“Oh myGod,” Beth repeats. “You’re famous!”
“I can’t believe you’ve never seen it. There are loads up near the West End.”
“Oh my God,pleasetake a picture of me with it,” she squeaks, shoving her phone in my hands. “Please, please,please.”
I laugh as she scurries over to the poster and poses by it. Even in the cooling night air, my whole body feels warm.
I won’t apologise for my job. I truly believe there’s nothing wrong with it, and I love doing it. But I’m so used to people judging me for what I do. Making assumptions about who I am.
And she doesn’t.
Your family should be happy that you’re happy. I am.
Fireworks flash and bang in the distance, echoing over London, but as I lift the phone and snap a shot of Beth pretending to kiss my abs, all I can hear is my heartbeat pounding in my ears.
Forty-Nine
Jack
I press thesubmit appbutton, then sit back and just stare at my computer. The pixels on the screen glow and blur, smudging together. My chest is tight, and my heart is beating too fast. Caffeine wires through my veins.
I’m finished. The game is done.
I mean, realistically, it’s probably notdone.I’m sure as soon as it launches, I’m going to remember a million little bugs in the code that I missed. And then the reviews are going to start rolling in. We’ll be inundated by one-stars complaining about glitches. The critics will latch on to them. People will realise the first game’s success was a fluke. Fans will be disappointed. We’ll be thrown off the conference. And it will all be my fault.
My hands start to sweat. Hissing in a breath between my teeth, I drag my keyboard closer. It’s too late to change the code now, but maybe, if I can just find the errors, I’ll be able to fix them after release without too many people seeing them.
“Deadline’s up. It’s done,” a voice comes from behind me. I jump, turning to see Beth standing in my doorway. She looks gorgeous, dressed in one of Cyrus’s old shirts, her hair tangled around her head.
“Beth?” I blink at her like she’s a mirage. “What are you doing here? Isn’t it the weekend?”
“You are so cute,” she says, smiling widely.
“Wha—”
I trail off as she practically skips into the room and cups my face. I jerk under her touch, shocked at the sudden contact. “You look like an owl,” she whispers. “A very confused owl.”
“Oh.”
She presses a kiss to my hair, then slides into my lap, winding her arms around my neck. I groan as I feel her softness melt against me. It’s been two weeks since we got the invitation to the AGAME summit, and I’ve only touched her a handful of times since.
“I missed you,” she says, running a hand through my hair.
“I miss you, too,” I mumble.
For some reason, that makes her laugh. “You are a shell of a human being.” She pulls away, leaning over my shoulder to gently push away my keyboard. “Right. That’s it. We’re celebrating. With real food. And wine. And sex, if you’re up to it.” She kisses me gently on the lips.
I suddenly remember how gross I am. “Don’t,” I groan, trying to pull away. “I need a shower.” And probably to brush my teeth. With all of the espressos I’ve been chugging, my breath probably tastes like the butt end of a french press.
She perks up. “Can I help you?”
I blink blearily. “Brush my teeth?”
“What? No, shower.”
“Yes.”
She grins and tugs me upright, pulling me out of my spinny office chair. The next thing I know, I’m in the bright, shiny bathroom, and Beth is standing in front of me, unbuttoning my shirt.