THE KING OF THE GOLD SYSTEM GAMING

FUCK OFF

“Fuck off.” I try to laser focus my attention onto the screen, my eyes darting between incoming enemies while keeping an eye on Ryder. We keep advancing down our lane to the tower we need to take down. Even with all the action, I can’t stop that little niggle in the back of my brain that has me wanting to check on her status again.

She acts like the princess who doesn’t need a knight to keep her safe, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to stand guard.

My attention continues to wane until I finally bite the bullet.

“How’s Panther doing?”

My question breeds silence for a second before Leyla chimes in. “Oh, are you asking me?”

“Yeah.”

There’s a loud sigh from her. “She texts me a pic every day as proof of life, but…I don’t know.”

“I’ve tried checking in, but she just sends me those little sparkly pink heart emojis,” Aleks adds.

“You checked in?” My skin prickles.

“Yeah, like a decent human. What, haven’t you?”

I grind my molars, focusing on blasting an enemy minion instead of on the fact that I now seem like the insensitive asshole. “I don’t have her number.”

“We’re all friends on Discord, mate,” Maker points out.

“Boys,” Leyla chastises. “It’s fine. She should be coming over for Crime Night. I don’t care if I have to go and drag her here myself. I’m making her leave that apartment and be a functioning member of society.”

“I don’t mean to sound like a dick, but I really need someone to help me take down this tower,” Ryder drops in.

“Coming.”

“That’s what she said,” Maker, as always, cuts in.

There’s a soft round of chuckles, and it seems like everyone’s instantly moved on from the heavy cloud I created. But I’m still stuck in the middle of the storm, my mouse moving to my second monitor to open Panther’s profile.

I hover over the little envelope button, wondering what I should say.

“Shield, I need you here,” Ryder warns.

I panic click out of her profile. “Got you.”

Fuck, I need to get my head on straight. I’m sure she’s fine. It’s Panther, she’s always saying she’s fine.

I’m not fine.

I haven’t slept in days.

Well, technically, I’ve slept in random thirty-minute intervals, but that doesn’t really count. The second my body begins to doze off, there will be some sort of tiny noise that rocks me right back to reality and sends my blood pressure spiking. It also doesn’t help that every time I close my eyes, my overactive imagination conjures scenarios where the SWAT team actually fires off their guns, and I just see myself sprawled on my floor, bright red blood pooling against my pink hair.

I’ve clocked in over forty-two hours ofThe Sims, thirty-six hours ofCherry Farm: Harvest Season, and twenty-nine hours ofMoonstone Valleyin the last five days, and that isn’t even counting the beta testing I’m doing for a new Kickstarter cozy game. It’s not normal, even for me.

On the bright side, I have enough content filmed to last through the next month easily. On the negative side, it made me realize I need to upgrade my CPU because I’ve noticed a few of the mods lagging.

Some people—prejudiced, misogynistic people—think spending four grand on a setup to play simulators is excessive, but those people don’t truly grasp the processing power it takesto run thirty-plus mods. In my baby gamer days, my laptop used to run so hot you could have tried cooking an egg on it.

I sigh, looking in the mirror that hangs on the back of my front door, and press the bags under my eyes, begging them to go away.

Today is the first day I’m leaving my apartment, and I’ve been standing at the door for fifteen minutes, willing myself to exit. My right hand is poised on the doorknob. All I need to do is turn the damn thing. But I just can’t bring my body to function—a cloud of fear is cancelling out all rational thoughts.

My phone buzzes a few times, and I reach down to pull it out of my heart-shaped handbag to see a slew of texts in my group chat, which is aptly named “MURDER SQUAD.”

LEYLA:Where are you guyssss

STEVIE:literally in the elevator

SYD-BAE:coming

ME:that’s what she said

STEVIE:nice

SYD-BAE:sometimes youre as bad as my boyfriend

ME:

LEYLA:Panther?

ME:on my way

I groan, clicking off my phone and dumping it back in my bag. I know there’s no avoiding this. The girls would sooner come over here than let me skip out on Crime Night without a solid reason—and there is no way I’m letting them know just how much this swatting has been affecting me.

Pushing past the fear, I twist the doorknob and take my first step past the threshold of my apartment. My breath freezes in my lungs, and I strain my ears for anything that might sound off.

When no random assassin drops from the ceiling to murder me, I let myself take another step forward, and then another, until I make it all the way down the hallway and into the elevator. My body moves like a robot, but at least it’s functioning.

It’s only when I get down to the lobby that I stall again.