Gamed (A Standalone Romance Novel) (Bad Boy Romance) Read online

  "Is that why you know so much about Dark Flag?" Quinn bit her lip again as she tried a new spell.

  "No," I said, forcing my eyes to stay on the screen. "I'm just really good."

  Quinn paused her avatar, whose heaving breasts and skin-tight suit were not helping me at all. "So you didn't do any Beta testing on Dark Flag, you just picked it up and became the all-conquering Light Slayer?"

  "Yes. And before you ask, I had the sponsorships beforehand."

  "Wow. So you really are that good," she said.

  I reactivated her avatar and kept playing. "You'll figure it out too. I mean, you've only been playing for a few days and you can keep up with me. I'm thinking you could be a good protégé."

  Quinn bounced forward on the leather sofa. "God, how great would that be? I really want something I can just throw my whole self into, you know? That's what's so hard about the nursing program. Everywhere all around me, classmates are doing exactly what they always wanted to do. And every day, I'm wondering why I don't feel the same way too."

  "But you feel that way playing Dark Flag?"

  "Yeah, I know. It’s corny and I'm sure it just seems like a convenient escape."

  "No," I said, squeezing her knee. "As long as you want to really learn about all of it and not just play for fun."

  "Show me," Quinn said.

  I gripped my controller. It had been days, no, years since I saw Quinn look so inspired. She had been dutiful, responsible, and practical. But none of those things lit her from within like she was now. The fact that doing what I loved had the same effect on her was too good to be true. My blood was pumping.

  I brought up two hidden menus that showed some of the master commands. "Knowing how to find things like this is part of my super power," I said.

  "All those years of Beta testing paying off, huh?" Her chocolate brown eyes flew over the new information.

  "Don't worry, it’s not completely unfair. Stuff like this is all over the internet. A few hours of research and you could find it," I said.

  "Ooo, what's a Portal Spell?" Quinn asked. Her lithe fingers were already trying out the sequence over the top of her controller buttons.

  "It sends you and any chosen player into a private space. A lot of people use it during combat," I said.

  "Oops," Quinn said.

  She had accomplished the tricky sequence and now our avatars were alone in the great hall of an abandoned castle. Anxious messages flashed from my clan members, and I sent them all our coded message for “stick to the plan.” While Quinn's avatar shimmied across the wide open hall, my clan was still preparing to cross the Black Fields and take the next stronghold.

  "This is so cool," Quinn said. "Once you get the hang of it, it can almost move like a real person. I bet it almost feels natural to you."

  "That's the whole point," I said. It was hard to take my eyes off her now graceful avatar, but Quinn herself was irresistible. "We've gotten to the point in gaming when you can actually step into whole other worlds."

  "And do things you would never dream of doing in real life," Quinn said.

  Her eyes were on mine, the chocolate brown melting as I returned her look. "That's the attraction for a lot of people."

  "Not for you?" she asked.

  I put my controller down and took her hand. "No. I spent a lot of my life setting aside what I really wanted to do. That's over now."

  Her lips only inches from mine. I wanted to move, to kiss her, but I could not. Our eyes held as if some greater force had paused us there.

  #

  I took a deep breath. "We should go to Vegas."

  Quinn's eyes opened wider, and I wondered what she thought I meant.

  "There's a great arcade, lots of people. A lot of people there like Dark Flag. You'll get good experience," I said.

  She laughed and sat back. "Sure. Sounds great. I was thinking about heading back to school, anyway. I don't want to spend another night with my parents."

  "Do you need to call them?" I asked.

  Quinn shrugged. "They didn't notice I was gone in the first place. I'll wait for them to call me."

  We headed towards the Vegas Strip, the lights growing brighter. Neon suddenly towered up above us. Quinn smiled, her face raised to the multi-colored lights.

  "Do you like Vegas?" I asked. It was always a topic of discussion amongst people who had grown up in the area. Those that hated it moved away to places like Los Angeles.

  "I do. When I was little, Vegas felt like something out of a fairy tale. Like you could drink a magic potion and everything would be like in Wonderland," Quinn said.

