Chapter Twenty-Nine
Carina
I was an idiot for saying anything, and as usual had ruined a good moment by asking for what no man was ever willing to give me. Jackson had told me he loved me, possibly, but the way he’d spat the words out like they had to be wrenched out of him made me feel worse than ever.
I moved as far away from him as I could and gave him the space I was sure he needed after my clinging to him like a high school stalker. If only he understood what it had been like, being harassed and assaulted on every side by men and boys alike who saw me as some sort of orgasm-producing object, only worth having if I was sexy or silent. God forbid I break wind or eat a meal that consisted of something other than lettuce.
For years, I was the “playmate girlfriend” or the “model” to the men I slept with. I was a fucking check mark on somebody’s bucket list that had nothing to do with how I felt, or what I deserved. Jackson liked the gamer. He seemed ready to compete with the beer-drinker, and he seemed to love the cosplayer most of all. What he liked best about me, were the parts that had narrowed my world to a few trusted fellow-geeks when Donatella, Dior, and Victoria’s Secret had turned their backs on me.
I rolled over and watched him, lying on his back with his eyes closed, Stiles perched on his stomach demanding attention. I poked at the cat until he glared balefully at me and sulked off to wait by his food bowl in the kitchen.
“I wonder where he learned to be such a damned attention whore,” I scoffed.
Jackson let out a startled laugh and opened an eye to peer at me. “I can’t imagine. He drawled. His eye closed, and we laid there, side by side, as the sky darkened, lengthening the shadows that fell across the bed.
“Are you hungry?” I inched closer. My heart was breaking itself against my ribcage, threatening to escape with every beat. I reached out and touched his shoulder, and he placed his hand over mine. I stiffened, waited for him to push me away, but he simply held my hand against his skin until his shoulder was warm from my touch.
“Are any of the groceries you bought still good, do you think?”
I considered the items I’d purchased days ago, with the intention of giving him a home-cooked meal. “The meat might be good, but I have stuff in the freezer too.” I replied. “Are you ready to try my cooking?”
“I just want to stay away from other people for the night. Just me and you, before I walk into the storm, and you get back to your lucrative business playing video games while men make spank-bank deposits as they watch you.”
“That is so gross. I’m totally going to use it. You’ve been warned.” I snuggled in to his side. “Which reminds me, I get a lot of emails from men, including wealthy, important, business-types, asking me to go away with them, sometimes asking for naked pictures…” He flinched, but didn’t respond. “I hope you understand that I finally have the opportunity to respond the way I’ve always wanted to. I’m going to be taking a lot of pictures of your naked ass.”
“Oh God, I did not think that was going to be the next sentence out of your mouth.” Jackson snorted. His eyes were still closed, but his arm opened out to the side and made room for my head on his shoulder. Stiles let out a petulant cry of hunger from the kitchen, followed by a metallic crash that made us both jump. “Stiles is hungry.”
I nodded, rubbing my cheek against his chest. “He’ll survive an extra five minutes on the five pounds of fat stores he’s built up. What about you? Are you hungry?”
He held me tighter, but didn’t answer for a few minutes. Normally, I would’ve loved the time in his arms, but my legs were itchy and tingling with the need to move, and my skin was tight and achy. I leaped up from bed and filled Stiles’ food bowl, then started pacing the kitchen, pulling out ingredients for a late dinner or snack.
I was halfway through cleaning out my fridge, tossing meat products I couldn’t say for sure were still safe to eat, when I looked for Jackson and found only Stiles on the bed, bathing himself happily in the wake of the extra salmon I’d given him to shut him up.
A glance at the clock made me pick up the pace, and I sliced the steaks I’d purchased, and cut vegetables and set them aside while oil heated on the stove. After quick-frying the steak, I added the celery, cabbage, mushrooms, and bamboo shoots. I didn’t even look up from my work until I was plating the stir-fry over noodles and adding teriyaki glaze to the mess. As I moved to pour the glaze, a large, masculine hand invaded my view, covering the plate.
“Oh, shit!” I cursed as I jumped. “Jesus H-Christ, Jackson, you scared the heck out of me.” I set the bottle down on the counter and pressed a hand to my heart, while I glared at his grinning face.
“I really am sorry,” he chuckled, trying to cover his laugh with a cough. “I did a quick check of your computer, email, applications, and even your streaming software, to look for flags that I’d accidentally dragged you into my past indiscretions.” He smiled ruefully at me, and standing there in his boxer briefs, he looked like he was the vulnerable one, for once.
“Find anything?” I handed him the plate devoid of sugary, caramel-colored teriyaki goodness and leaned against the counter while I picked at my own food.
“No, but I knew you’d feel better if you knew that I’d taken the time to look.”
“Well, you just got here, can’t have you going off to federal prison before I get what I want out of you,” I teased, and he groaned in reply.
“Every time I even think the words, ‘federal prison’ or ‘FBI’, my stomach clenches and I feel like I’ve been stabbed in the gut.”
I twisted the top off and slid a beer across the counter to him, taking his empty and tossing it the trash. “Sorry, Hun,” I tried not to smile. “Will this job make you famous?”
He shook his head. “Well, that wouldn’t be good for business, would it? I mean, how do we make a name for ourselves without getting treated like the enemy by the suits? I’ve only ever done this in the dark, never out where the world could see me.” He took a swig of beer and watched me clean up the mess I’d made.
“You stream it.” He coughed on his beer. “I’m serious,” I continued. “You don’t have to show how you’re doing what you do, but you stream while you work. You talk about the pitfalls of different security measures, talk about how to find cheaters in games. You could be working for money, and getting donations from an audience at the same time.”
“You think I could be a successful streamer.”
“I think you have a niche to exploit. Use games to show your viewers the back doors you’re always talking about.” I looked him dead in the eye. “I hear about back doors all the time, explicitly, when my fans tell me what they imagine me doing to them when they shut off their computers.”
“Yeah, if you’re lucky they wait that long.”
“Okay, Jackson, there is a limit to the level of gross I can allow my brain to process.” He laughed and I leaned over the counter, putting my nose inches from his and staring him in the eye. “That was over my limit.”
“So, back to business,” he suggested, clearing his throat, “in a gaming stream, you’re saying I should show guys how to figure out if they’re being phished, backtrack anonymous trolls, basically give the power of hackers to anybody willing to tune in, in layman’s terms.”
“God, I’m a genius.”
“Yeah, yeah, you are, Sugar,” he chuckled. “I’ll be the Julian Assange of the gaming world.” He arched an eyebrow at me and I danced on my toes, doing a mini pirouette behind the counter.
“Hmmm, the WikiLeaks of gaming. That would make a great thesis.”
He stared at me like I’d grown a third eye. “What?” He swung around the counter and grabbed me before I could run, and wrapping his arms around me, dipped me back and kissed me hard on the mouth.
“Where did you come from, and what did I do to deserve you?”