Sidequest for Love, Page 3

  Afric smirked. “I better go answer that.” She turned and left the room, then reappeared a second later, her head peeking around the doorframe. “Did you know you’ve got this little blood vessel in your forehead that pops up when you talk to me? I wonder what that’s about.”

  Then, with a chuckle, she disappeared again, not allowing me a chance to respond. I rubbed at my forehead and wished I’d never fallen for her trick and allowed her into the building in the first place.

  Michaela seriously owed me big time for this.

  Afric

  Once the caterers were gone, I took my time checking out the food for the night’s event. Glancing over my shoulder, I stole a stuffed grape leaf and shoved it in my mouth. Mmm, free food was always so much more delicious. They’d splashed out for the good stuff, too.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” a familiar voice demanded.

  Damn, caught in the act.

  I plastered on a carefree expression and turned to face Neil. “I’m hungry. Are you a slave driver as well as a snoot? Do you expect me to work my fingers to the bone without a single crumb of sustenance?”

  “You haven’t come close to working your fingers to the bone,” Neil replied derisively as he re-covered the plate. He was standing close, and I caught a faint whiff of soap. “What is it you do for work anyway?”

  “I’m a gamer,” I answered proudly, and Neil looked at me like I was talking a foreign language. “You know, like computer games? I do live streaming, mostly, but I also take part in tournaments sometimes.”

  “Ah, well, that explains a lot,” Neil said, and I raised an eyebrow.

  “What explains a lot?”

  “Gaming isn’t exactly a real job now, is it? You sit around playing computer games and get paid for it. Sounds like a holiday to me.”

  “It’s not as easy as it sounds, especially to be as good as I am. And you can quit giving me that look, Sir Snootsalot. I’ve worked plenty of ‘real’ jobs in my time, too.”

  Neil scoffed. “Sure, you have.”

  Something about his tone got my back up. Yes, I enjoyed arguing with him, and I could take a slagging as well as the next person, but this was different. He’d made it a little too personal. People thinking I had an easy life because of my job really bothered me, especially since it had been far from easy to get where I was.

  “Yes, actually, I have. I’ve worked some of the toughest minimum wage jobs out there, from fast-food kitchens to cleaning toilets, so I know all about hard graft. A lot more than some pampered celebrity’s assistant, that’s for sure.” I reached out and grabbed both his hands, turning them palm up.

  “What are you doing?” Neil questioned, bristling at my touch.

  “Just as I expected. Soft as a baby’s bottom,” I declared. “You haven’t done a day of manual labour in your life.”

  Neil yanked his hands from my hold, something hardening behind his eyes. “Do you know what? I think I can handle things from here. You should go.”

  “I’m not going anywhere. You offended me, and clearly, I just offended you, so now we’re even. How about a truce?”

  I held out my hand, and his lips formed that straight line again. I was learning this meant he was aggravated. Then, after a few more seconds of consideration, something in his expression softened, and he emitted a heavy sigh.

  “Fine. Let’s just stay out of each other’s way.” He shook my hand, and I was briefly aware of his warm palm on mine before he let go and started to lay out the food. I quietly helped. For the next two hours, we worked mostly in silence. He only talked to me when he needed to tell me what to do, and before long, the place was all set up for the event.

  It was just an hour before guests would be arriving. I sat down in the middle of the empty theatre and took a selfie, posting it to my social media with the caption, Have the whole place to myself. Isn’t life grand!

  I was just slotting my phone back into my pocket when Neil appeared. He carried two small paper plates on which he’d placed a selection of finger foods. He handed one plate to me and kept the other for himself. Was this his version of an olive branch?

  “See? I’m not a total slave driver,” he said grudgingly, and I couldn’t help the way my lips twitched. I wanted to smile but held it back. He might be a bit too buttoned-up, but Neil was a decent sort. At the very least, he worked hard and took pride in his job. I’d observed that today, despite my comments about his soft hands.

