“Which him?”
“Himhim. MountMeEverest. He messaged me one night when I was stress-eating a burrito and crying over my nursing notes disappearing. He’s been lurking for a bit but, like, in a respectful way.”
“Mmhmm.”
“No, seriously. He’s not creepy. He doesn’t send dick pics. He tips, he watches, and then just… logs off. Except that one night he asked if I was okay. And now he’s the winner.”
Lorna raises an eyebrow, finally looking up. “You better not be catching feelings for a man whose entire online identity is a hiking pun.”
I throw a pillow at her. “It’s fate.”
“It’s marketing.”
I sigh, grinning anyway. “Both can be true.”
She snaps her tablet shut and stands, brushing invisible lint off her all-black power suit. “Do not message him until we clear him. I mean it. I’ll lock your account down if I have to.”
“I know, I know. God. You act like I’ve broken a rule before.”
Lorna just points two fingers at her eyes, then at mine. “Don’t be stupid.”
And then she’s gone, off to bully an intern or wrangle a cock cage sponsorship. Queen shit.
I hang back, waiting until I hear the click of the outer door before pulling my phone from my bag. My fingers hover over the screen. I shouldn’t message him.
So I don’t.
I go to my performer portal instead. Copy his subscriber name from the draw confirmation. Open my messages.
And stare at the screen like a dumbass for a solid thirty seconds.
God, I probably look like one of those girls who does heart doodles in the margins of her notebook. I’m not even this soft with the guys I fuck in real life. But there’s just something about him.
I start typing.
Me: Hey, Everest. Looks like the universe has a sense of humor. Or maybe good taste. Either way, congrats on winning the Sweetest Ride.
I pause. Add a line. Delete it. Add a winky face. Delete it again. Ugh.
Me (for real this time): Hey, Everest—congrats, sugar. You’re the winner. Legal will be in touch soon to walk you through the next steps, but I just wanted to say… I’m looking forward to meeting you. Don’t go ghost on me now
I stare at it. Then hit send before I can overthink it into oblivion.
My phone screen glows with the message sent, and I lean back, heart thudding like I just got off a roller coaster. It’s done. It’s happening.
MountMeEverest is mine.
At least for one day.
And if the universe wants to throw in a little extra magic?
Well, I’m not the type to say no to a happy ending.
Chapter Ten
EVEREST
I’m sittingat my desk in my dorm room, hastily typing away while checking my research material making sure I’ve cited all my sources and all my information is correct.
