Tied to Trouble (Gamers)

by Megan Erickson

  Owen took another glance into the kitchen and then stepped closer to the laptop.

  Chapter Six

  Chad juggled the container of chips and the bowl of salsa as he left the kitchen. He didn’t quite know how to do this, how to talk to Owen now. First of all, his hookups were usually not done in his home. Second of all, he hadn’t actually had a hookup that went this far for a while. Despite popular opinion.

  But he could do this, right? Offer Owen some snacks then send him on his little turtle way until they could do a repeat?

  He glanced up, about to make a joke about Owen’s Toyota, when he noticed the guy over by his desk, staring at the screen-saver graphic Chad had drawn and hand hovering ominously over the mouse.

  Which was bad, very bad, because like an idiot who’d never thought Owen would be in his apartment, Dapper Dick was his background. And Owen would take one look at that bow-tied superhero and flip his nut.

  “What’re you doing?” Chad asked, his voice cutting through the silence of the living room.

  Owen jerked up and took a step away from the desk. He looked like he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to do. He shoved his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders in, making his slender frame even thinner. “Sorry, just looking at your screen saver here. What’s that from?”

  After shoving a magazine to the floor, Chad dropped the chips and salsa on a table beside the couch. “Oh, uh, I don’t remember. I think Marley put that screen saver up.” Lie. Such a lie.

  Owen frowned at it. “Really? I’ll have to ask her.”

  No! Abort! “Oh, I doubt she’d remember. It’s been up for a while. Years, probably.”

  “Really? Because that’s a fairly new laptop. Came out a couple of months ago.”

  Jesus, this guy. “Is this CSI? What the fuck? Can you just sit down like a normal person and eat some fucking chips, for the love of God?”

  Owen threw up his hands and then sat down on the couch beside Owen in what could only be described as a huff. “Excuse me for asking questions. I was just curious. It’s a cool character and excellent art, so I was wondering if it was in a video game I haven’t heard of.”

  Chad dipped his chip in the salsa and didn’t look up, sure that his cheeks were flushed at the unintentional praise of his work. Excellent art. It was narcissistic as fuck, but hey, he could use the boost. “Yeah, you think it’s good?”

  Owen looked at it as he crunched a chip. “Yeah, great detail and shading. The expression on the guy is clear. There’s a kind of tough ambience.”

  Tough ambience. Wow. “Sure, that’s, uh, a great way to describe it.”

  “I’ll have to look it up when I get home,” Owen said, gaze still on the screen saver.

  Just tell him you drew it! But that would lead to questions, like, “Why are you working at a bar?” and, “Why didn’t you go to school?” and all kinds of things that Chad didn’t want to answer. Because the answer wasn’t some great story, like he’d sacrificed his future for his family or anything. No, it was that Chad partied too much and failed out of college and then had done nothing substantial with his life for the past eight years.

  He didn’t want to say that to Owen, a guy who was smart and clearly had his shit together. It only made their differences more glaring, and all the more reason for Chad to keep everything close to his chest. They’d never work out.

  Owen’s gaze roamed the apartment, and Chad tried to see it through Owen’s eyes—the clutter, the dirty dishes, the random video game paraphernalia. Owen’s apartment was probably spotless and organized and his closets color coded.

  Owen had a great dick. And kissed like a dream. And knew how to make Chad come and come hard. So that was all it’d be. And if there was anything Chad was actually good at, it was keeping things casual.

  Chad spun the bowl of salsa. “So, were you paying attention when Austin was talking about what we were supposed to do?”

  Owen gave him a sidelong glance. “Of course I was. Weren’t you?”

  “Oh, don’t look at me like that. You had me by the balls, literally. I’m not that great at multitasking.”

  Owen smiled at that. “This week we’re supposed to scope out some places for the proposal, take notes and pictures, and send them to Austin. He said he sucks at lying and isn’t good at making excuses to leave Marley on a weeknight.”

  “So we’re his errand bitches, basically.”

  “Basically.”

  “I have Tuesday and Wednesday off.”