  He surprised me when he took the seat next to mine, and we ate in companionable silence. After a few minutes, his phone buzzed, and he put his plate down to pull it out.

  Being the nosy person that I was, I read it over his shoulder. It was that Annabelle lady again. It looked like they were chatting through a messenger app.

  Annabelle: I wish I could be at the screening tonight. I’d love to finally meet!

  I pretended to focus on eating a small cracker with hummus while I watched Neil type a quick reply out the corner of my eye.

  Callum: I wish you could be here, too. We’ll meet one day. I’m sure of it.

  Wait a second … Callum?! What the hell? Callum Davidson was one of the stars of Running on Air. He was also Neil’s boss. Why was Neil messaging some girl and pretending to be him? I didn’t breathe a word, but when Neil went to put his phone back in his pocket and his eyes met mine, the colour drained from his face.

  He knew I’d seen.

  I slowly raised an eyebrow as my mouth curved into a smile. I’d been right about him. Strait-laced Neil had a whole lot more going on under his professional exterior.

  “I can explain,” he said.

  I couldn’t hide the mirth in my voice. “Please do.”

  I watched as he sat forward and dropped his head into his hands, swearing profusely under his breath. Oh, shit. This was serious. My smile dropped. Neil was stressed out, and I suddenly felt bad for him. What had he gotten himself into?

  I reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. I won’t tell anyone. Your secret’s safe with me.” A short silence fell before I asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

  He sat back and cast me a troubled look as he shook his head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

  I kicked my feet up on the chair in front of me. “Try me.”

  Another silence fell. He blew out a breath. “Jesus Christ. I can’t believe I’m considering telling you of all people. I must really be going mad.”

  I tried not to be offended by the you of all people or the going mad bit of what he just said. I knew I wasn’t exactly his favourite person. Plus, we barely knew each other. But sometimes, it was easier to tell secrets to strangers than to those close to you.

  “I used to have a really big crush on Leanne,” Neil blurted.

  My eyebrows jumped at his confession. What did Callum’s girlfriend have to do with this? The little tomboy was the last person I expected Neil to fancy. I imagined him going for delicately feminine blondes who wore dresses and cardigans and shit. There was nothing delicately feminine about Leanne, but she was still all woman. Being a fan of the show, I looked up to her a lot, actually. I was kind of impressed that Neil had crushed on her. He really was full of surprises.

  “I never stood a chance with her, obviously,” he said, gesturing to himself. “I mean, look at me and look at Callum.”

  “Hey, don’t be so down on yourself. You’re a good-looking chap,” I said, feeling like he needed the compliment right then. Sure, Callum Davidson was sex on a stick, but Neil wasn’t unattractive. He was hot in a nerd boy sort of way. If Callum was Superman, then Neil was Clark Kent, and I’d always had a soft spot for men who wore glasses.

  His cheeks coloured a little at my compliment. “Thanks,” he said shyly. “But I know what I look like. I’m not the sort of man women notice.”

  I wasn’t sure I entirely agreed with that statement, particularly since I had noticed Neil had a nice, pert little backside on him. What? It wasn’t a crime to glance
at a bottom from time to time, especially one as visually pleasing as Neil’s. Still, I didn’t argue with him. Instead, I got straight to the point. “So, you decided to pretend to be Callum online? How did that happen?”

  He rubbed his jaw. “It’s complicated. When I realised Leanne was never going to choose me over Callum, I was in a really bad place. I was depressed. It was around the same time that Callum started having me run his social media accounts. He had thousands of unread messages from fans, and he wanted me to pretend to be him, just composing a few polite responses, saying thanks for the support and all that. A few months into it, I came across a message from Annabelle,” he sighed, his head falling back against the seat as he stared up at the high ceiling. He had a handsome profile, I noticed.

  “And?” I prodded, nudging his elbow. I was hooked on his story and wanted to know more.

