Chapter Eight

Eight

I get Erik out of the apartment.

He must have realized I'm trying to loosen him up. After all, I'm repeating my strategy from the day we met after matching on Cinder. He knows I'm up to something tricky, but I see it as a good sign that he is going along with it.

Erik is in limbo. He doesn't talk to me, but I know he is frustrated with his fruitless job search and the fact that he doesn't know what to do with his life. Whenever he's not in his room, he drags his feet around the kitchen like a pale ghost sporting jogging pants and tired eyes.

He looks quite decent now, with his long hair down, untangled and still a bit wet, an unwrinkled black T-shirt, and dark blue jeans.

Whenever I'm home, I only see Erik go to the supermarket and the gym. Occasionally, he is at the dining table with his laptop. The few times I glanced at his screen when passing by, I saw him scrolling through job ads, never looking excited or engaged, just bored, frowning, or pressing his temples as if relieving a headache.

He cooks a lot, often elaborate dishes, as if cooking is the moment that gives his day meaning. He never invites me to eat, however. Never chats when we are in the same room. The last time we talked was when he helped me assemble my bed, and I haven't started a conversation since, though I keep my door open and always say hi whenever I cross paths with him in the morning or after work.

I thought he might be annoyed at me for some reason, but he's here with me now.

We walked to a bar near the apartment. It's too cold to sit outside, but we watch the sunset through the windows. It has rained all day, but after five, the sun decided to make a brief appearance before retiring behind the gray clouds, tinting them with artsy orange strokes. It's a Saturday evening, but the crowds haven't swarmed the place yet.

"So, what is your proposition?" Erik looks down at his beer.

"I want to hear about your project," I start, calm and slow to keep my nerves under control. "What it's about, why you abandoned it, and what is stopping you from finishing it."

He looks up as if seeing me for the first time since we left the apartment. It wasn't what he expected to hear. I stay still in my seat, waiting.

Erik drinks his beer. He gulps it down in one go like a true Viking. I laugh.

"Okay, let's do this." I lift my glass and drink up too. It goes to my brain way too fast. I giggle, feeling dizzy. "Are we ready now?" I look at him, grinning.

He nods, surrendering a smile in return. That makes a surge of heat spread through my chest, comforting and anxiety-inducing at the same time.

"My project was an app. A mix between a game and a..." He stops himself. I lean forward, expectant. Erik clears his throat and says in a low volume, hesitant, "A dating app."

I raise my eyebrows and smile. "So, you're trying to make something better than Cinder, Tinder, and everything similar?"

He nods. "Yeah. I hate those dating apps."

"Then why were you on Cinder?" I give him a teasing smile.

He glares at me as if I don't deserve an answer. "What choice do people have nowadays?" I'm opening my mouth to reply, but he says, "It's what devoted developers do, okay? We look for ways to make something better."

Erik takes a break to drink and realizes that his glass is empty, so he lifts an arm to call the waiter. "Want one more?"

I shake my head. "No, no, I'm good." I can't drink too much tonight. I need to stay in control.

After Erik orders another beer, he resumes. "As I told you, it started as a university project. My classmate and I enjoyed working on it and agreed we would continue with the app after we graduated. I had a couple of temporary part-time jobs that allowed me to keep working on the app for a year or so, then I got employed at Scorpio."

I nod, giving him my full attention. I try to read his eyes as he tries to read mine, and the result is a staring game with no winner.

"Was your working partner in from start to end?" I break the silence after what could be a second or a minute—I couldn't tell, lost as I am in his unintentionally sexy stare.

The waiter puts Erik's beer in front of him, and he starts drinking it immediately, though a little slower this time. The distraction makes us drop the staring game.

"The idea was mine ," he says as if there has been no interruption. "My partner joined the project when I had already begun and realized I needed help. I'm mainly a programmer, and I wanted someone with strong design skills."

Erik runs his index finger over the nodes in the wooden table, lost in his past.

"I was at Scorpio for three years, and I tried to keep working on the project in my free time, but it was too hard. I didn't have a life back then. It was all about work." He sighs, smiling a little. "My partner was working at a tech start-up at the time, and then he quit because he wanted to make games again. While he was unemployed, he put a lot of hours into our project. It was coming together nicely, I got excited, and I just... I thought we could do this full-time, you know?"

Erik looks at me in a self-punishing way, like he expects me to say, Yes, that was a stupid thought.

But I don't think it was. At all.

"I finally decided to quit my job at Scorpio, and we started the company, Storm Interactive. I mean, I did the whole bureaucracy." There is a distaste for his former business partner in Erik's tone, as if the guy didn't just disappoint him but betrayed him.

"I think you were brave," I say, because I suspect he needs to hear it.

