I lean back in my seat as everyone starts to applaud. “Please welcome your host for tonight’s show, Adrian Castellanos!”
I watch as Adrian jogs onto the stage, sporting his white mask—which has been defunct for a few years now. Castle’s face reveal is still one of the most-viewed reveals online; people lost their shit. Probably because the fucker looks like he stepped out of an Armani catalogue, you couldn’t be mad about that. Adrian started uploading videos online a few years before I did, and I’m not ashamed to admit that I looked up to him quite a bit. We used to play together a bunch, but it fizzled out as he started sticking to just first-person shooters.
I grab my drink and take another sip, the burn comforting me for what is going to be a long night ahead.
FOUR
* * *
ALEKS
“I’m going to kill Sydney.”
When Syd mentioned that I had to accept the Golden Vazer Award, she failed to mention that there were other awards the group and I had been nominated for. Which I probably would have known if I bothered to look anything up. I’ve had to go on stage twice in the last hour and have yet to accept that damn Golden award.
Is it sick that The System won Best Content Organization? Yeah. Is it cool that I won Best Death Valley Role-Play? Yeah. Still, I would’ve been just as happy to accept them from my couch at home than here on stage. Instead, I’ve had to pull speeches out of my ass.
“Pretty sure murdering our publicist isn’t in our best interest.” Jackson nudges me.
“Pretty sure murdering you isn’t in my best interest either, but I still dream about it.”
“Love you, too.”
I go to take a sip of my whiskey only to remember I finished it about three awards ago. I keep meaning to order a new one, but I’m waiting until Stevie makes her way back over during one of the breaks so I can order it from her.
“And the nominees for Best Speedrunner are CreepyPillows, EnglishCoffee, KyleOdd, JustAGame, and OnlyVan.”
“I don’t even care if I win this year so long as Creep doesn’t.” Parker huffs.
“You just hate that he’s the Australian version of you.” I taunt.
“No,” Parker crosses his arms, “I just hate that he won Best Speedrunner at the Streamzies awards last year after I beat his time in Dreadlander in my livestream.”
I don’t bother reminding him that what they really care about are the times recorded in live tournaments versus streams. It’s an even touchier subject. He can’t even play in tournaments because of the mask.
“And the winner for Best Speedrunner is…JustAGame!”
“See, nothing to worry about.”
I zone out as Game begins his speech and focus on Stevie instead. With everyone seated for the award show, I can spot her a lot easier. She’s propped up against one of the champagne carts chatting with that friend of hers. I watch her move her hands animatedly as they laugh. She’s barely paid any attention to the award show itself, so I know she isn’t a stream bunny, which is a huge plus for me. Stream bunnies have lost their appeal over the years, becoming more trouble than they’re worth. Plus, I hate having to wear the mask the entire time. Even though it would be easy to slip into a coat closet with one of them and be back in ten, I’d rather go through the effort to get my dick wet with my mask off elsewhere. As Aleksander, not Blade.
“We will be back after a five-minute break.”
Game’s speech is over, and Stevie finally turns her attention back to our table. I’d noticed her sneaking glances throughout the show, but just before every break she would dart off in a different direction. Not this time. I lift my empty glass and nod at her, watching as she freezes momentarily. Her lips move, and I’m pretty sure she just swore. Her friend leans close before sliding a couple of flutes onto her empty tray and nudging her in our direction. I smirk at her lazy gait and aloof eyes. The little dove doesn’t like being ordered around.
She’s only a few tables away when I see Daniel-fucking-Decker motion her over. Annoyance bubbles as she changes course to him.
Decker rests his hand on the back of her thigh while she hands him a flute, and my grip tightens on the empty tumbler in my hand. He is talking to her, but her lips don’t move. She just gives him a tense smile and goes to move away, but Decker keeps his hand on her until she grips the tray with both hands and leans forward to hear him better. He whispers something to her, and her face sours. If I thought I wanted to punch Parker earlier for flirting with her, it is nothing compared to the damage I wish to inflict upon Decker. The jackass was the reason she fell in the first place, and she doesn’t even know it. I’m about to get up and intercept when Decker releases her and leans back against his chair. He sips his champagne with a dirty smile.