  "And now?"

  "It’s a good place to disappear for a while. There are so many tourists here that it is easy to pretend to be someone else."

  I drove towards the Excalibur Casino. In the basement was a huge and silly arcade. Somehow, looking at Quinn's face under the neon lights, going to an arcade did not feel right.

  "I know a good bar near here. More locals than tourists, but still a fun place to be someone else for a while," I said.

  Quinn smiled and I parked in a ramp. We walked the long block to the bar. It was a small dive bar wedged between a large casino and a cowboy-themed restaurant. We paused for a moment to marvel at the amount of tourists that had either packed or worn their cowboy boots on the airplane.

  "He even has spurs. Do they allow those in the casinos?" Quinn asked.

  "Luckily, they look about as dull as he is," I said.

  We headed inside the bar and found a high-backed booth near the back. It sat across the back wall so we both had an excellent view of the door.

  "I'm going to bet she is from North Dakota," Quinn nodded towards a particularly pale tourist who was shivering in a tank top.

  "Too bad no one told her it gets cold in the desert at night," I said.

  "This place is bigger than I thought," Quinn observed.

  I enjoyed watching her look around the familiar bar. It had one long, scarred wooden bar, the line of booths we sat in, two pool tables, a darts corner, and a small sunken dance floor that remained packed at all times. The windows had steamed up from the dancers already in motion.

  "I found this place a few years back," I said. "And you didn't think I went out."

  Quinn smiled. "Let me guess, you came here to dance."

  "Not exactly my thing. Do you like to dance?" I asked. I could imagine her moving easily among the gyrating people. The image was very tempting.

  "Yeah. Trent and I love, I mean, we loved to dance," Quinn said. Her eyes drifted back to the small dance floor and I saw them go wide again. "Oh, my God. Speak of the devil."

  I signaled the waiter to bring us two shots and two beers. Quinn looked like she definitely needed another drink. Then, I turned to look in the direction she was staring. I caught sight of a tall, lanky man with dyed white hair. He stuck out in the crowd, not only for his hair, but for his wild moves. Trent was drawing as much attention to himself as possible.

  "Please tell me that is not your ex-boyfriend," I said, even though I knew it was.

  "Do you think he's here with that guy?"

  "If they didn't come together, I would not be surprised if they left together. Shit, sorry, Quinn."

  "No, it's alright. Obviously he's really broken up over our break-up," she said. She pulled out her phone.

  "No. Wait. What are you doing?" I asked. I lunged across the booth for her phone, but she pulled back.

  "Just letting him know that I'm at my parents if he wants to come and talk."

  "You think he's going to make the four-hour drive from UCLA to talk about your relationship?" I asked.

  "You would. Wouldn't you?" Quinn said.

  I was glad the drinks arrived. Before she noticed, I tipped back both shots and signaled the waiter for another round. Watching Quinn be tortured by an obviously awful ex-boyfriend was going to take a high level of intoxication.

  "Besides," Quinn said, typing furiously on her phone, "he's not in L.A., he's here
. So it would be easy for him to tell me he was already on his way. You know, play the hero."

  Trent's flailing arms dropped when she pressed send. In the midst of the dance floor, he pulled his phone from his pocket and checked it. A pleased smile spread across his face before he shoved the phone back in his pocket without a response.

  Quinn grabbed her beer with both hands and groaned into the foam. "Oh God, of course. He doesn't even care. Did you see that smile? All he cares about is that I still have feelings for him."

  "Do you?" From where I sat, he looked like a grade A douchebag.

  "Yes. No. We were never really that serious but it still hurts, you know? He just used me to feed his ego," Quinn said. She picked up the pint and took a long drink. "Hey, didn't you order shots?"

  I laughed. "Yeah, they're on their way. So, besides getting drunk, what are you going to do?"

  She took another long drink. "I suppose you would not help me with a Coyote Ugly type take-over, would you?"

  "Sweetheart, there is not enough alcohol in this bar for that," I said. "I'm sure there are other ways you could make him jealous. Is he really worth that much effort?"

