Chapter Eight
Harry
When Alice sank back in her chair, I didn’t even stop to think before taking her hand and letting them all know how important she is. She’s probably bored out of her mind, and the last thing I want is for her to regret coming out with me tonight.
And why will grabbing her hand make her feel any better?
Since I don’t have an answer for this, it’s a relief when she doesn’t pull free. Until I remember this is a fake date, and all she’s doing is playing her part to perfection.
“Well,” she says, never taking her gorgeous gaze from me, “that’s a slight exaggeration, but I’ll take it.”
I tighten my hold on her hand, and instead of stamping her heel through my foot, she slides her fingers between mine. Either she’s going above and beyond tonight, or she isn’t faking it.
Before I can figure that one out, the first course arrives. I’m sure there’s a suave move I should make, but I don’t have a clue, so just give her a grin and reluctantly tug my fingers free.
“This looks good.” She flaps the napkin over her lap.
“Looks great.” Not that I can tear my gaze from her to check what’s on my plate. Is she blushing?
Is that a good sign?
She leans into my space, and I lower my head. Her perfume is subtle and sexy and thank God she doesn’t wear it at work. I’d have a permanent hard-on.
Her warm breath drifts across my jaw. We’ve known each other for eight months, and she’s never been this physically close to me before. Her hair tickles my nose, and I have the overwhelming urge to plunge my hands through those blonde curls and hold her still while I—
“Just so you know,” she whispers, fragmenting my fantasy before I can act on it, “you’re doing fantastically.”
I’d almost forgotten the real reason we’re here tonight, and it’s nothing to do with spending time with Alice.
The hell it isn’t.
“So are you,” I whisper back, and she turns her head without pulling away. If she was anyone else but Alice, I’d take it as an invitation to kiss her.
Don’t fuck this up. “Forget about that posing shit with the photographers.” I nod toward the stage, where a narrow piece of carpet leads to the podium. “Before we leave here tonight, I’m walking you up to that red carpet.”
When the final dishes have been cleared away, I lean back in my chair, feeling mellow after the couple of glasses of wine I’ve had on top of the champagne, even though my drink of choice is beer. The guys at our table are cool, and I’d forgotten what it’s like meeting true fans of Exitium face-to-face, rather than in the online forums. Although it’s kind of bizarre the way they seem to think of me the way I do Oscar Jarrod.
And Alice has been amazing. I steal another sideways glance. Although she’s not into the gaming, she knows everything about the mythology of the world and corrected a couple of common misconceptions one of the guys brought up.
She catches my eye and smiles. It’s the same smile she’s given me for months and yet somehow it’s not.
“Having fun?” She loops a curl behind her ear, which shouldn’t be so fascinating but I’ve never seen her do that before.
“Yes. What about you?”
“It’s been…” She pauses, and an irresistible smile hovers around her mouth. “Interesting.”
“Interesting? That’s loaded.”
“Only in a good way. Oh.” She sits up straighter. “They’re about to start the ceremony. Are you sure you’ve got your speech safe?”
“Positive.” I pat my pocket and sling her a disbelieving grin. “But I won’t need it.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
It’s a real ego stroke the way she’s so positive I’m in with a chance of winning, which is weird since I’ve never had any desire to be admired for my bone structure before. One of my dreams is for TPoE to win game of the year in a prestigious, international game award. Now that’d be worth celebrating, but I’m sure as hell not complaining about tonight when it means Alice is by my side.
As the emcee starts the show, my mind drifts as it always does when anything doesn’t hold my attention. The only difference is tonight, instead of chewing over various complexities in the current scene I’m working on, I can’t stop thinking about Alice.
“And the nominees for Best Fan Art are…”
I’ll see if she wants to hang out after work one day next week. It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve done that, except this time I don’t plan on having anyone else with us.
The show drags on and I dutifully clap every time someone wins an award. What time does this thing end? I tug on my tie and undo the top couple of buttons on my shirt, which helps ease the rising claustrophobia, and swallow a sigh. At least Alice hasn’t fallen asleep with the tedium. She looks as though she’s enjoying herself, so that’s a positive.
“And now, something we’ve all been waiting for, the nominees for the Sexiest Geek of the Year Award.”
Finally. It’s the last “award,” which means the night is wrapping up. Is it too late to take her somewhere else after this? I glance at my watch before remembering the limo. And the fact I’m in a tux. Neither is a good look when all you want to do is hang out at the local pub.
Come on, get on with it.
I stifle my impatience at the dramatic pauses the emcee seems to feel is essential in order to whip up excitement with the audience. They appear pretty damn excited already.
“And the winner is…” Another fucking pause. I keep my game face on in case anyone’s taking photos, as both Alice and Caleb warned me a resting bitch face—especially when they name the winner of this award—would be bad PR, but it’s getting harder by the second.
Just name the poor bastard, already.
“The founder of Blitz, and creator of the phenomenally successful RPG, The Plains of Exitium, Harry Carter!”
…
Alice
I squeal and leap to my feet, clapping madly along with the rest of our table and most of the room. Harry sits there, looking gobsmacked, and I hurriedly perch on the edge of my chair and lean into his personal space.
“You won.” I give him a little nudge with my shoulder, and he stares at me as horror crawls over his face. I giggle, can’t help it, because who else besides Harry would react like this?
“Harry Carter, where are you?” the emcee says in a jovial boom, and a spotlight beams down onto Harry’s head. “Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for Harry of Exitium!”
Even I wince at that, but now is no time to get nit-picky. Not when Harry appears paralyzed. It looks like my services are needed tonight, after all.
I take his hand and give him a reassuring squeeze, and his eyes lose their glazed expression as he exhales a deep breath. Anyone would think he’s about to go to his execution.
