Page 43 of Aim Assist

Stupid, stupid Amy.

He's across from me, in his own area. They film as we stream—something about putting together episodes or something, I don't know. It all goes over my head, because I'm too busy raging.

I play the part of the excited influencer, gushing over the game, the setup, the opportunity. The game's cute. It really is. I even enjoy it, when I don't want to leap over my desk to claw that stupid mask off Liam's face.

Inside, I'm a mess of emotions. Betrayal, anger, humiliation.

I focus on the game, refusing to make eye contact.

My character's a tiny little elf, with long black hair and green eyes. I name her Ash, because I imagine burning Liam into a pile of it and then throwing them over the ocean so he can swim with the fucking fish.

And all the while, I feel his eyes on me. Those damnable blue-green eyes, watching me from behind that stupid mask. What is he thinking? Is he enjoying this? Reveling in my discomfort?

I don't know. I can't tell. And it's driving me insane.

The minutes drag by, each one an eternity. I've never been so relieved to hear K call for a break. I'm out of my chair in an instant, mumbling some excuse about needing the restroom.

Liam

It's been three days.

Three days of Amy avoiding me like a fucking swarm of locusts ready to rain plague and havoc on her life.

Okay. So, I didn't exactly tell her I was going to be her partner. I thought it would be a cute surprise.

Note: It was not.

She's not happy with me.

Or, did it start when I took her to bed the first day we met? Because she ran out of the hotel room as soon as it was over.

I'm not a man with an ego. Not like Aiden. Even so, I know I'm not that bad. I made sure she came first. I…

…

Okay, so I did things to her at the bar in front of people. Not cool.

And the elevator… Was a little risky. Fair.

Maybe throwing her over my shoulder like a fucking caveman wasn't the best idea, but I didn't want her breaking her adorable ankles to hustle that delectable ass to my room.

And, yeah, I could have been a little more gentle.

More romantic.

Sweeter.

But if she'd give me a chance, I could show her I'd later remembered to grab the rose from the bar. We'd left it on the table in our haste, and they'd kept it for me.

Haven't had a single fucking chance to give it to her. It's just in my hotel room, staring at me from the top of my dresser like a fucking failure.

God damn it.

Every fucking day I'm sitting across from her for hours. I'm obsessed with the anklet she's begun wearing, which is one of the few things I can see of her from around her desk.

I've never been some weird foot guy, but when it's about the only thing you can see of the woman you want to have more than a one-night stand with… You take what you can get.

Plus, she's still wearing that toe ring. It's cute.

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