“I thought it was just a stupid toy,” I say.
I chuckle, smirking, so my best friend knows I’m kidding.
“I’m only busting your balls when I say that. I’m glad to see you let lose a little bit, have some fun, even if it’s only in the game.”
I run a hand through my silver hair, almost blurting it all out right there. I almost tell him how badly I need to see her, to learn her real name, to be with her. But then the moment passes and my sanity returns.
If he knew the crazy path my thoughts were taking – find her, fuck her savagely, flood her nineteen year old body with my seed – he’d probably send me for a mental examination.
Would he be wrong?
I’ve never seen her, and yet I can’t stop thinking about a future together, a family, a life.
Steve carries the coffees over and sets them down, taking his seat. “What if she freaks when she finds out who you are?”
“I know. I’ve thought of that.”
“And?” he asks.
I shrug. “I don’t know. That’s the thing. I don’t know anything when it comes to Gen. Hell, Gen isn’t even her name.”
“You could easily track her down.”
I glance sharply at him. “I know that. But I don’t want to violate her privacy.”
Steve nods. “That’s what I thought you’d say. But it’s an option. You wouldn’t have to talk to her, just go by her place, get a look at her, see if you still feel the same. She’d never even know.”
I tighten my grip on the mug, burning my palm.
It would be an easy thing to do, to get ahold of her IP address and then find her real address. But the thought leaves me queasy.
“I want it to be her choice,” I tell him.
“What if she says she never wants to meet?”
My stomach tightens and that same primal voice bellows inside of me, telling me that simply isn’t an option. Gen and I have roamed the stars together, fought off pirates and raiders, built a ship together.
I want to transition that to reality, to build something else with her, something real.
“She might agree to meet. I only asked her just now. She needs time to mull it over.”
Steve shrugs, a smile toying with his lips.
I smirk. “What are you grinning about?”
“Do you remember whose idea it was, to mask the voices of the players?”
I chuckle grimly. “Yeah, and it was a good idea. It just so happens to be working against me right now.”
Steve opens his mouth to speak, but then the conference phone begins to ring. I sit up, trying my best to push thoughts of my mystery woman aside and focus on business.
Chapter Three
Madelyn
Jess gapes at me when I tell her about Smolder wanting to meet. She’s got a little Genevieve in her, with her high cheekbones and her slim athletic build.
“What did you say?” she asks, eager to know my response.
Even in the loud clattering of the campus cafeteria, Jess’s voice rings out loudly. She brushes a hand through her blonde hair, staring at me wide-eyed as she awaits my response.
“I told him no.”
“Why?” Her voice is softer now. “You know, apart from the fact he could be a serial killer or a squirrel stuffer?”
I giggle. Trust my imaginative writer friend to come up with something crazy like that. “A squirrel stuffer?”
“Yeah.” She beams. “A freak who collects dead squirrels and stuffs them like a weirdo.”
“No… I mean, yes, that is a concern. What we have in the game, I know it’s silly, but it’s so nice, so easy. I don’t want to ruin that. But there’s also the matter of, well, me.”
“You?” She narrows her eyes. “I don’t understand.”
“You’ve seen my character in the game.”
“Yeah.”
“And you’ve seen me.”
She frowns. “Maddie…”
“So there’s your answer.”
I try to keep the snappishness out of my voice. It’s not Jess’s fault I don’t like the way I look.
“So what, you think he’s going to be disappointed?”
“I think that’s pretty much a guarantee, honestly.”
“Oh, Maddie. I wish you wouldn’t talk about yourself like that. You’re beautiful.”
We’re sitting near the window and it’s an overcast autumn day, meaning I can see my reflection in the glass. My brown hair is tied back in a messy ponytail and I’m wearing a baggy hoodie and baggier jeans, hiding my natural curves.
“I don’t know if I’d use that word,” I tell her.
“Well, I would.”
I smile. “Thanks, Jess. I don’t mean to throw a pity party.”
“I asked,” she says sighs.
We pause when the coasters on our table vibrate letting us our food is ready to collect. Jess snatches mine up with a grin and a wink. We take turns collecting our lunch, as though marking the rare occasions when our schedules mean we can eat together.
Jess and I have been friends since we were kids, growing up in the city together, and when it turned out we could both study here and not sacrifice our futures, we freaked. It was such a huge relief, to know I wouldn’t have to lose my best friend.