  “She was a fan of the show and had sent a long message about how she was into parkour and hoped to be as good as Callum one day. She talked about how she looked up to him and would love any advice he could give about improving her free running. I sent her the usual response, thinking I’d leave it at that, but she kept responding, and before I knew it, I was pulled into a full-blown conversation where I was pretending to be Callum. I hadn’t meant for it to happen, but now I really like her, and I hate the fact that I’ve been lying about who I am all this time. I haven’t had the courage to come clean.”

  I gave his arm a soft squeeze. “Shit, Neil, that’s tough.” I’d heard my fair share of catfishing stories over the years, but none like this. Neil hadn’t intended to fool this girl. He’d simply been doing his job, and his willpower slipped. It must’ve been especially hard replying to all those messages and pretending to be the guy Leanne chose instead of him.

  “I’m going to have to ghost her,” he said. “I can’t keep pretending.”

  I studied him a moment. He looked so forlorn, and I happened to be a sucker for lost causes.

  “Not necessarily.”

  He glanced at me. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you clearly have it bad for this girl. And going by what you’ve said, you two have really hit it off in your conversations. You might’ve been pretending to be Callum at the start, but you’ve still been you behind the mask, and if she’s still chatting with you, then that means she likes your personality. You could come clean. If she’s genuinely into the person she’s been talking to and isn’t just some fame chaser who wants to date a celebrity, then maybe she’ll understand and give you a fair chance.”

  Neil stared at me, not looking convinced. “I’m pretty sure if she knew the truth, she wouldn’t want anything to do with me.”

  “If she doesn’t, then that’s her loss.”

  “Why are you being so nice? You weren’t this nice when we first met.” He folded his arms, eyes narrowing slightly.

  “Believe it or not, I actually am a nice person. But I tend to get a little argumentative when I get going on a topic, and that isn’t always a good thing when I’m meeting new people. I guess you have the first-hand experience of that.”

  Some of his defensiveness faded as he unfolded his arms. “Well, be that as it may. I still think ghosting Annabelle is the best thing to do. It’s too risky to come clean.”

  “I disagree. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

  “Okay, then, if you think it’s such a good idea, how do I go about telling her the truth?”

  I stood from my seat, folding up my now empty paper plate to throw in the bin. “Let me ruminate on it for a few days and get back to you with a plan.”

  Both his eyebrows rose right up into his forehead. “A plan?”

  I nodded. “Yes, a plan.”

  “Why would you help me? What’s in it for you?”

  I shrugged. “I think you’re interesting. I’m also invested in this real-life episode of Catfish now, and I won’t be able to rest until there’s a happy ending.”

  With a parting grin and a wink, I turned and left him sitting in the empty theatre, my mind awash with ideas. I’d never tried my hand at playing Cupid before, and I was oddly excited to get shooting my bow and arrow. Besides, being a gamer, I could never resist a challenge, and helping Neil win over the girl he’s been lying to would be the perfect real-life sidequest.

  3.

  Neil

  When Afric mentioned she livestreamed while gaming, I couldn’t help taking a look. A simple online search brought up her channel, and my heart jolted when I saw she was live right this very moment. I hit play and braced myself. I needed to know what sort of person I was getting involved with.

  Less than a second later, she was on my screen, her hair up in a messy ponytail and large hoop earrings dangling from her ears. She was playing a game called Greenforest, where her avatar was a squat, impish-looking creature with batlike wings, a bulbous nose, and bushy eyebrows. In the far corner of the screen sat Afric, controller in hand as she simultaneously gamed and sang, making up her own lyrics to Garth Brooks’ “Friends in Low Places.” She wasn’t too bad of a singer, and I had to admit her lyrics were funny.

  Behind her, you could see what appeared to be a bedroom, which was lit by a multitude of neon lamps. It looked like the inside of a futuristic arcade. I glanced around my own bedroom, which was decorated in a navy, black, and magnolia colour scheme. It seemed bland by comparison.

  This wasn’t the kind of thing I normally watched, but there was something oddly compelling about her.

