Page 3 of Stalked By the Gamer

"You better fucking not be," Dylan warned. Though there was a laugh in his voice, I could also hear the protective edge to it.

"What, man? I'm coming to see your sister. You heard her offer."

"I swear to god, Blaze..." Dylan trailed off with a laugh.

"I'm just fucking with you, man," I finally managed to choke out amidst my laughing, my body thrumming with adrenaline and desire.

"Seriously, bro, I'm sorry about my sister."

"It's...fine," I assured him.

But it wasn't fine. Not even close. From that moment on, I couldn't shake the image of Nova's lips wrapped around me, her eyes locked on mine as she brought me to the edge of ecstasy—an edge I knew I could never cross without betraying my best friend.

"Blaze?" Dylan's voice breaks through my reverie once more. "Dude, we're getting killed here. Focus."

"Right," I say, my fingers tightening around the controller. "I'm on it."

As I throw myself back into the game, I can't help but feel like I'm losing control of something much larger than our virtual battleground. And as my thoughts drift back to Nova, I realize just how dangerous that loss could be.

* * *

The sun glares through my window, making it impossible to sleep any longer. I groggily lift my head from the pillow and glance at the digital clock on my nightstand. It's barely nine a.m. on a Saturday, but I'm wide awake now—and it's allherfault. Nova not only haunts my every waking thought now, but she also dominates my dreams.

There's no escape from her, but truth be told, I don't evenwantto escape her image.

"Morning," Dylan greets me as I join him on the headset. He's already on the game. "You're up early."

I grunt as I pour myself a cup of coffee. We exchange our usual weekend morning pleasantries, but I can't help feeling like there's something hanging between us, and I know exactly what it is. It's a secret I'm desperately trying to keep.

"Hey, do you remember that night a couple months ago when Nova was drunk at your place?" I ask casually, taking a sip of my coffee.

"Which time?" he snorts. "She's always getting hammered when she comes over. What about it?"

"Did she...ever say anything about what she said?" I pry, trying not to let my voice betray the urgency behind my question.

Dylan's quiet for a moment before he answers. "Not that I recall," he says finally. "Dude, she probably doesn't even remember, and I'm sorry again. I wouldn't take it personally. That was just Nova being silly."

I laugh. "I know, man," I say even as my heart falls. I'm not stupid. I know she wasn't serious, but having it confirmed still feels like a knife through my heart.

We commence playing, but my mind drifts from the game.

Maybe I can pretend it never happened, that she never whispered those sinful words into my ear, igniting a fire inside me that refuses to be extinguished.

But pretending isn't enough. I need to see her, even if it's only through a screen. I pull out my phone, tapping through my carefully curated collection of Nova's social media accounts.

Her most recent post is a selfie, her golden hair cascading around her shoulders as her blue eyes sparkle in the sunlight. She's wearing a bikini, her slender body pressed against a surfboard as the ocean laps at her feet. The caption reads:

Chasing waves and catching rays! ???? #beachbabe.

"Fuck," I whisper, my heart pounding in my chest as I swipe through the other photos. She looks so carefree, so innocent—completely unaware of the dark thoughts that consume me whenever I think of her.

My thumb hovers over the screen, desperate to leave a comment, to let her know that I'm watching her, that she's not alone. But I can't. Not without betraying everything I am, everything I've built with Dylan.

"God damn it, Nova," I mutter under my breath, my grip on the phone tightening until my knuckles turn white. "Why did you have to say those words?"

As I continue to scroll through her pictures, I realize that no matter how hard I try to fight it, I'm already in too deep. I'm trapped in this twisted web of desire and obsession, and there's no way out—at least, not without losing her. And that's something I simply cannot do.

"Blaze!" Dylan calls over the headset. "What are you doing, bro? We've got a game to play! We're getting slaughtered."

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