Chapter Twelve

Larkin Calls Rafe a D-bag

Rafe

By the end of Sunday night's show, I was dead on my feet.

It felt like I'd had a headache for three days straight from staring at my screen without breaks. My back ached, making me feel like an old man, and my eyes were dry and burning even though I'd put on my glasses.

As the loud closing music blared out of my speakers to mark the end of this week's final show, I sat back with a sigh, took off my glasses and rubbed my sore eyes. But a tired smile stretched my mouth, because it had all gone off without a hitch. I was damn good at my job.

My desk chair creaked as I spun it to stretch out my legs. This part of the building had been quiet all night, because Holt and Taylor usually watched the shows in Holt's private box, and Seb and Larkin often joined them.

I hated crowds and a lot of noise and people in general, but as I sat there alone in the quiet, I had a brief moment of wondering what was going on in the wrestlers' backstage area now that the big launch weekend was over. Was everyone happy with how it had gone? Were they celebrating?

It had been a long few days. I'd ended up coming into work earlier than usual each day to spend hours making tweaks and adjustments so that the live streams were even better than the night before. Fiddling with volumes, tightening up the timings of onscreen graphics so they appeared at just the right moment, making notes for Paxton so he could get better shots as the wrestlers performed.

My jaw cracked with a huge yawn. I scrubbed my hands down my face, then sighed and heaved my tired body up out of my chair.

It all felt kind of anticlimactic now that it was over. Once again, I found myself wondering what all the wrestlers were doing as I leaned over to turn off my PC, then grabbed my jacket to slip it on.

A sudden knock on the door had me jumping out of my skin, but before I could move, Larkin was bursting inside.

"Yo, yo," he chirped. How this guy was always so full of energy, I had no idea. "Holt wants everyone backstage."

I hesitated with my jacket in my hands. "What, even me?"

Larkin gave me an odd look. "Uh, yeah, broseph. That's why I'm here."

I sighed and grabbed my bag, hoping this wouldn't take too long. I was tired, and I knew that right now, too many voices and too much noise would set me on edge.

Larkin waited in the hall as I turned off my office light and shut the door behind me. Hands in his pockets, he gave me a cheerful smile and started sauntering down the corridor.

"Awesome job, man." He nudged me with his elbow, not seeming to notice when I flinched. Even though I'd been here a while now, we barely knew each other. I barely knew anyone here.

It was weird to think that of all the people at Goliaths, it was probably Ewen I knew the best.

I'd even seen his dick. And what it looked like inside his own mouth.

That was pretty intimate and unique information to know about a person.

"It all seemed to go off without a hitch," Larkin continued. "Looked really good. Seb and I watched on my phone."

My chest warmed with pleasure, but I refused to show it. "Good."

"Holt is, like, happy happy, dude," Larkin told me. "As in, the morning after he hooked up with Taylor for the first time levels of happy. He's smiling so big you can see all his teeth. It's creepy."

"Uh-huh." I wasn't surprised. I'd been emailing Holt our online audience numbers every morning after pulling all the data, so he already knew they'd practically doubled each night, with a huge spike on Saturday when Corey performed.

I was pretty sure we'd already made more than my salary in a single weekend. I guessed there was a dearth of supernatural professional wrestling shows in the rest of the world, and our community was apparently hungry for it. At least that meant I wasn't likely to be in any danger of losing my job in the near future.

"I think he went a bit overboard absorbing the audience's emotions." Larkin was still chattering away as we walked down the empty hallway to the backstage area. "Riding that high of excitement, you know? He's a little wired. He'll probably crash soon and be a total butthead tomorrow. I'll have to feed him lots of sugar."

I huffed in amusement. Apparently our boss was no better than a hyperactive toddler.

Larkin glanced over at me, looking surprised by my mild show of emotion. Then he shot me a blindingly bright grin, and heat crept up my neck when I realised just how ridiculously beautiful he was.

Fuck's sake, was this going to happen all the time now? I was finally noticing guys in that way, and now I was surrounded by stupidly hot guys all the time at work. Great.

"I wasn't all that sure about you when you started, bro," Larkin told me cheerfully. "You kinda seemed like a d-bag. But I think you're just quiet, right? That's what Seb says. He's quiet too, but he's, like, the literal best person alive."

I blinked in surprise. Had he just called me a d-bag?

"Uh, yeah, I'm just…" I shrugged stiffly. "I don't know. Just not all that sociable, I guess." After a pause, I awkwardly added, "It's not personal or anything."

"It's cool, I know," he chirped. "We should play Black Oasis together some time, bro. Me and Hans and you and your buddies."

