by Claire Adams
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 think? 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.
I ripped open the door, prepared for a fight.
"Not funny?" Quinn asked.
It took a moment for me to unclench my fist. Her peals of laughter helped. So did the light and sweet kiss she planted on my cheek before she stepped inside.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I just couldn't help myself. Remember that time in high school when you pretended to be the killer from that scary movie?" she asked. "Yeah, maybe a little payback was in order."
"Stopping my heart and choking the breath out of me? Is that what you call payback?" I asked.
Quinn wrapped her arms around me and kissed me. I felt her smile against my lips. "Now I feel bad. Maybe I should make it up to you?"
I swung her farther into the apartment and shut the door behind us. "Did you see anyone outside? A weasel with glasses and a digital recorder? Did he see you?"
Her smile slipped and her arms tightened. "Are you okay? I checked out some of the forums. You can't let it get to you."
"No, it’s just my manager and I took your advice. I just got interviewed, but he was more interested in gossip about Light Slayer and Arrowa," I said.
"Oooh, people suspect our avatars are having a steamy affair? How sexy."
"It’s not good, Quinn. Sorry, but I can't handle any more gossip right now," I said. "And you've got me worried with this whole mysterious new plan thing. If you want to take a serious shot at professional gaming, then you need to be worried about the chatroom gossip too. This is all coming dangerous close to affecting my career."
She dropped her arms and pulled me to the couch. "I know. I'm sorry. And if it would help, Arrowa can disappear from Dark Flag."
"Wait, what? You don't have to do that. I know you love it and you're getting reall
y good," I said.
"That's just it," Quinn said. She grabbed my hands. "Can we take a break for just one second and talk about some good news?"
"Yes, please."
"Alright. So, that last tournament when I managed to get the Green Witch on the run got me noticed by a lot of players. It also got me noticed by some game creators," she said. "To be honest, I was hoping to use that to leverage myself into the Dark Flag tournaments that pay money. But now that you mention the whole problem with the gossip, I'm glad I took a different offer."
"What offer? Are you sure it’s good?"
Quinn crossed her arms. "I've been asked to test out a new game. I get paid per hours logged and there are bonuses for the levels I crack. I told them it would be more fun if I could play with a friend and they agreed. I have two new log-ins all ready to go."
My shoulders relaxed, then melted as Quinn reached over and rubbed my neck.
"See? I'm not as helpless as everyone thinks I am. I'm not encroaching on your territory or messing up your career. We can have a little fun," she said.
"Is that all this is?"
She tipped her head and looked away. "This is complicated, but only if we talk about it. How about we play instead?"
I handed over my computer and the game console controllers. Quinn brushed her wavy hair out of the way and set everything up.
"What's the game about?" I asked.
"I'm not going to lie, it’s a lot like Dark Flag, except set on Mars. The colony is expanding and there is potential for players to influence the world, just like in Dark Flag. And there are aliens, meteorites, and all sorts of complicated space dangers."
She made my avatar a pock-faced engineer and herself a middle-aged doctorate in astrophysics. "What, no glamorous astronauts or super-sexy scientists?" I asked.
"That's another thing. In this game, your only choice is to be human. Sure, you can augment your avatar, but they keep the choices plain. It’s all about survival and humanity," Quinn said.
"And starting over," I said. "I like that."
"Exactly," Quinn handed me a controller. "Here, we can start over and no one knows us."
We explored the Mars landscape. I had almost forgotten what it felt like. Video games were supposed to be an escape. Now, as Quinn and I worked together, tried and failed, and fought our way through surprising problems, it all came back to me. The whole reason I loved my job was that I could show people how to be who they really wanted, even if the real world kept telling them no.
"This is good, right?" she asked.
"The best," I said. "I really needed this. Thank you."
She moved closer on the couch and curled up against me. "Is it wrong that I always really wanted this?"
"No. Our timing was just off. Other people got in the way," I replied.
Quinn shook her head, her eyes sad for a moment. "She also brought us together and kept us together," she said.
"But you make me better," I said. I leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Thank you for always making me better."
"Even on Mars?" Quinn asked with a smile.
I nodded. "But especially here and now."
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Quinn
The game was interesting and I loved exploring the Mars scenery with Owen. I was bursting to tell him about my plans for the money I was earning. First, I wanted to see the worried furrow in the middle of his forehead ease. He was so wrapped up in his own problems that I was not sure the time was right.
"Watch out for that crater," I said. We both pulled our avatars back sharply.
"Thanks, saving me again," he said.
"I don't know when you think I saved your life," I said.
"Right now. All I could think about was who might be setting me up and what would happen. All the hypotheticals were killing me," Owen said.
"So a little imaginary exploration of Mars was just the right thing?" I asked.
Owen smiled and wrapped an arm around me. "Maybe it’s more than just the Mars game," he said.
"Like what?" I paused my player.
Owen turned to me and opened his mouth to say something. Then, he shook his head. Instead, he tugged my shoulders closer and pressed a light kiss against my lips. I did not pull back. Wrapped up close next to him on the couch was exactly where I wanted to be.