  Owen paused. “Okay, I can do Wednesday night. Austin said he’d email me a list of places, so we can start with those. Sound good?”

  “Sure, sounds fine.”

  Owen looked like he was going to say something else but then stood up and tugged on his shirt. Chad thought belatedly that maybe he should have at least pulled on his pants so he wasn’t standing in front of Owen in only his boxers. He stood and fluttered his hands awkwardly. “So, uh—”

  With a jolt, he was pressed up against a lean, clothed body, and Owen’s blue eyes were staring right into his. Chad was rendered speechless as Owen’s gaze roamed his face, lingering on his lips, before meeting his eyes again. He shook his head as his grip eased up on Chad’s biceps. “How is this going to go?”

  Chad blinked. “How’s what going to go?”

  “Being around each other while we help Austin.”

  Chad shrugged. “What d’ya mean? It’ll go how it’s been going. I’ll snark at you until you take your clothes off, we’ll fuck, since that’s the only time we get along, and then the cycle will start all over again.”

  Owen’s face didn’t change. “That’s how it’s going to go then.”

  I don’t commit, and you’d never want to put up with a guy like me for long, anyway. “Sure.”

  Owen held his gaze for a minute as his hand slipped down to palm Chad’s ass. He leaned in and pressed his lips to Chad’s. “Fine,” he said as he stepped away.

  Chad swayed a minute as he regained his balance. “And I’m going to tell Marley that your dick tends to curve a little—”

  “Chad!”

  He began to laugh, and then Owen was walking out the door, muttering obscenities and then slamming the door behind him. Which made Chad laugh even harder.

  After a shower and a hastily made sandwich of turkey, cheese, chips, and pickles, Chad sat down at his computer and stared at his screen saver.

  For so long, graphic design had been a hobby, something to do to pass the time or improve his mood. Yes, he’d known it could be a job or a career, but committing to that had felt daunting. But now he tried to look at himself through Owen’s eyes. What did the guy really think of Chad? And why did Chad care?

  He didn’t know why, but he did. He wanted to know if Owen thought he was a fuckup. Some bartender that he’d tell his future husband about—yeah, I fooled around with my boss’s brother years ago. Great fuck but total fling material.

  It made Chad cringe.

  Two hours later, he’d studied his finances and researched initial college costs and he was looking at a big loan. Big. Fucking huge. He had savings because he really didn’t spend much money, but his savings weren’t enough to put a decent dent in tuition costs.

  There were probably some sort of scholarship opportunities he could look into, but fuck, now he remembered that he’d done this a couple of years ago, gotten overwhelmed, and gave up.

  What did that say about him? It said exactly what Owen probably thought of him. What most people thought of him. Sometimes he felt like a caricature of a person, that secondary character in a book who always remained in the background and somehow managed to get by despite a shaky backstory.

  But Chad wasn’t a caricature. He was real and he felt and he…kinda needed a beer right now. He glanced at the clock. It was four in the afternoon. Well, it was five o’clock somewhere.

  He stood up and went to toss the notes he’d made into the trash. But then he stopped himself and stared at the
paper in front of him. Without realizing it, he’d doodled all over the paper, little designs here and there, along with the Dapper Dick’s bow tie.

  He didn’t want to give up again. Giving up was turning out to be more exhausting and demoralizing than plunging ahead. He’d talk to Marley, because she always had a way of making him feel worth something.

  There had to be odd jobs he could pick up, something he could do to get some more cash quickly to build up his savings.

  So he sat back down at the computer, placed his hands on the keyboard, and began to research financial aid. The beer could wait.

  …

  Owen wasn’t sure if it was reality or imagination that he’d been called into Marley’s office more in the last three days than he’d been in there all month.

  But it sure felt like it, as if his boss knew that talking about work while facing a picture of the guy who’d sucked him off on Saturday was the worst kind of torture.

  He couldn’t get Chad out of his head, no matter how hard he tried. He’d even researched that centaur character but could find nothing like what he’d seen on Chad’s computer. And he couldn’t ask Marley, because how the hell would he explain why he was over at Chad’s place? So he stewed and thought about that beautiful art and what it’d been like to have Chad under him.