  She looked back at the dance floor. Trent was sandwiched between two enthusiastic girls while flirting with the man over their heads. "He was always the life of the party."

  "That's a terrible reason to stay with someone," I said.

  "Yeah, I know. I guess it was just sort of effortless," Quinn said. "We got together, had fun, and never fought."

  "Until you caught him with another guy."

  The shots arrived and Quinn grabbed hers immediately. "Yeah, there is that. Ugh, I can't get that out of my head."

  "This might help. Cheers," I said. We knocked back the shots. "Alright, now that you've had that, I have to say he looks like a complete asshat."

  Quinn laughed. "That's exactly what Sienna said. She made me promise she could be there when he met our parents. Can you imagine?"

  "So, I still don't get it," I said. "Why did you date him?"

  She scrunched up her nose and gave me an adorable, cringing smile. "He was a good kisser."

  "Next round is on you and now I definitely need another shot," I said.

  Quinn's smile faded as she watched him flirting around the dance floor. "I wonder why he dated me."

  "Are you kidding?" I asked. I got up and joined her on her side of the booth. "Just look at you."

  "Exactly. I'm dressed as if I've been hanging out in my parents’ basement. Oh, wait, that's exactly what I've been doing."

  "We can fix that," I said. "May I?"

  She held her hands up, her beer in one. "Be my guest."

  I dug both hands into her chestnut hair. It was just as thick and soft as I always imagined. I rubbed my fingers along her scalp and avoided her eyes. "Didn't your sister teach you the trick for fuller and perfectly mussed hair?"

  Quinn slapped my hands away. "Alright, fine." She fluffed her roots up then combed her fingers through the shiny waves.

  "Now unbutton the bottom buttons, tie them in a bow," I said, eyeing her light blue shirt. "And take my belt. Cinch it tight around that tight little waist."

  Quinn giggled and stood up to follow my directions. A glimpse of her flat stomach had me reeling harder than the shots. "How's this?"

  I reached up. "Just a few more buttons to undo here." I slowly undid two buttons to reveal the smooth, perfect tops of her breasts.

  "Is he looking?" Quinn asked.

  "Use both hands to flip your hair and wiggle your hips a little while you do it," I said. My voice was gruff, but she heard me.

  Raising her hands up revealed more of her flat stomach and tight waist. More than a few customers appreciated her curves. Then, Quinn shook her hands through her long hair and more heads turned. I sat frozen in the booth. If I stood up, I would take her in my arms and never let go.

  "Oh my God, I think it worked. Is he coming over?" Quinn asked. She shifted from foot to foot, letting her hips sway.

  "What? Oh, yeah. Looks like he's coming over. Oh, and he is not looking happy," I said.

  Quinn's strawberry lips curled. "Good. Now what?"

  "You want to make him jealous, right?" I asked, my heart hammering.

  "Yes. He deserves it, don't you think?"

  "Who the hell cares about him?" I said.

  I stood up and slid my hands around Quinn's waist. My fingertips touched bare skin under her light blue shirt. It was like silk and suddenly, I was on fire. I pulled her hard against me, bending her back as my lips captured hers.

  Quinn tasted like heaven – a strawberry kiss with just a hint of intoxication. She breathed in, the shock registering in a soft gasp. The sound ignited me further, and I raised a hand to tangle in the back of her hair. With her head cradled in my hand, I bent her farther back and devoured her sweet lips.

  She stumbled back a step and her arms locked around my neck for support. I stood up, bringing her up on her tip toes and against my body. Quinn fit every contour, yet she was not close enough. I needed more of her along every inch of me.

  She leaned into me, her lips parting, and her tongue running along my lower lip. I growled under my breath, losing control. Our tongues tangled, the delicious friction driving me farther from rational thought.

  "Quinn? What the hell are you doing?" Trent asked.

  I felt him put a hand on my shoulder and try to pry us apart. She broke the kiss, but her chocolate eyes stayed riveted to mine.

  "She's doing whatever the hell she wants. What's it to you, Q-Tip?" I asked.