  “Ah, what a tune,” Afric said with a chuckle when she finished singing. “My mam went to see old Brooksie in ’97 and she still has a picture of her and all the aul ones from our street in their Garth T-shirts on their way to the concert. She says it was the best day of her life. Kind of offensive if you ask me since she’s given birth to eight children. Anyway, enough about my mother. That’s me signing off for the night. See you all tomorrow, same time, same place.”

  She made a peace symbol with her fingers then gave a little salute before the screen went blank. I shut the lid of my laptop and worried I’d made a terrible mistake. I’d confessed my biggest secret to someone who broadcasted to possibly thousands of subscribers every day live on the internet. What if she had a whim and told her viewers what I’d done? Everybody watched Running on Air, and my catfishing story would make for a salacious bit of content.

  I lay back in bed, tossing and turning for half the night. I needed to talk to Afric again, make certain that she’d keep my secret, but I didn’t even have her number. I could ask Michaela for it, but that would lead to questions. She might even decide to quiz her friend, and I had no clue how good Afric was at keeping secrets. She could be a blabbermouth for all I knew. Going by what I did know of her, she likely was a blabbermouth.

  What was I thinking?

  In the end, I didn’t need to get Afric’s number from Michaela because she found me first. I was working at a café near the gym where the cast trained daily, laptop open, when someone slid into the seat opposite me. Glancing up, I found Afric with her elbows resting on the table, hands steepled under her chin as she studied me. Her hair was different from the last time I saw her. She’d somehow gotten rid of the blue and dyed the ends to match the natural blonde of her roots.

  “You changed your hair,” I commented. She’d actually look normal if she weren’t wearing an overly large Minnie Mouse jumper and enough jewellery to drown a person. Every finger sported several rings, and around her neck were a number of silver chains.

  “What?” she questioned, then her hand went to her head. “Oh, right. Yeah, I did. Made a video of the process and everything. I was mostly just trying to get Brad Mondo to notice me.”

  I scrunched my brow. “Brad Mondo?”

  “Never mind about him. I came here because I have some questions for you.”

  “How did you find me?”

  She twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “Michaela mentioned you come here most mornings for breakfast. Speaking of which, I’m starv
ing. I’m going to order something to eat. Be back in a sec.”

  With that, she left and went up to the counter. I watched as she relayed an order then returned to sit across from me. “You know,” she began, eyeing my set-up. “Maybe it’s a poor person thing, but I’ve always been fascinated by people who are comfortable enough to sit in a café and work on their laptops without a care in the world. Aren’t you afraid of getting robbed?”

  I glanced at my MacBook then back to her. “Not really. I have everything backed up to the cloud.”

  She waggled her eyebrows. “Do you now?”

  “Yes, and I’m not sure why you’re acting like I just made a double entendre because I definitely did not,” I replied in a flat tone.

  Afric shrugged. “I’ve just always found the term ‘backed up’ to be very provocative. It evokes images of well-endowed ladies shaking their arses on night club dance floors.”

  “Personally, it makes me think of toilets in need of plumbing,” I countered and she barked a laugh, her blue eyes sparkling.

  “Ha! Oh my God, you’re right. I stand corrected. Anyway, what was I talking about before? Oh yes, you with your MacBook out begging to be robbed. I just find it so extravagantly confident. It’s like you’re daring the gods to defy you.”

  “I assure you, I’m far from extravagantly confident. My lack of confidence and self-esteem is half the reason you’re here.”

  She clapped her hands together. “Right, yes, we should start discussing that. So, you really like this Annabelle girl, huh?”

  I nodded, my shoulders tensing as I glanced about. Like I said, this café wasn’t far from the gym, and one of my bosses could decide to pop in at any moment.

  “How much do you think she likes you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, do you think she has real feelings for you? Feelings that are strong enough to counteract the deception of finding out who you really are?”

  I frowned at her question. I really liked Annabelle. In fact, our chats were the highlight of most of my days (pathetic, I know), but was I the highlight of her day? Hard to say. She thought I was Callum Davidson, a man who was more or less my polar opposite, so even if she did like me, she liked the me that looked like Callum.