  Owen blew out a breath and deleted the email Marley had just sent him, asking him to come to her office.

  For so long, Chad had been one-dimensional in Owen’s head, and it’d been easy to classify him as Marley’s wild younger brother, the guy Marley always had a funny, unbelievable story about.

  But now Owen had met Chad, and despite that he wanted to keep him flat, Chad was slowly ballooning into a 3-D person. A guy with feelings and secrets. He wasn’t classified now. Not at all. He was in the breeze, all on his own, and Owen didn’t like it when he couldn’t pin someone down and figure them out quickly.

  He took a deep breath and spun in his chair.

  One thing he knew for sure was that he couldn’t get enough of Chad’s body. And that mouth. He liked what it could do and liked the words that came out of it, even when they annoyed him. Chad was unpredictable, and before this, Owen would have vowed that he wanted the opposite of unpredictable. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

  He was seeing Chad again tonight. They were heading to a couple of parks that had stages or amphitheaters. And what was the hardest of all right now was keeping two very huge secrets from Marley—one of his few friends and the woman he worked with every single day.

  He stood up and made his way to her office. She was inside, working on her computer, and Chad’s picture taunted him from the shelf.

  So now that you got me down here, what’re you gonna do?

  Owen shook his head to rid it of Chad’s voice and sat down. “Hey, Marley.”

  She blew out a breath so the strand of hair in front of her face shifted out of her eyes. “Hey.”

  “You look stressed.”

  “I am stressed. Grant is driving me crazy. God love him, he’s growing this business, but he’s overextending himself and me and I’m about to slip him some sleeping pills so he’ll calm the hell down.”

  “What’s going on now?”

  She shifted away from her computer and clasped her hands over her desk. “So Grant is trying to woo this software company to advertise in the magazine, and he invited the vice president down here. Except he screwed up the scheduling, and he and I will be at a conference.”

  Owen tapped his fingers on the chair. “Can you reschedule?”

  “The conference?”

  “No, the client meeting.”

  Marley shook her head. “No can do.”

  “So what’s the alternative?”

  Marley eyed him, her lips twisted into a little bit of a grimace. Owen’s stomach dropped. “Wait—”

  “You know the company better than anyone—”

  “What about James?” The editor-in-chief, Marley’s direct boss, could surely handle this.

  Marley rolled her eyes. “He’ll be at the conference with us.”

  “So—”

  “So unless we can find a way to get one of us out of the conference, I think you’re up, buddy.”

  Owen rubbed his forehead as a headache began to form. His first instinct was to say, “Hell, no.” And a year ago, he would have said that. But a small part of him—okay, a large part—was flattered that he’d been asked rather than a member of the sales team or art department. Him. Asked to represent the company. He’d wanted visibility, and this was it, right here, handed to him.

  So why did he feel ill?

  “All you have to do is take them out,” Marley said. “Grant will make the plans and reservations. You just have to show up. Okay? And be friendly and…charming.” She winced.

  He frowned. “Why are you making that face? Are you saying I’m not charming?”

  Marley’s eyes went wide. “What? I’m not making a face.”

  “You were totally making a face. Like calling me charming was physically painful.”

  “I love you, Owen, and you have many, many talents, but I wouldn’t say that social skills are your forte.”

  Hell. His confidence vaporized. “Then maybe—”

  “Sorry, Grant already made the decision. You’re up if one of us can’t show. Because you do know the business the best, and Grant is confident you’ll make a good first impression.”

  He swallowed and forced a smile. “I appreciate that you guys thought of me.”

  Marley grinned. It was Chad’s grin, and it made Owen feel uncomfortable. “I’d love to know what you’re really thinking, but for what it’s worth, you’re welcome.”

  He pressed his lips together.

  She laughed, and it was Chad’s laugh, and holy shit, Owen really needed to get the hell out of this office. “Okay, so we’re good.”

