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I put a hand on his, stopping him. “It’s fine. I can get the full tour afterward.”
There seemed to be a flash of relief across his face. My curiosity was definitely spiked. As we walked down the hall, toward the two large doors that I figured marked his bedroom, I glanced over my shoulder and looked at the locked door.
He opened the doors, my guess about his bedroom being correct. We walked into a huge master bedroom, the space most likely bigger than the living room I shared with my parents. In the center of the room was a California king-sized bed with a dark wooden headboard that looked specifically made for Rocky, with its simultaneous grandness and warmth. The walls were a soft light gray, playing with the navy blues and soft greens that popped from the different art pieces and thick blankets, one laid across the bed, a few others spilling out of a large basket that sat next to the balcony door.
And the balcony. Holy crap, the balcony. It wrapped half of the room, making two of the walls into wraparound windows.
“Like it?” Rocky said as he walked over to the door, unlocking it and opening it, a blast of Miami humidity entering the room.
“No. I hate it. Absolutely hate it.” I shook my head, acting as if I just got a whiff of the worst garbage in the world. “Are you looking to give this place away, by any chance? I hate it soooo much, I think I should, I don’t know, live here? Just to, you know, hate on it whenever I wanted.”
Rocky laughed, stepping out onto the balcony. I followed, my jaw dropping even farther. The view really was beautiful. We could see the Biltmore Hotel only a few streets down, one of the most iconic hotels in all of South Florida, where Al Capone himself had stayed and where Franklin Roosevelt had set up a temporary White House for whenever he vacationed in Miami.
Rocky walked to the railing, where he turned around to face me. With a bad-boy smile, he thumbed at the cork and popped it off, champagne foaming over and falling onto his bare feet.
I was about to make a joke that I shouldn’t let any of it go to waste but quickly stopped myself, keeping my mouth shut and smiling instead as he handed me a glass.
“Cheers,” he said, his eyes sparkling as much as the champagne. The glasses clinked. I took a drink.
“Wow,” I said, clearly impressed. “If gold had a taste, I’m pretty sure this would be it.”
“Funny. That’s exactly what I thought when we kissed.”
“Oh really?”
“Mhmm. I thought, ‘Wow, this must be how gold and diamonds and heaven taste like.’”
I couldn’t hold back the laugh. “You’re crazy.”
He sipped his champagne, his eyes not leaving me. I looked out at the view, feeling an undeniable heat rise inside me. Underneath us I could see the pool where I had my first kiss, memories flooding back in, fanning the flames inside my chest.
“How’s your streaming going?” Rocky asked.
The heat gave way to a dose of embarrassment. He didn’t say it in a negative way, not at all. He actually sounded genuinely interested in his question. But still, I couldn’t help but feel a dose of imposter syndrome smack me across the face in that instant. Here I was, standing on a stunning balcony with a man who clearly had his shit together, while I was struggling to get people to watch me play video games. I dropped my head.
“It’s all right.” I shrugged. “I’ve got a decent viewership, and I have a ton of fun doing it.”
“So why does it sound like someone’s pulling your toenails?”
“Because it just feels like I’ve got a lot against me right now. Like maybe I should just forget about it and focus on something that’ll actually pay for a roof over my head.”
“But streaming is your passion, right?”
I nodded. “Part of it. I love connecting with people, and for me, video games are not only a really great escape, but they’re a really great connection tool. I’ve made so many good friends through video games. My closest friends haven’t even been in the same zip code as me. Ever. We’ve all FaceTimed, but we’ve never physically been around each other. And that’s… I don’t know. It’s corny if I say it, but it’s kind of magical. Especially for a wallflower like me.”
Rocky was looking in my direction, smiling. There was something in his gaze that I couldn’t quite read. He looked around before I caught a glimpse of what I thought could be a tear, but there’d be no way.
“I know what you mean,” he said. “How video games can connect people.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, his golden watch catching the light spilling out from his bedroom. “And what do you think is going against you right now?”
