Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
I tell her about the messages, the announcement, and the meetings in Empire. Everything.
“Wait a minute,” Mara murmurs. “You were trying to message me, but it went to him?”
“Yep,” I tell her. “I should’ve just sent him a nude. Would’ve been just as subtle!”
Mara giggles, wiping a tear from her eye. “This is so surreal.”
“Tell me about it,” I say. “I thought it was just some creep at first. God knows, I get enough of those. But there’s no way someone could fake this, is there?”
“No,” Mara says firmly. “Between the videos and the announcement… he’s being about as subtle as a brick through a window.”
“I like that thought,” I say quickly, defending him. “He’s clearly nervous. I can’t blame him. For all he knows, I’m going to use him for clout.”
“Which would be smart,” Mara says. When I give her a look, she shrugs. “I’m just saying. If Jackson Cross fell head over heels for, say, Tellural, do you think he’d pass up the shot?”
“No,” I admit. Tellural is another Empire streamer, always at the top of the charts, because he uses clickbait, drama, and pulls stunts like camping overnight outside the Halcyon offices. “But I’ve never wanted to be like him. I don’t want drama. I just want…”
“What Noah wanted for you,” Mara says softly.
I reach across the table and squeeze her hand. “Exactly.”
“So, what are you going to do?”
“That’s what I wanted to ask you,” I say. “If you were me, what would you do? You go on more dates than me. I feel like a fish out of water. My last date was… three years ago! Can you believe that?”
“I thought you were being picky,” she says, a teasing note in her voice. “Now I know you were just waiting for him.”
“Mara,” I hiss. “I’m serious.”
“What would I do?” Mara flips a hand through her pink hair. “Honey, I would’ve virtually fucked his brains out last night in Emerald Cove.” I must give her another look because she raises her hand. “I’m talking about a hypothetical man, by the way, not Jackson.”
“You don’t need to say that. I’m not jealous.”
She tilts her head at me, raising an eyebrow.
“Okay,” I admit. “I’m a little jealous.”
CHAPTER 8
JACKSON
“People aren’t happy,” Pete tells me toward the end of the following day. Like I already don’t know that.
This morning, I massively disrupted the workflow on new content by telling my design team we’re reworking Emerald Cove as a roleplaying zone. Now, the artists are scrambling for RP-friendly areas to insert within the existing level. And my dungeon designers are struggling to fit the Cove creatures into their lineup.
“I know,” I tell him. “It’ll be more work. But it will be a better experience for the users.”
“The board will freak if the overtime gets out of hand.”
“Then they can fire me,” I snarl. “I went public because I had to. The servers were going to fail, and the company was going to burn. You remember that, Pete. When we thought it was all going to be for nothing. I did it for survival, not so we could bleed our customers dry.”
Pete looks at me like he’s shocked to hear these words coming out of my mouth. Once, this never would’ve surprised him. It was the sort of thing we used to say all the time, without thinking anything special about it. It was simply who we were, at our core. It was our identity.
“Fair enough,” he murmurs. “But remember, things are different now. Just be careful.”
“I will.”
I work late that night, hunkering down with the artists to get an idea of what the new Emerald Cove will be like. The dungeon team has an idea for creating a new dungeon underwater, out of the sight of the role players, with the creatures unable to reach the surface.
I’m buzzing as I drive home, desperate to tell Dakota what we’ve been working on. When I message her and she doesn’t respond, my gut tightens.
Half an hour passes, a full hour, almost two. In the end, I decide to go to bed. We didn’t plan to play together tonight. She has a life. Her streams, friends, family, and other plans. I can’t expect she’ll just be there, ready and waiting, whenever I need her.
But still, a thought burns through me.
Who the fuck is she with? Is it a plan?
I send her a message for the morning.
TheRealCreator: Tried hitting you up tonight. Would love to see your name pop up on text, maybe we should exchange numbers? Jack x
I switch off my computer and try to get some sleep.
The following lunchtime, I’m supposed to be reviewing the furniture pieces created by the art team. But Dakota’s stream is too distracting. She texted me early this morning, saying she was doing a special stream for viewers in other time zones, meaning she had to get an early night.