"Yeah, maybe," I said, trying not to get tense at the thought of my routine with my friends being all messed up by adding new people. But I should probably make an effort, and Larkin seemed nice. A little loud and hyper, but nice. He'd probably get along really well with Nev, to be honest, and Nev was my best friend, so maybe we'd actually mesh okay.

My belly fluttered with nerves when the doors to the backstage area came into view up ahead. I could already hear people talking in there, as well as the ever-present sound of a blender running, stuff clattering in the sink, laughter and the wrestlers yelling jovially to each other.

One of the dressing room doors opened and Vince, the other ghoul here, appeared dressed only in a towel, his dark hair wet and his grey chest and stomach on full display. He had muscle definition, whereas I had exactly zero, but ghouls always tended to run lean and sinewy. Almost gaunt.

Still, he was… My cheeks heated as I tried not to stare, but… damn it, he was hot too.

And he seemed to be pretty good ‘buddies' with Ewen. I kept remembering that quip Vince had made when they were rehearsing the other week, about knowing how good Ewen was at teasing a dick. I kept wondering if they'd ever…

"Hey," Vince said enthusiastically when he saw us, pausing to wait for us to catch up. "Awesome weekend, huh? Great job, Rafe. We're all super impressed by how smoothly it all went."

I flushed from the praise. "Good. Uh, thanks."

He pushed open the door and held it for me to walk through. I took a breath and braced myself, already planning to slip inside and quietly stand in the corner. I assumed Holt just wanted to give everyone a rundown of how the weekend had gone.

"Here he is!" I jumped when Holt's voice rang out, looking up to see him striding toward me with a huge grin. He was wearing a neon green silk shirt with enormous billowing sleeves and tight cuffs, tucked into skintight black pants with matching green high-heeled boots. He looked like a flamboyant punk pirate. "The man of the hour."

"Uh…" I glanced around, wanting to shrink back when everyone turned to look at me.

My belly clenched with something when I saw Ewen in the kitchen area, leaning a hip on the counter with his head tucked under his arm. He was still wearing his wrestler outfit—those tiny cut-off denim shorts and the fringed shirt that gaped open to show off his chest.

I was pretty sure I stared for a bit too long. I was too tired to remember not to.

He noticed. His mouth stretched into a crooked smile, but for once it didn't seem all that cocky or condescending. He was just smiling at me.

It was weird.

"You did so good." Suddenly, Holt's long fingers were gripping my face as he stared down at me with that unsettlingly feral grin. "So fucking good. I could kiss you, you brilliant bastard."

"Um." I stared up at him, somewhat dazed. "What?"

"Great job, Rafe," Taylor piped up as Holt let go of my face to sling his arm around my shoulders. "It went really, really well."

The wrestlers all murmured in agreement, several of them raising their protein shakes to me. Except for the royal fae guy, High Lord Crossbody, who was leaning against the wall and examining his fingernails.

What the fuck was going on? Why were they all… congratulating me?

"Uh, I'm… just the IT guy," I said slowly. "I just did the technical bit. The production guys did more than me—"

"Yes, well, it wouldn't have been possible without the technical bit." Holt waved his hand then gave my shoulder a jovial squeeze. "We're all shit with computers."

"I'm not shit with computers," Larkin protested with a pout from where he stood tucked into Seb's side.

"That reminds me," Holt then muttered to me. "I can't get into my emails again. I think my password changed itself or something."

My shoulders sagged as I suppressed a sigh. "Like I said the last two times, passwords don't change themselves. You're probably just typing it in wrong again—"

"That can wait, anyway. My point is, without you, Goliaths wouldn't be able to embark on this next exciting phase." Holt was still grinning widely. "This extremely lucrative and exciting phase."

I managed a wan smile, too fucking exhausted to muster much, if any, enthusiasm. "Glad it went well."

"I'm taking everyone out for a drink to celebrate," Holt declared, smacking me on the back before releasing me. "We're going to Gargy's."

I blanched as Larkin exclaimed, "Noice."

"Well, have fun," I said quickly, trying to discreetly inch back toward the door. "I better—"

"Oh no. You're coming." That grey hand with its hot pink nails reappeared on my shoulder. With a firm grip, Holt led me deeper into the room so I couldn't escape. "And you're taking tomorrow off to relax." Lowering his voice, he leaned in and murmured, "Maybe do a face mask or something?"

My nostrils flared in offence. I knew I looked tired, damn it—he didn't need to point it out! Besides, ghouls had naturally shadowed eyes. I mean, yes, mine were looking a bit more sunken than normal, but still. Rude.

"I'd really just rather go home," I said tentatively, then winced when several wrestlers booed. "I'm not a big drinker," I added helplessly.

"Doesn't have to be booze." Carl, aka Blood Suckapunch, gave me a friendly grin. "But you should come out with us, man."

"Please come, Rafe," Susan said eagerly. "It'd be nice to get to know you better."