Without releasing my hand, he stands, and terror skates through me. There’s no way I’m going up on the stage with him in front of all these people. For a second, we stare at each other while the spotlight burns into me with unforgiving scrutiny, and then he gives me a slow smile and my fingers slip from his.
I let out a relieved breath and watch him stroll up to the stage as though he’s done it a million times. Even the other nominees for the award seem stoked by his win.
The applause gradually dies down, and I plop down onto my chair. Butterflies race around my chest as Harry takes his place beside the emcee, and I grip my fingers together to stop them shaking. An insanely beautiful woman presents the award and kisses his cheek. When he pulls his glasses from his pocket and puts them on, a collective female-centric appreciative sigh echoes around the room, and dozens of phones are aimed his way, obviously taking a thousand pics.
He places the award on the podium and retrieves his speech but barely refers to it as he launches into his acceptance and utterly wows the audience. I bathe in the waves of adoration flowing his way, and even though I have the stupidest grin on my face, there’s nothing I can do about it.
Just in time, I remember to take a few pics for posterity before he steps down from the stage amid thunderous applause.
As he reaches our table, I shove my phone back in my bag, and he sits down and places the award on the table between us. As everyone else leans over and admires it, nervous giggles bubble in my chest.
It looks like a glass dick mounted on a Perspex block.
“What, um, what’s it supposed to be?” Because I’m sure they didn’t really award him a glass dick.
His lips twitch, but he manages to keep a straight face. “It’s a joystick.”
Of course it is. Despite my best intentions, a snigger escapes, and Harry grins. “Guaranteed to put a smile on your face, right?” That came out sounding dirtier than I intended.
No, it didn’t.
“Guaranteed to stay in the back of a dark cupboard.”
“Don’t be like that.” I risk prodding it with my finger. “You should put it on your desk and flaunt it with pride.”
“Harreee.” A gaggle of girls approach, their phones armed and ready, and he’s subjected to endless selfies. I bite my lip as they grab his award and drape themselves over him. Should I step in and stop them? I know he asked me to come tonight so nobody would think he was available, but they only want pics with him. It’s not like they’re trying to drag him into a dark corner or anything. The last thing I want to do is behave like a jealous girlfriend.
Or is that what he wants me to do?
“Um, Harry?” I tap his shoulder. “Should we be going?” People have started to drift out of the room, so it’s a valid question. Well, it’s the only one I could think of.
He turns to me with relief etched on his face, and guilt stabs through me. I should’ve said something earlier. Not that the girls take any notice when he tries to move, they just crush him a little more and take more selfies.
I take a deep breath and stand so I feel more authoritative. “Sorry, ladies, I need my boyfriend back.”
They sigh and groan and slowly peel themselves off him, thankfully not glancing my way as my face is burning. Not that I really lied, as Harry is my boyfriend tonight, for all intents and purposes.
As soon as they release him and reverently place the joystick back on the table, he joins me and slides his fingers through mine. I try not to get too excited, as he’s only doing it for show, but if that’s the only reason then why’s he stroking me with his thumb? No one can see him doing that.
The girls gush a little more about how awesome it was meeting him and how much they love TPoE, but eventually they wander off, clutching each other and obviously checking out their photos.
“Thanks for rescuing me.” He grins and it’s a struggle keeping upright. “What took you so long?”
“Oh, you know. They looked like they were having so much fun. In any case, think of the great publicity when they Snapchat their pics.”
He shudders. “Thanks for that. Not.”
It’s late, and things are winding down, but I don’t want to be the one who suggests leaving, because then the night will be drawing to an end. And I want this night to last forever.
Ye gods, Alice. Romantic slush, but I can’t help it when it comes to Harry.
We stand in silence and then he tugs my hand and leads me from the table until we’re standing just in front of the stage.
“Never let it be said I break my promises.” He looks down and I follow his glance to the red carpet.
“Cool.” I lift my dress just enough so I can see my toes and pretty glittery sandals. Fairy-tale walk of fame, here I come. “This is a night to remember, that’s for sure.”
“It’s not over yet.”
My mind immediately flies into hot and sexy territory where Harry sweeps me off my feet and carries me into a conveniently located hotel bedroom. Thank goodness I remembered to bring the condoms.
Harry, naturally, does no such thing, and instead we stroll along the carpet, our arms touching and body heat mingling. The silver and black helium balloons bob overhead and, despite the lingering guests and waiters who are clearing the tables, it’s like we’re alone in our own little world.
My imagination sure is working overtime.
We stop just in front of the steps that lead to the podium and face each other. “Did you have a good time tonight?” There’s a strange note in his voice, as though it means a lot to him that I did.
“Yes. I really did.” It was nothing like a ball, no dancing, no glass slipper, but this is my Cinderella moment with my secret prince, and I’ll remember it forever. “Thanks for asking me to come with you.”
He brushes a curl from my cheek with his finger and I forget how to breathe. His glasses are in their default position on top of his head, ruffling up his hair, and his bow tie has come undone. He looks rakish and smoking hot and so out of my league it’s laughable, but right now he’s focused on me as though I’m the only girl in his universe.
He lowers his head, his gaze dark and intense, as though he’s about to kiss me.
Oh my freaking God. He’s about to kiss me.
Our lips meet and my eyes flutter shut. His kiss is everything I dreamed and then some. He doesn’t push his tongue inside my mouth or grope me like a horny octopus. It’s just his lips meeting mine in a whisper of a touch that’s so magical my whole body thrums with awareness.
Eternity spins through the cosmos, stars explode, and galaxies reform. Slowly he breaks the kiss, pulling me back to reality, earthbound and breathless.
“Let’s go.” His voice is low and husky and sends ripples along my spine. I don’t even ask him where we’re going, because it doesn’t matter.
I’d follow him anywhere.