Page 10

Chapter Seven

It's such a relief to have that first critique session with my new work over. I hadn't realized how stressful it was going to be to take critiques about a new heat level.

As soon as I step inside the house I'm tempted to creep upstairs to my room and hide away, but because tonight's critique session went so well, there will be higher expectations for my next set of pages.

Which means I need to do more research. Which means I should probably put in some face time with my boyfriends.

Dropping my bag by the foot of the stairs—if I bring it to my room, I know I won't come back down—I venture deeper into the house in search of my roommates.

Maybe they're shut up in their computer room again where I'm not allowed.

Or upstairs in their own individual rooms. I'd consider either option lucky, but then I wouldn't be doing what I need to here. Collecting inspiration for my books.

There's a lot of chatter and noise coming from back near the kitchen, so I head that way.

And … no one is there.

However, there is a door that's partly opened. I'd thought it was a pantry or broom cupboard, but now I see that it seems to be a basement. This is an older house, and I'm sure it's going to be super creepy down there. The things authors do for their careers .

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, then open them and start down the stairs. Hopefully there are no cobwebs. Or mice.

The steps are a little rickety, and as soon as I'm part way down, I squat down so I can peek between the railing bars to see what I'm walking into, hoping none of my roommates sees me first.

It's dark down there. The walls are dark.

The ceiling is dark. The floor is dark. There's an oversized black sofa in the middle of the room facing a projector screen.

Helix stands by the screen, pointing things out using big sweeping hand movements.

The others watch intently from the sofa, but I'm not sure what they're watching.

It must be paused at the moment because nothing is moving.

It's almost like a big map with weirdly bright colors in the corners, blues and purples.

I can't tell if they're working or not, but they never said I couldn't come down here. Of course, they hadn't shown me that this room exists, either.

Though they'd also never shown me that the kitchen exists, but I'm still allowed to use it.

It doesn't matter . I stop arguing with myself and scoot a little farther down the stairs to see better.

"You can come down and join us if you want," says Miles, glancing over at where I crouch on the dark stairs.

I stand and force my legs to carry me down the stairs into the room. The only light in the room is from the projector screen, and I'm careful not to trip over anything as I make my way through the dark. I'm not sure where to sit, and finally settle on perching on the back of the U-shaped sofa.

Maybe my new boyfriends don't know what to do either now that I'm here in their space. Maybe they aren't as confident as I thought. Maybe they're also figuring this out as we go.

"So … what are you watching?" It's the most basic question I can think of to ask.

It's not like I can ask what they want from me, or why they let me hole up in my room for a few days and didn't pressure me to give up any of the benefits they'd hired me for, even though I desperately want the answers to those questions.

"We're going over game footage for the next team we scrim," explains Helix, looking around the group for backup.

"This way we can see what their go-to moves are. Learn their patterns and weaknesses," adds Quintin. "Choose our champions wisely so we can counter their damage."

"Oh, like the way football teams analyze their own games or the games of the teams they're about to go up against." I didn't realize gamers would do the same. I mean, from how much they seem to play their game, I assumed they were serious about it, but I didn't realize it would go so far as this.

"Yes, exactly like football teams," says Helix, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "Because esports are real sports."

"Oh, yeah, of course." I shift uncomfortably on the back of the sofa. I didn't mean to insult them, but I've never met an esport team before them. I've never even met a single player. Or at least not someone who openly admitted to being a professional esport player.

There's an awkward silence that none of us seems to know how to fill. But if I were trying to date these guys for real, I would take an interest in what they do for a living. I try again.

"So have you found any weaknesses you can exploit?" I ask, then wonder if I shouldn’t have said anything else. I'm completely in the weeds here, and I don't want to be in the way. I'd rather they keep going, pretend I'm not here, and let me listen. It'd be its own type of research.

"The other team tends to counter jungle, so we're going to choose champions with ward abilities to block off not only the jungle entrances, but the gank paths too," explains Helix, pointing out different areas on the map.

"Of course, each of those potential champions have weaknesses of their own, and we'll need to weigh out if they're worth the risks. "

"That sounds like a difficult choice.” I've got no idea what they're really talking about, but it does sound complicated and like they're making a big decision. However, it's just a silly game, so I'm not sure why it matters.

"It really is," agrees Miles. "Their team often chooses the same characters each time though, so that at least helps."

"It'll be a clown fiesta no matter what," says Quintin, looking around at his teammates. "You know they're not having a strategy meeting right now."

"Don't be toxic, Arrow," complains Lionel. "We need to stay on top of our play. If they want to be feeders, that's their choice."

"This next scrim will help prep us for the next rank game," Ethan points out in his soft voice. "It's all part of the training so we can make it to the top."

"Yikes, this all sounds a lot more complicated than I thought it would be." Who knew computer games could be so involved? I'd thought they sit down, bash a few monsters, steal the flag, and then declare victory. But apparently there's actual strategy to this game.