I faltered, because Susan seemed too sweet to say no to. Then Val Kyl-More sauntered up to me and clapped me on the shoulder with a grin.

"You're a Goliath now, Rafe. Gotta deal with us sometime."

I felt my face get a little warm as I gave her a hesitant smile. I still found her stupidly hot. And I was still, beneath my awkwardness and general hatred for crowds and socialising, a stupid horny guy. So I was tempted.

Hornier than usual right now, actually, seeing as I'd been too tired the last few nights to wait up and keep an eye out for Ewen next door.

I found myself darting a quick look at him. He was watching me, eyes slightly narrowed as he took in Val's hand on my shoulder and my flushed cheeks.

"Okay," I heard myself say. "Just for one."

"Excellent." Holt turned, now wearing a huge, hot pink faux fur coat. He fluffed up his hair before grabbing Taylor's hand and heading for the door. "We'll go close down the bar while everyone gets changed. Seb, will you come and get rid of the stragglers?"

"Sure thing, boss." The quiet werewolf kissed the top of Larkin's head before stepping forward.

"I'll help," Larkin said eagerly, clinging to Seb's hand. "And I'll call some cabs."

I stood there awkwardly, already regretting my decision to say yes, as they left the room and several of the wrestlers followed to go change out of their outfits.

I already hated this. I didn't know anyone well enough to just hang out with them until we were all ready to leave, and on top of how uncomfortable I got around people I didn't know—especially a lot of them—I was sleep-deprived.

I rubbed my burning eyes, then tried to hide a yawn behind my hand. When I looked up, my pulse leaped.

Because Ewen was heading toward me.

My heart started to pound. I didn't know what he was going to say, and I wasn't mentally prepared to interact with him. Especially while he was wearing that outfit.

He wasn't flashing me his usual cocky grin though—the one he wore when he was getting ready to crack jokes at my expense or tease me. In fact, weirdly, he looked kind of… concerned. Or something. Then he gave me a tiny smile—a kind of soft, almost sympathetic one, like he knew how uncomfortable I was—and my belly flipped.

"Hey, Rafe." A voice came from my left before he could reach me, making me jump. I turned to see Kit the mothperson bounding toward me.

They were already in their human skin, their wings and tarsal claws gone. They still had their shaggy dark hair, but their eyes were now deep brown and their skin was a pale human shade.

"How's it hangin'?" they said eagerly, then before I could even open my mouth to answer, continued, "Lark mentioned you're a gamer?"

My shoulders unclenched infinitesimally. At least it was a subject I was comfortable with.

I nodded, darting a quick look to my right. Ewen had been waylaid by Vince, but he glanced over and our eyes met briefly. I hurriedly whipped my head back toward Kit and managed to give them a tiny smile.

"Yep."

Their eyes brightened. "Sick. You ever play Moth Simulator?"

"Uh, no." I looked over at Ewen and Vince again. They were standing kind of close together. Vince laughed at something Ewen said and lightly punched his shoulder.

I was trying to remember if I'd ever seen Vince leaving Ewen's house in the morning. Looking all fucked out and satisfied.

"I've actually been coming up with a concept for my own moth-based game," Kit was saying, so I reluctantly dragged my gaze away to pay attention to them.

I didn't think I had. Ever seen Vince leaving Ewen's after a hookup, that was. But there'd been so many over the years, there was no way I'd recognise all of them.

"Cool," I said to Kit. My gaze slowly drifted back to the right.

Ewen said something else and grinned at Vince. Vince laughed again and this time patted Ewen's chest.

What did that mean?

Were they fucking?

"Mine is more focused on the romance aspect," Kit was telling me, and when I saw Vince get Ewen into a headlock with another laugh, something ugly twisted my stomach into knots.

Anger surged a second later. Fucking Dan Ewen. He was just so… annoying. And I was annoyed at myself for letting him affect me.

Clenching my jaw, I resolutely turned away so I couldn't see him anymore and gave Kit my full attention.

"Moth romance," I said to show I'd been listening. "Nice. Cool."

They grinned and lifted a hand for a high five. "You get it."

I wasn't sure what it was I had supposedly got , but I awkwardly returned the high five.

"I'll show you the sketches I made on my phone when we get to bar," Kit told me enthusiastically.

My head was practically twitching with the urge to turn once again and see what Ewen was doing. I didn't let myself, instead taking a deep breath and smiling at Kit.

"Sounds good."

They seemed nice, and I would feel more comfortable talking about games with them than having to make small talk with any of the others, if I was being honest.

And if I was going to have to endure an hour or so in a bar with my co-workers, at least this would keep my mind off a certain dullahan and his stupid tiny shorts and wet T-shirts and what he might be getting up to with a different ghoul.