Erik lets out a self-deprecating chuckle. "I was an idiot," he corrects me.

We look at each other, my intense gaze piercing through his. I won't let him hate himself for being a dreamer. I arch an eyebrow. "Because you followed your dream?"

"Life is not a fairy tale, Sol." Bitterness is back in his tone, but I'm used to his defense mechanisms by now. Erik uses scorn and mockery to distance himself from the things that hurt him. Because I now know what is underneath the surface, I can raise a shield and not let any of that bother me.

"He left you, or what?"

Erik blinks as if me following his story with interest surprises him. He nods slowly, disarmed.

"Yes. And I couldn't continue alone."

There is so much more to the story, of course. So many details he is not telling me. But why should I expect him to share that? I didn't even tell him what I want yet.

Erik's left hand closes in a fist on the table, and I watch as his jaw tightens. "Martin left me to go work at fucking Scorpio Games after I quit."

What? My jaw drops. No, this can't—

"Martin? Do you mean Martin Olesen?"

Holy mother of—

"Yes. Martin fucking Olesen."

I shriek and cover my mouth. Then I bang a hand on the table. Hard, like Erik did that day at the English pub.

"Oh my gosh, Erik!" I can't believe this. It's so messed up. I stand, disoriented. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

"Why did it matter?" He drinks up, eyes narrowed.

Either he thinks I'm overreacting, or he is not grasping the seriousness of the situation. I rest my hands on the table and lean closer to him.

"Because Martin Olesen is my nemesis." A memory sparks in my brain. I said this to Erik the day we met at the English pub. He was surprised and, right after, decided to give me the room. Probably because he thought that by helping me, he'd be hindering Martin's success.

Erik's wish to get back at his treacherous former business partner doesn't bother me. In fact, he should want that.

"Erik," I say with a grave tone, seeking his eyes with even more intensity. "I'm competing with Martin for that promotion, as you're aware." I take a deep breath before releasing the bomb. "And Martin is going to steal your idea and sell it to Scorpio Games if he becomes the new game director."

Erik stands up too. "What the fuck are you saying?" His brow is furrowed. Very. We stare at each other.

"I had no idea he was your business partner. But this changes everything..."

Or, well, this gives me more motive to ask for Erik's help.

We both want the same thing. Martin Olesen to go to h—

"Why are you saying that he'll steal my idea? How can you know that?"

"Here's the thing." I sit down again, and Erik reluctantly settles back on his chair too. "The day Lars told me about the game director position, he said that Martin was talking about a truly innovative idea for an app. ‘A dating game of sorts.'"

Erik's face twists into a scowl. "Motherfucker," he mutters, his right hand also clenching into a fist.

"You think he would do that to you?" Maybe I'm jumping to conclusions...

"He would," Erik says without hesitation. "God, how could I've been so stupid?" He hits the table with his fist.

"It's not your—"

"I didn't ask him to sign a contract or a nondisclosure agreement, Sol. I took no legal measures to guarantee the idea would remain secret—and mine . I simply...trusted that bastard. Goddammit. " He rubs his face. "And he's being considered for the role?"

"Lars hinted at that, yes," I confirm, pained to see his anguish. I would also be crawling out of my skin if I was in his situation. "And Martin is in my Fun Season group."

"Fuck," Erik curses again, brushing his hair back with his fingers in exasperation. "But if he pitched the game to Lars, then it's too late."

"I don't think he gave the whole thing away yet," I say. "Knowing Martin, he's using it as leverage to seem like a more interesting candidate. ‘Hey, Lars, I already have an idea I'm ready to pursue if you hire me as game director.'" I imitate Martin's dry, haughty voice.

Erik smiles at my goofy impersonation, which makes my stomach tingle in a funny way. "That sounded accurate," he says.

"I already hated Martin's guts," I grumble. "Now I just..."

Now I want to rip him to absolute pieces. Like he'd done to the last idea I pitched.

Erik looks at me, but I can't tell if he is moved by my concern for his situation or if he is suspicious of why I brought him here to have this conversation.

"Help me understand, Sol. What do you want from me?"

He crosses his arms on the table. His fists are still tightly closed, though his face looks calmer.

"Before I knew...well...all of this..." I make an encompassing hand movement. "I was going to offer help so you could finish your project in exchange for you helping me with something."

I look down, losing courage. He leans forward, pressing me. "And now?"

"Now I want to offer you the same deal. But now I know you have strong reasons to help me."

"And why is that?" He squints.

I keep close eye contact, feeling more breathless by the second. "Because we have a common enemy."

"Hmm," he grunts, and I must stop myself from enjoying the sound for the second time in the day. "So, you want help getting your promotion?"

"That's correct."