  Trent's face turned a ruddy red. "That's my girlfriend," he snarled.

  "You've got to be kidding me," Quinn said. She pushed between us and jabbed Trent in the chest. "Don't you remember when I caught you having sex with John and we broke up? It really wasn't that long ago."

  The bar crowd was very interested and suddenly, Trent was getting all the jeers instead of me. He looked shocked, as if he had never been without the support and positive attention of an entire room.

  "He cheated on you with another man?" I said at high volume.

  Trent stepped back. "Come on, Quinn. We can work this out. I love you."

  "Liar," Quinn said. She tossed her hair and my heart soared. "I just texted you with that same exact suggestion and you didn't even stop dancing to respond."

  The crowd had definitely turned on Trent. Quinn stood with her hands on her hips. If my clenched fist and the combined disapproval of the other drinkers were not enough, the look on her face was enough to make him turn tail and run.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Quinn

  It was impossible to concentrate in class. The lecturer was doing her best with slides and models and some of the most graphic photographs any of us had seen. It did not matter. All I could think about was Owen.

  The kiss had been like honey – slow, sweet, and it had clung to my lips long after Trent interrupted us. Owen had laughed all the way home about the look on Trent's face. I wanted to revel in it too, but I could still taste Owen on my lips. How could he kiss me like that and then pretend it was nothing?

  The lecturer started on a new procedure and I tried to take notes on the research. Three bullet points and my mind was off on another daydream. I kept dreaming up scenarios in which Owen and I would have to kiss again. Maybe he was being pursued by some video game groupie and he wanted to put her off nicely. Or I was being flirted with by some wildly inappropriate man and Owen took my safety into his own hands.

  No matter what scheme I created, I knew deep down that might have been the last kiss I ever shared with Owen.

  "How was class?" Darla asked when I returned to our dorm room. She sat cross-legged on my bed with a still-steaming cup of coffee.

  "I have no idea," I said. "Thanks for the coffee. What's the occasion?"

  "Well, for one, I'm glad you are back," Darla said. She moved over and made room for me to sit down. "And secondly, it’s been too long since we had a little gossip session." />
  My heart tripped. I loved gossip, but there had been too much about me lately. It was still hard to walk around campus without people offering condolences or whispering about Sienna behind my back. Plus, Trent had been seen all over campus making out with various men and our break-up was public news.

  I sipped my coffee. "I heard some students might protest tomorrow. A sit-in outside the admin office."

  Darla shook her head. "Want to know what I heard?" she asked.

  "I have a feeling I don't want to know at all."

  "Too bad because what I heard is just way too delicious not to talk about. I mean, you can trust me, we'll gossip about it, but nothing will leave this room," Darla said.

  "Oh, God, it must be worse than I thought. What did Trent do now?"

  "Trent? You mean besides mope, weep, and have jealous fits all over campus?" Darla took a quick sip of her coffee but could not be coy for more than four seconds. "Alright, so Trent told everyone he caught you making out with some stud in Vegas. I asked him about it and turns out I've met the guy. Haven't I?"

  "No," I said.

  Darla slapped my shoulder. "No way. You are a terrible liar, Quinn. You kissed Owen, didn't you?"

  "No. He kissed me," I said. "And it was only to make Trent jealous. He was just being a good friend."

  "Well, I have it on good authority that it was a hot and heavy make-everyone-in-the-bar-jealous kind of a kiss," Darla said.

  "That's good, right?" I asked, hoping to steer the conversation in a better direction. "And it sounds like it worked. So, Trent is really jealous?"

  "Oh, who cares about him?" Darla asked. "Tell me more about Owen! I know you've been not so secretly in love with him forever. Bet that kiss made it feel more than reciprocated, am I right?"

  My shoulders slumped. "I have no idea. Owen never said anything afterwards."

  "And what about you?"

  "What do you think?"

  Darla sighed. "That you melt at the thought of it and think about it all the time. I know I would."

  "Oh my God, Darla. What am I going to do?"

  "Answer your phone, that's for sure," she said. Darla handed me my phone.

  It was Owen.

  "Hello?" I asked.