The other half are screenshots of me, moments from past matches, fan edits of my kill cams. Someone clips the kill cam from her match with Dylan and overlays my tweet on top of it.
Another edit surfaces of Haven smiling mid-match, slow zoom on her face with the text:“Imagine having nooneghostready to kill for you.”
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t save it. I’m still halfway through replying to some dumbass with a keyboard warrior complex when the door creaks open behind me.
“…Tate ?” Her voice is quiet.
My hands still on the keyboard. I stare at the cursor blinking on the screen. All the rage I’ve been riding hits the wall and halts. She crosses the room slowly.
“You’re supposed to be resting,” I mutter, not looking at her.
“Carter told me you were in here growling at the internet.”
“I wasn’t—.”Fuck me.She’s got that look on her face, half bemused, half wide-eyed, hair still messy from earlier.
“You went viral again,” she adds, stepping closer.
I drag a hand down my face. “Stupid fucks Haven.”
She slips beside me, her hand finding my shoulder gently. “You didn’t have to do all that.”
I turn to face her, eyes catching hers, my jaw tight still. “Yes. I did.”
She swallows and steps closer right into the tension still bristling off me and rests her forehead against mine. “I’m okay.”
“I know, but if anyoneevermakes you feel small again, I’ll make them choke on their own mouse.”
Haven laughs, a real one then kisses me. Not the soft kind, not the kind Carter gives her when he’s trying to soothe her. It’smine.When she pulls back, I’m still trembling. Not from rage, fuck no, from trying not to fall harder.
She kisses me again, this time with teeth. I groan into her mouth, my hands gripping her waist, dragging her closer like I’m proving a point I already made a thousand times tonight. She makes this little sound and it fucking fuels me.
I spin her, back hitting the edge of the desk as I press in closer, my thigh slipping between hers, mouth on hers, my hands greedy and shaking.
“You shouldn’t be walking around like that,” I groan. “Wearing Carter’s hoodie, looking at me like you want to be ruined all over again.”
“I do,” she whispers. “By both of you.”
That makes me stop, not that I don’t want it but because wanting it this much might actually be a medical condition. I step back just enough to breathe. “Let me guess,” I say, dragging my thumb over her lower lip. “You want us both in bed. Right now, again.”
She smirks. “It’s not like there’srules.”
“There should be.”
“Too late.”
Before I can say another word Carter pokes his head into the room like the goddamn golden retriever he is.
“Is this where the party’s at?” he asks, holding two pillows and looking disgustingly pleased with himself.
I blink. “You brought pillows..?”
He tosses one straight at my face just as Haven’s cackle breaks the tension completely.
Before I can recover, she grabs the other pillow and whacks me in the shoulder, fast as hell.
“You’re teaming with him?” I grin, aiming one at Carter.
“He’s part of the package,” she giggles, ducking and shrieking as I chase her toward the bedroom.