We stare at each other, barely blinking.

"And how do you want me to help you?"

I swallow hard. I can never be prepared for this part, so I might as well shoot it out and hope it hits the bull's-eye.

"Tuesday last week was the first event of my group."

He doesn't nod, just waits patiently. Cold, solid, and still—like a marble statue in a museum. There is still anger in his eyes. I remind myself the feeling is not aimed at me.

"We ate tapas...and people started talking about their relationships and..." I babble out, barely breathing between words. "And then people asked about my relationship status. I panicked and said I have a Danish boyfriend."

Erik blinks a few times to make sense of my jumble of words. When he speaks, it's in the most boring, disdainful tone one can use. Like his remark when he saw I didn't have a bed. "You lied about having a boyfriend."

I chew on my bottom lip. "Danish. A Danish boyfriend."

Erik rubs his face, looking exhausted. And disappointed in me.

This incites my urge to defend myself, even though I agree I did something extremely stupid. "It's done, and now I can't tell Lars I made it up. I need to impress him, remember?" I wait for sympathy, but none comes. "And, look, the next event is a trivia night ." I shiver at the thought. "I suck at quiz games, Erik. If I'm bad at trivia questions about Brazilian things, I can't imagine how I'll perform in a game designed for Europeans."

My cheeks heat up. Here I am, admitting more embarrassing things in front of this Norse god look-alike who has the habit of making me feel idiotic. I can't stop my mouth, however, driven by the pipe dream that he'll understand my predicament—and care.

" If I say that we broke up or I lied, I'll be put in Martin's ‘happy singles' team—ugh—or I'll be alone as a complete loser. That will not help me win against the bastard now, will it?" I glare at Erik with the sternness he reserves for me. "Besides, I have to seem like I have roots in Den—"

"Stop." Erik raises a hand. "I don't care about any of that. Sorry, but this is your problem. You lied. Now you fix the situation."

He is getting up. I hold his wrist, and he sits back down, sighing as if to say, What now?

"Please, Erik. You're my last hope." He opens his mouth, but I speak first. "I know this sounds very familiar, but listen, it's different this time. You need my help."

"I need your help?" He does the eyebrow thing again.

I nod with vigor. "I'm an expert in dating apps. Besides, are you forgetting that I'm a designer? I have artistic skills too. I can help you with anything you need. Game design, level design, graphic design, UI design... Name anything design, and I'm there!"

He stares at me, silent, and my chest trembles with the hope that he is considering the proposition.

"I know that Scorpio being your previous workplace makes you hesitant. But you don't have to be. It will be a familiar place, which means you can be in control ." I lean forward, stressing the words. "You'll show them you're not lying in bed feeling sorry for yourself. You'll show Martin you're so much better than him."

A vein trembles in Erik's neck, and I watch him swallow slowly. He's not breaking eye contact. I see that as a reason to continue.

"Also, I'll sign a contract of confidentiality if you need. I'll never steal your idea or talk about it with anyone else. It will still be your app. I'll just assist you."

He looks down, blinking rapidly. I sense his stress, but I also sense his hesitation. It's not a quick no. He's thoroughly considering the idea.

I interlace my fingers on the table and lean even closer. "If we work hard enough, we'll have a publishable build by the end of this year, and we can put it in the app store before Lars decides who gets the promotion. That way, even if I fail and Martin ends up becoming the new game director, it won't be his idea because it will already be out in the world. You know that's what you need to do, right?" I look at Erik with intent, not giving him time to answer. "When you're done with the code, you copyright it. You trademark the title and logo. Ideas and game mechanics can't be copyrighted, and patents are murky in this industry. People will still copy your idea later, but that's all right if you're the first one to publish it. You'll be known for inventing that app, not Martin. But only if you act now."

I'm starting to believe Erik has indeed frozen into a statue. I touch his arm, triggering an electric tingle that runs from my fingers all the way up to my neck. His fist loosens with a jerk, and he glances at me before staring down at the table again.

"Erik," I say, watching him bite his lower lip in a thinking expression that was not meant to make my hormones overload with a warm flush of anticipation. "I know it's a lot to ask. Being my fake boyfriend to impress your former boss and take down your nemesis? Phew." A new wrinkle appears in his forehead, and I instantly regret my arrangement of words. "All I'm saying is, I get that this will be hard for you but—"

"It won't." Erik wakes up from his trance, the corners of his lips quirking up. "It will be a lot of fun."

I lean back, wary. "Are you joking now?"

He shakes his head with the subtlest smirk I've ever seen. My heart thumps in response.

"Same conditions apply," he says, offering me his right hand. "It will all be fake and never, ever real. Deal?"

I shake his hand enthusiastically. "Deal."