  “Is there anything else you need from me, or do you enjoy calling me into your office five times a day?”

  “It’s a ten-foot walk, Owen. Quit whining.”

  Owen stood up. “I’m heading to the break room. Want something?”

  Marley squinted. “Are the doughnuts Sue brought this morning still there?”

  “I don’t know. There were a dozen and you ate eleven, right?”

  Marley threw a piece of paper at him. “I hate you. Get me a damn doughnut.”

  “Yes, your highness.”

  He walked out of her office, wondering if he’d faked his confidence well. Marley had probably seen through it, but fake it till you make it, right?

  Chapter Seven

  By the time Owen was standing in Cassidy Park, waiting for Chad to arrive, he was itching to get his hands on the man. He hadn’t eaten much all day, so maybe he was a little delirious, but he wanted to feel Chad’s skin, wanted to taste his mouth.

  He wanted him like he hadn’t wanted anyone, ever.

  Like he wasn’t sure he’d want anyone again.

  He heard Chad before he saw him, the rumbling pipes of his motorcycle as he came into the parking lot at a speed that Owen didn’t find appropriate at all.

  Chad’s hair was flying on his helmet-less head, and when he parked, he looked up and shot Owen a shit-eating grin. His gaze dipped to Owen’s throat, where he wore a bow tie, then back up to Owen’s face. That grin got bigger. And Owen got hard. He reached up and ran his fingers over the silk fabric. It was green today with white polka dots. He wore it with a pale blue shirt. This bow tie was one of his favorites, and if he was reading Chad’s expression correctly, the other man liked it, too.

  Chad kicked down the stand and stepped off his bike. He ran a casual hand through his windblown hair and made his way toward Owen with a saunter that was signature Chad.

  Something bright and hot flared in Owen’s chest, and he slid a finger under his collar to let some cool air soothe the heat of his flushed skin. He glanced around, but the parking lot was empty of people and they were in a secluded spot under a grove of trees. When Chad
was within touching distance, Owen grabbed him by the lapel of his leather jacket and pulled him against his body.

  Chad didn’t protest, but he didn’t let Owen direct the kiss, either. He fought it, his tongue dueling with Owen’s. All teeth and harsh breaths. Owen pulled away and ran his hand over Chad’s dark hair. “You need a helmet.”

  “No, I don’t. It’s not against the law here in PA.” Chad paused, then smiled. “Not that it would stop me from going without anyway.”

  “It’s not safe,” Owen insisted.

  Chad cocked his head. “Aw, you’re acting like you actually care about what happens to me. That’s sweet.”

  “It’s not being sweet, it’s called being concerned about your head cracking open on the street.”

  “Damn, you’re a buzzkill.” Chad tugged on Owen’s bow tie, then walked past him, their shoulders brushing. “Come on, let’s go do this thing.”

  Cassidy Park was several acres, home to a couple playgrounds and sports fields and even a roller-hockey rink. The biggest attraction was a stage with stone amphitheater seats. According to an email Austin had sent Owen, he wanted a large area where he could set up props and enough room for their closest family and friends to see the stage.

  Austin was the developer of a video game called Aric’s Revenge, which sold a gazillion copies and was made into a movie. Last year, Austin and Marley had cosplayed as characters in the game—the warrior Aric and his wife, Evelyn. For the proposal, Austin wanted to recreate the throne room Aric conquers at the end of the game. Nerdy? Yes. Perfect for Marley? Absolutely. The woman took her video games and cosplay seriously.

  Owen snapped pictures while he directed Chad where to stand to include him in the shots for scale. Owen made a note in his notebook. “How tall are you?”

  “Five eleven.”

  Owen didn’t answer as he jotted it down to give Austin an idea of how much space a person would take up on the stage.

  “I weigh one seventy-five.”

  “That’s great, Chad. I only needed your height.”

  “My shoe size is eleven.”

  Owen didn’t answer. Chad’s voice was closer now, as he jumped off the stage and walked toward Owen. “I’m like six inches soft, but when I’m hard—”