"That's why this pays so much," says Helix. "It's a lot of work and a lot of effort, but if you can make it, it's worth it."

"Is that why you all do it?" I find myself wanting to understand these guys I find myself living with. What brought them together? What holds them together as a unit?

"This is what we enjoy," whispers Ethan.

"Why would we want to be stuck in a cubicle all day when we can play games we're good at and get paid?" adds Miles as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Which, I have to admit, is a fair point.

"But aren't you stuck inside all day anyway? I didn't see any windows in your computer room and there's no light in here." I look around at the darkness to make my point.

"It's different." Helix shakes his head. "This is our choice. When it's your choice, you're willing to do anything to chase your dream."

His argument sounds a lot like the one I've used to justify my current situation.

Maybe we have more in common than I thought. Maybe … I could actually be friends with these guys. It'd make the sex a lot less awkward.

Or maybe it'd make it more awkward.

"Speaking of being stuck inside all the time," interjects Lionel, "you've spent a lot of time shut up in your room lately."

Heat rises in my face. I knew at some point they would call me out and demand all the benefits they've missed out on over the last couple of days.

I shouldn't have come down here. I shouldn't have sought them out. I'm not their friend, I'm their hired sex toy.

I mean, hired girlfriend .

"So it's not like you can talk because you haven't gone outside in days," Lionel continues, interrupting my panic spiral.

"Maybe I've left every day," I counter. "You've all been so focused on gaming, you never noticed."

"Your shoes have been in exactly the same position. If you'd left, they would be slightly different," says Miles.

"Maybe I have multiple pairs of shoes." I don't know why I'm arguing. But I am surprised by the interest they've taken in my whereabouts. I wonder how far their curiosity stretched. Did any of them walk by my room and listen to hear if I was inside?

Were any of them were tempted to come find me for sex?

Did I want them to barge in and say, "This is happening now!"? Did I want them to leave me no choice in the matter?

"Do you have multiple pairs of shoes?" asks Quintin, snapping me back to the present.

"Of course I do." Everyone has multiple pairs of shoes for different occasions and weather. "But … you're right. I didn't go out. I was working."

I hope they'll let me leave it at that. What else can I say? That I was avoiding them and the sex that I'm certain they want from me?

"At least you get to work from home instead of having to go into the office. But even that little bit of freedom wouldn't be enough at some point," says Helix. "Not for me."

"Nor me," says Lionel.

"Same," adds Ethan as the others nod in agreement.

Well, that was certainly easier than I thought it would be. Either they have absolutely no real interest in me as a person, or they really can't imagine that anyone else would decide to pursue a career outside of the normal nine to five.

"Where did you go tonight?" asks Quintin.

The other gamers all shoot him a look, as if they can't believe he is asking me such a question, and then return their focus to me. I guess he's paying even more attention to my shoes than Miles. I'm not sure if that's weird or sweet.

"Did you go out with a guy?" asks Miles, his voice sharp. "Because we've hired you to be our girlfriend, and it should go without saying that that means you can't be dating other people."

I can't help but roll my eyes.

"I met some girlfriends for a drink. We usually meet at least once a week to catch up with each other."

And to talk about sex and romance and imaginary characters who live in our heads.

Lionel smirks. "So you're going to come home tipsy at least once a week?"

Miles frowns at Lionel and then focuses on me. "Is that safe?"

I start to protest that I'm allowed to go outside by myself.

"No," says Miles, shutting down anything I was about to say. "I mean, like, safe to walk home alone after drinking. Should one of us go meet you and walk you home, or did your friends walk you?"

I open my mouth again to protest, but immediately close it again. I'd been prepared for Miles to say something controlling, like that I can't talk to any guy without the team's permission. Instead, he's worried about my safety.

"I'm good," I say. "It's not far from here to the train station."

"Well, if you change your mind, let us know," says Miles, sitting back on the sofa and switching his attention back to the projector screen and Helix.

I could take this as an out and head back upstairs. I did come down here to spend some time with them, and I have.

But I know this wasn't really what my goal in coming down here was.

"Mind if I join you then for the rest of your strategy session?

" I move around the edge of the sofa and squeeze myself between Quintin and Miles.

It's the most room I can see on the sofa even though they barely shift over for me, and if I hadn't been drinking, I wouldn't have tried it, but the wine has made me brave.

"Uh, sure," says Quintin, looking around at the others to see what to do. "But why?"

"You've all hired me to be your girlfriend, I should try to understand what you do for your job." That sounds plausible enough.

"Does that mean we should take an interest in your job? And all the personal details of your life?" asks Ethan, leaning around Quintin.

"Nope." I stretch out my legs and rest my feet on the coffee table in front of me after making sure there isn't any food on there, just cans of energy drinks.

If they don't want their drinks near my socked feet, they can move them.

"That's not how this works. You hired me to be you girlfriend, so we'll keep this professional and sexual. "