THE KING OF THE GOLD SYSTEM GAMING

A MAN

There’s a man in a black hoodie and black face mask parked on one of the couches by the community pool table. Most people wouldn’t give him a second glance, but I do. Because I recognize him just by his eyes.

My platform heels click softly on the tiles as I make my way to him. I force myself to calm and let my mask settle over me with practiced precision—no hint of anxiety leaking out. It’s only when I stop right in front of him that he looks up from the mobile game on his phone. My skin heats from the intensity of his gaze, his eyes swirling pools of bottomless black framed by thick lashes.

“Why are you here?”

“You headed out?” He meets my bluntness tit for tat.

“Um, yeah. I’m going over to Leyla’s.”

“’Kay, let’s go.” He stands up, his chest coming to rest mere inches from my nose.

I take a startled step back as he steps around me to head out of the complex. My brain glitches for a second as I stare at his retreating form.

“Uh…what?”

I jog to catch up to his long strides. The fresh outside air fills my lungs as I pass through the revolving door and into the late afternoon sun.

“I’ll drive you.”

“Did you come all the way here just to drive me to Crime Night?” I quirk a brow.

Herson hands a ticket to the valet outside my apartment before turning back to give me a bored look.

“I was in the area and Leyla asked.”

I chew on my bottom lip, trying to determine whether he is telling the truth. It annoys me that he can read me like a book, while I struggle to even read his blurb.

An Army green Jeep comes to a stop before us, and Herson opens the passenger door. “Do you want to be late?”

I let out a huff, hauling my ass into the passenger seat. “I could have driven myself,” I mutter as he gets into the driver’s side.

Herson says nothing. He just removes his face mask and hood before putting the car in drive. I pull my phone out of my handbag to fiddle with it, but really, I’m just using it as an excuse while I stare at him out of the corner of my eye.

It’s frustrating how attractive he is. His long black hair isn’t tied in a bun for once, and the ends graze the top of his shoulders. My fingers twitch to rake my nails through it. This isn’t the first time I’ve had the urge, and if the last year had taught me anything, it’s that this urge isn’t going anywhere soon.

My eyes trail down his arms to the strong hands gripping the steering wheel. Last Halloween he’d worn this super tight T-shirt that showed off every muscle on his perfectly sculpted body, and I’d spent more time than I’d ever confess to drooling over him. He is the kind of guy who could toss you over his shoulder without a second thought.

And I have thought about it.

There was a time when I harbored a tiny little crush on him. Butsupertiny and it was ages ago when I first met him. I’d quickly snuffed out that crush once I realized that he sees me as a by-product of his other friendships—an acquaintance at best. He’s never made the effort with me before, this car drive notwithstanding. So, I’ve just accepted that while I find him hotas hell, it’s just a physical thing. His grumpy personality has left more to be desired.

“What?”

“Huh?”

“You’re staring.” There’s a glint in Herson’s eyes as he drawls out the words.

“So?” I can feel a flush creeping up my cheeks, but the amount of blush on my face hides any hint of it.

“Just making an observation,” he muses, turning his attention back to the road. “You seemed preoccupied.”

“I was just thinking about how they say men with big hands tend to have big penises.”

The car jerks as Herson’s head whips to me, his eyes wide. I feel a sliver of satisfaction as his mouth opens and closes—even though I’m mentally kicking myself for saying that. I don’t know why I say the randomest things when I’m around him…and now I’m thinking about his cock when I seriously don’t need to be.

“Although, I’m not really sure there is any scientific evidence backing that statement. Not that I’ve Googled it or anything, but it’s food for thought,” I continue to babble, even though I wish I would just shut-up.

Herson clenches his jaw. “You’re spending too much time around Stephanie.”

“I’m always like this.” I shrug, pretending to clean under my nails.

Herson doesn’t say anything else for the rest of the ride, and I can’t tell whether he is miffed with me or just embarrassed by my comment.

The car rolls to a stop outside Leyla’s opulent apartment complex, and I waste no time unbuckling my seat belt and popping open the door.

“Well, thanks for the ride. I’ll be sure to give you a four-star rating.”

“What time will you be done?”

I halt, one foot on the asphalt, and turn back to him. “What do you mean?”

“Your little Crime Night, when does it finish?”

I frown. “I don’t know. Depends on how much we drink. Why?”

Typically, if we have a particularly tipsy Crime Night, I end up just crashing at Leyla’s instead of waiting to sober up and drive back. Occasionally, Syd will drop me off at home, but then I have to deal with getting my car the next day, and that always ends up being a pain. If it is a pretty sober night, I drive myself home, but there is never any telling how a Crime Night will turn out. That is the beauty of them.

“So I can drive you home.”

“Why? I’ll just have Stevie or Syd take me.”

His eyes give me a quick once over before he turns away from me. “Fine.”

“Okay, bye.”