THE KING OF THE GOLD SYSTEM GAMING

SOUND OFF

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.

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 Lee’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 Lee 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.”