"You're okay with this?" he asked. Another trio of gentle kisses brushed my lips.
"Okay with what?"
"I know it has to feel a little strange. I don't want you to think I'm taking advantage of you. Or using you to ease some guilt. Or, I don't know, whatever other people say about us," Owen said.
I hovered a half an inch from his face. "I don't want to think. I just want to feel because this feels right to me."
Owen tossed aside his controller and brought his other hand up to cup my cheek. This time his kiss was light but did not brush past. The heat built between our searching mouths. He tangled his hand in my hair and tipped my head back to deepen the kiss.
I could not get close enough to him. I turned from cuddling against his side to sitting astride his lap. Owen's arms wrapped around my back and pulled me closer. This time was different, the heat building slower. It seemed to radiate gently from my chest. My heart beat long, throbbing pulses against him. I worried that I knew what that meant.
"It feels right to me too," Owen said. "So, absolutely right and I waited too long."
I felt his hand push gently against my side, asking permission. I moved in the direction he suggested and lay down on the couch. For the longest time, we enjoyed the warm friction, our bodies rubbing together as the kisses grew longer.
Soon, I was breathless, breathing from him as our lips could not part. His hands were hot on my body as he explored all the places we pressed together. We were too warm, but not close enough, longing to hold each other connected.
Owen undressed me slowly, the magnetic pull of his gaze heating every inch of skin he bared. He let me pull his shirt over his hard shoulders, then he slipped free of his jeans. He brought his body against me slowly, the warmth touching me like sunlight. His agate-blue eyes held mine as we came together and our gaze did not break even as our bodies took over.
For all the pulsing desire, it was slow, as if Owen needed to savor every small sensation. The pressure of him, the anticipation, the wild longing soothed by the possessive look in his eyes, brought me to shattering before him. He drank up my shuddering cries, brushed my hair off my neck. I felt him whispering there as he rode my aftershocks, words he could not yet say out loud. Words I understood anyway, saying things that made my heart sing and my body surge around him again as he poured himself into me.
We lay for a long time afterwards without moving. His lips stopped their soundless words and instead, kissed the curve of my neck. My hands drifted up and down the contours of his back.
And we both held on to each other. Every throbbing beat of my heart was answered by his and neither of us moved away.
When Owen finally leaned back on his arms, he gazed down and caught tears in the corners of my eyes. He kissed them away. I could not say anything and he did not try. Instead, we pulled each other up and got dressed.
Somewhere between balancing to put on socks and buttoning up shirts wrong, we started laughing. I had never felt so free or at ease. It was like the whole world was anchored securely beneath my feet.
"Wait, shhh. Do you hear something?" Owen asked. He was still struggling to put on his left sock.
I gave his shoulder a prod and giggled as he toppled back onto the couch. "No. Please tell me you are not paranoid the police are going to bust in the door again."
"No, sorry. I just thought I heard voices," he said.
"I mean, I know I'm good, but I didn't think I was that good," I said.
Owen snagged my waist and dragged me onto the couch where he tickled me mercilessly. I had just struggled free and ran for the kitchen when the apartment door sprang open. Jasper stumbled in with two overflowing grocery bags.
"Snacks and supplies. The alcohol's still in the trunk of my car," he said. He stopped and eyed the both of us. "But, never mind. You finished up whatever is going on and I'll get it." He dropped the groceries in the entryway and disappeared back down the hallway.
"Supplies?" I asked. "For what?"
"Who knows? He mentioned having a few beers with me and hashing out the whole police search problem," Owen said.
I brushed the tangles out of my hair with my fingers and fanned my red hot cheeks. "Boys' night or can I stay? I was thinking, you do have pasta here. I think there's enough stuff in your cupboards that I could make a sauce."
Owen came up behind me in the kitchen. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my neck. "That sounds perfect. I'll get rid of Jasper."
Unfortunately, Jasper returned with four friends. They carried more than just a six-pack of beer. Soon, an entire party spread was all over the kitchen island. Jasper turned on the apartment sound system and music took over.
"We can't let them see they've gotten to us, man," Jasper said to Owen. "Don't worry, I invited all the neighbors. Maybe we can find out who’s been sending the bad vibes our way."
"No. This is a terrible idea," Owen said. He turned the volume down. "This is the opposite of what we should be doing."
"Come on, man, let go a little. They didn't turn up anything during the searches, they've got nothing on us. A party is not illegal and frankly, I think you could use a little fun. Though, you do look remarkably looser than earlier," Jasper said. He winked at me.
I tried not to gag. Something about Owen's roommate had never felt right. He told big exciting stories with details that did not quite match up. From what Owen said, Jasper was a talented website designer with a promising freelance career, but I had never seen one scrap of evidence that he actually worked.
A group of five more people filed into the apartment. Two were friends of Jasper's, but the other three were local gamers. Owen greeted them with big hugs and smiles. Maybe Jasper was right. A night spent surrounded by friends would make Owen feel a lot more supported.