Sebastian huffs out a laugh. “Hmm, I don’t know. Kind. Likes kids. Likes animals. Likes me.”
Check, check, check, check.
“Oh, and I think LA girls are gorgeous.”
Checkmate.
I scoff, but it sounds as fake as I intended it. “You’re such a suck up.”
“Just being honest,” he says warmly. “And you, little bee? What kind of man could sweep you off your feet?”
“That’s a hard question,” I muse. “I don’t really have a set type, it just… happens.” Probably a traumatic response to something, judging by my shitty taste in men. “Smart and decisive, that’s for sure. Great sense of humor. Takes care of his body.” Like Ethan. It’s obvious he hits the gym on a regular basis. “I like a guy who doesn’t care what people think and isn’t afraid to laugh when things are funny.” Ethan has smile lines fanning from the corners of his eyes.
What. The. Fuck. Barbara.
Did that beefed-up pest put a hex on me or something? Why am I seeing him as I describe my perfect man to a guy who’s probably infinitely more perfect than Ethan could ever dream of being?
Sebastian’s voice shakes me back to the present. “Sounds like it’s a good thing we met then, little bee.” A tiny shiver runs through me at his tone. It shouldn’t sound like a promise, but it does.
I laugh a little too quickly, trying to shake the weird flutter in my chest. “You don’t even know what I look like, Seb.”
“True,” he says. “But I know your voice. I know your laugh. I can tell you’ve got a good heart.”
My throat goes tight. “You’re smooth.”
“I’m honest.”
God, if he’s half as good-looking as he sounds, I’m in trouble.
The conversation drifts while our avatars trek through another quest—easy, domestic little questions like how he takes his coffee. I realize I’m smiling the entire time.
When we finish the co-op, the glowing “Quest Complete” screen pops up. I could say a quick goodnight here, log off, maybe sneak a few more reels before bed. But I don’t seem to want to. I hover over the “Disconnect Voice Chat” button, unwilling to hit it.
He must sense it, because his voice drops, softer now. “Hey, Bee?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you want to keep in touch outside the game? Sometimes I work late and can’t log on, but I’d still like to talk to you.”
My heart stutters. The rational part of me screams,Bad idea, Barbara—you don’t give your number to strangers online. But the rest of me, that lonely, giddy part, melts under the warmth in his tone.
I bite my lip, then say, “You could just add me on Discord.”
“Can’t,” he says, a smile in his voice. “Company firewall blocks it. But I can text. If you’re comfortable, that is.”
He sounds genuine. Kind. Not like one of those guys who’d spam me with unwanted dick pics. I hesitate for another second before blurting out, “Okay. But no creepy messages at 3 AM.”
“Scout’s honor,” he teases. “Though technically I was Army, not a scout.”
There’s a weird déjà vu tug, like I’ve heard that tone somewhere before. I shake it off and give him my number. A second later, my phone buzzes on the desk.
Unknown Number:
Hey, little bee
Now you’ve got my number too. Fair’s fair.
I smile down at the screen before typing back:
