Arena (21 page)

“Were you waiting for me?” I asked.

“I was about to give up. What took you so long?”

Picturing you naked took so long.

“Nothing,” I quipped, pushing past him.

We walked down the hallway together toward my bunk. Our feet tapped along the floor, emphasized by the echo down the empty corridor. There was something magical about this time of night. Like you're the only person in the world. As much as I looked forward to my nightly fights with Rooke, this part of the evening never quite felt normal to me, almost like we were in high school again, and he was walking me to class or back to my door after a date.

“You ready for tomorrow?” he asked.

The finals. My chest tightened, and I forced a breath through my lungs.

“I think so.”

“You think so?” He laughed. “Three matches ago, it would have been an automatic ‘yes.' I thought all this training would have bolstered your confidence, not lowered it.”

“It has, but three matches ago we weren't in the finals.” I paused, shuffling my feet against the floor. “It's not so much us as the other team that I'm worried about. I need to study them more. We're down to the top ones in the country.”

“Kali, you've studied them all week. You know what you're doing.”

We reached my bunk, and I tapped my lock code into the keypad. When the door opened and I stepped in, Rooke's footsteps followed. I whirled around, blocking his path in the doorframe.

“I think this is where you are a gentleman and say good night.”

His gaze flicked down to my arm.

“Are you sure you don't need help tending to that?” His hand grazed my elbow, where a fresh bruise had begun to blossom. “It looks rough.”

His fingers lingered, triggering goose bumps. I shook him off and folded my arms. “Then maybe you shouldn't hit me so hard.”

His grin widened. “Would the warrior have it any other way?”

The warrior. I had to give Rooke credit: He knew me, understood me inside out and backwards now. I was bold, and he was about to find out just how much.

I closed the gap between us, splaying my hands against his chest. My hands glided across the hard ridges of his stomach, palms leading the way, fingertips feeling every inch. The soft, cotton fabric of his shirt strained under my grip and blocked my eyes from the same delightful journey of my hands. I pictured him the way I had earlier. Bare skin. Water slipping down. Oh yes, the shower would have been better. Why hadn't I broken into the locker room?

My gaze drifted up to his eyes, expecting to find them overflowing with shock. But they were calm and unwavering like an open lake, as if he'd expected this all along. His breaths were steady. Comfortable. Way too comfortable. That's not how I liked my men.

I weaved my fingers through the drawstring of his training shorts, and pulled. As if the strings were actually attached to his eyebrows, they raised in response. My own marionette. How cute.

“Maybe you should help me,” I said softly, leaning into him until our stomachs touched. Even through the fabrics of our shirts, heat from him brushed against my navel. His breaths weren't so calm now. “I'm sure there are a few spots I can't reach on my own.”

His eyebrows rose even farther. “Really?”

I pushed up slowly on my tiptoes, sliding my curves up his form. His breath hitched. Better. Then, hot fingers seared against the small of my back and pressed me tighter against him. Now, my breath hitched. Damn him.

Warmth coiled inside, ignited everywhere our bodies touched. The smell of fresh skin from his recent shower and that soft scent of cedar that
never left him filled my lungs. Whether it was from all those books of his or his cologne, I didn't know. Or care. I inhaled again and trembled against him. He smirked. A soft chuckle resounded in his chest.

No. I win this fight.

My fingers curled through his hair, pulling the strands taut. Desperate. He brought his head down as I tilted my own. His quickened breaths ghosted against my skin as his stubbled chin swept against mine, ticklish and rough at the same time. Our noses brushed. Our lips grazed. Almost. So close.

Everything else disappeared in that moment. No facility. No tournament. Just us, our bodies pressed together, lips touching but still not kissing. Just the overwhelming scent and taste and feel of Rooke until I was drowning in him.

I closed my eyes and murmured against his mouth. “Just one thing.”

“Hmm?”

“Good night.”

Reaching around the doorframe, I tapped the control button, and the door slid shut in his face.

T
he next day, that's when the shit hit the fan.

All because I went ape-shit crazy.

It started that morning as I scanned through my tablet, reviewing play-by-plays on the VGL's Web site in prep for the night's final matchup. In the top left-hand corner of the screen, a search bar blinked. In fading lettering, it said:
Type Team/Player's Name.
Out of curiosity, I typed in Nathan's. What excuse would they have put in as his cause of death? Heart failure, like in the tabloids? Or something even more bullshit-tastic. But the search engine spit back an answer that twisted my stomach, and not in the way I had expected.

Results not found.

No. That wasn't right. I must have spelled his name wrong. I reentered his information, trying various forms of his name, and received the same results. Several times. Finally, I gave up and typed in Team Defiance. Under the Former Members section was . . . nothing.

Nothing.

No former teammates. None.

My chest tightened. My breaths trembled as a rolling, turbulent rage flooded every cell in my body. I punched the screen. It bowed in with the
force and popped back out. Fuck the person who invented flexible LED screens.

I stormed down the hallway, letting my anger carry me to the doc's office. The facility's staff dove out of my path, some suctioning themselves against the walls, others ducking into doorways or closets. Yes, the warrior exists in real life. Luckily for everyone else, I wasn't armed.

At the doc's office, I slammed the door open. It ricocheted off the wall with the crack of thunder. Dr. Renner, who was standing at the window, dropped the tablet in her hands and nearly jumped on her desk.

“Kali?”

“They erased him.”

“Who? What are you talking about?”

I slammed the door shut and whirled back. “Nathan. He's gone out of the VGL database. They're trying to wipe him off the record. It's like he never even existed.”

Dr. Renner slowly lowered herself into her chair. She maintained eye contact, but an odd look still masked her face, as if a bear had just burst into her office. “I'm sure it's a mistake. Maybe you typed something wrong—”

I smashed my fist on her desk. “I'm not wrong.”

She held up her hands, pleading innocence. “Kali, I had nothing to do with any of this. I can assure you.”

“I know you didn't.”

“Then why are you screaming at me?”

“Because I'm pissed. You're the shrink. Aren't you supposed to handle this?”

She chuckled softly to herself. “That's not really how this works.”

I plopped down in the chair across from her, steam still spewing from my pores. “I'm not used to being this angry anymore.”

“That's not a bad thing,” she pointed out.

“But now I don't know how to deal with it.”

“It's best if you just let yourself feel that anger, all of it, in its full force. You know, just get it out,” she said. “What is it about the situation that upsets you?”

“Everything,” I exploded, jumping up from the chair. “Everything about this fucking industry. Appeasing the sponsors just so they don't drop us the second we're not popular anymore. Owners treating us like used gum. Spitting us out and tossing us away. All while they make more and more money. Meanwhile, we're the ones sacrificing our bodies and minds for ratings. RATINGS.”

The doc opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off.

“And you know what? We're supposed to do it with a fucking smile on our faces. We're supposed to appreciate all this because how many people get to play video games for a living? Yeah, it's real fun when you get hacked to bits every week, or when your teammate dies, and no one cares. Nathan was a person. A FUCKING HUMAN BEING. People don't even remember his name. No, no. As long as there's another match on Saturday, guess who gives a shit? Nobody.”

I plunked down in the chair again with a huff. It grunted in protest under my weight. Though my breaths came out in soft pants, the adrenaline pumping through my veins felt refreshing. Life-giving. I'd never felt like this anywhere outside the arena.

I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes at the doc, waiting for her reply. She tapped a fingernail against her tablet, taking a few extra seconds before trying to talk again.

“Sometimes it takes someone to stand up to what's wrong before people can see what's right,” she finally said.

“Oh yeah? What if the sponsors don't like it?”

She shrugged. “That doesn't sound like much of a warrior to me.”

My eyebrows went up. “Are you encouraging me to rebel, Dr. Renner? To stick it to the man?”

She held up her hands, signaling innocence again. “I'm just saying it wouldn't surprise me if you did. After all”—she smiled—“it matches your image.”

A stunted noise came out from the back of my throat that sounded like “hmmph.” It did match my image. And Dr. Renner was just as much a mutineer as I was. Maybe she wasn't like Clarence after all.

“I'll let you mull that over.” She tapped her tablet. “I've been meaning to ask about the sleeping pills. Have you needed them?”

A spasm clenched my stomach, and my gaze lowered to the floor. “I, uh, stopped taking them.”

“Stopped? So, you did need them?”

I bit my lip as the spasm in my stomach started swirling. Time to own up to the truth. The warrior inside took a step back.

“I abused them, doc,” I admitted. I locked my gaze on her face and forced my eyes to stay on target. The doc sat back in her chair, but she remained quiet, allowing me the opportunity to explain. I continued, “I was taking too many. I couldn't sleep without them. Without a lot of them.”

She nodded and clicked her tongue, but her features softened. “Kali, I wouldn't have given them to you if I didn't think you could handle it.”

“I know. You gave them to me as an aid. As a last resort. I understand that now. I didn't before.”

“It's good, though, that you realized all this on your own.”

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, Rooke helped, and Nathan's death made it real for me. Not at first. But eventually, yeah, I realized I had a problem.”

“Speaking of Rooke, how's your relationship with him?”

I clammed up. “What relationship? There's no relationship.”

The warrior was back.

A smiled touched her lips. “The training room would say otherwise.”

My jaw set. I crossed my arms. “You spying on me, doc?”

“No, no. But I go down that hall on my way out every night. How long have you two been going at it?” She cleared her throat as she realized her choice of words. “Sparring together, I mean.”

“About a few weeks now.”

“And how has that impacted your relationship?” she asked. “As
friends
.”

Friends
sounded a little too emphasized for my liking.

“We're better
friends
now, meaning I only want to punch him in the training room. Most of the time.”

Dr. Renner tapped her foot as she thought over my words, and I swear I saw her suppress another smile.

“Last time we talked, you were motivated to make some changes in your life. How has that worked out for you?”

“Good. Really good. Fantastic, actually. I mean, I'm not naïve. I know there's always a chance of slipping down that path again, but I feel different now. Stronger. I'm in control.”

She nodded. “Good. What helped you regain that control?”

“Training. I talked with Rooke over what was wrong with me. We worked together a lot. I'm also trying to live my life in balance. It's something I believed in a long time ago, and when I started practicing it again, it was exactly what I needed to bring me back from the edge.”

She tilted her head. “How so?”

I held up my necklace for her to see. “A yin yang represents balance. One black half and one white half to make a whole. But see how there's a white dot on the black side and a black dot on the white side?” She nodded. “That shows how they're interconnected. You can't appreciate the light without knowing the dark. Otherwise, you'd have no comparison. I realized the same thing about the virtual world and the real one. They're interconnected, and I can only be strongest there when I'm strongest here.”

She considered my words for a while. “That's insightful, Kali.” She made a few notes on her tablet. “Speaking of the virtual world, the finals are tonight. Are you anxious about that?”

“A little. If it were just me, I'd be hungry for it. But I worry about the team.”

“The more you worry about the team, the less focused you are on everything else. You're ready for this. You wouldn't have made it this far if you weren't.”

I nodded. “Yeah, you're right. Any other advice?”

“Yes. Get out of here.”

“What?”

She smiled. “Kali, you figured out on your own how to handle your gaps in time, and you stopped yourself from taking too many pills. You're
stronger than you think, and not just physically. You really don't need to see me anymore. Besides, I think you have some things to consider.”

“Like what I should do about Nathan?”

She nodded. “I can't answer that for you. You need to find a way, your own way, to honor him.”

I glanced around the office. “But I can still come back if I need it, right?”

It had only been a few weeks since I'd started coming back to reality. While the nightly training sessions and meditation had helped, I'd take anything I could get to stop from slipping back down that slope again.

The doc's smile widened. “Of course. My door is always open if you need me.”

As I left the doc's office and headed for the training room, thoughts from the appointment dominated my mind. What could I do about Nathan? Nothing that Clarence and the sponsors would approve of. I couldn't stand up to them, not directly. I couldn't risk getting kicked out of the games, or my team might be forced to forfeit this late in the tournament.

Was there nothing I could do?

In the training room, at the far end, Rooke sat in one of the weight machines. I joined him, climbing into the leg press.

“You're late,” he said, glancing at me.

“I went to see Dr. Renner.”

He nodded. “How was it?”

“Good. She thinks I'm doing really well. She's impressed with how I'm handling things.”

Rooke smiled. “You sound a bit surprised, and you shouldn't be. Most gamers have more trouble pulling themselves back.”

“Yeah. She said that, too. She also said I don't need to see her anymore.” I started pumping my legs and focused on the burning sensation in my muscles. Never thought I'd appreciate that feeling, but I'd learned to appreciate many things I never thought I would. “But I think I'll still go anyways. I mean, you're supposed to go to your general physician for a physical every year to check that everything is okay, right? So, I mean,
why not check in with the shrink once in a while, too. We have enough stresses on our minds to justify it, in my opinion.”

Rooke stared at me for a minute as he processed my words, then shook his head.

“What?” I asked. “You don't think so?”

“No, I think you're dead on.” He stood up from his machine and began adjusting the weights.

“Do you ever go to see her?” I asked.

He fumbled, almost dropping the weight in his hands. “Uh, yeah.”

“About the drugs?”

He met my eyes. “Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

He sat down on the machine, facing toward me. “Look—”

I held up a hand. “If it's personal, you don't have to tell me.”

“Yeah, I kinda do.”

My brow furrowed. What did that mean?

“Hey.”

Lily walked up beside me. She frowned, foreshadowing bad news.

“Clarence is looking for you.”

Ugh. The worst news.

I climbed out of the weight machine and started for the exit when Lily called out.

“No. Both of you.”

She motioned toward Rooke.

Double ugh.

Together, we headed for Clarence's office. Maybe with two of us, it would buffer the blow of his wrath. The second we passed through the doors, Clarence stood up from his desk. “What do you two think you're doing?”

Or maybe emphasize it.

Rooke and I exchanged glances.

“Lily said—”

“This past week you haven't been out or seen at all. You have an image to uphold.” Clarence ground his fists into his desk as his neck turned red. Great. Angrier than usual.

“We're getting toward the end of the tournament,” I protested. “I think training and rest is more important than being seen.”

Clarence glared at me. “How could you ever think that? You need to be out there promoting the sport and our sponsors.”

Oh, yes. The sponsors. How important.

“I'm supposed to do all that on top of leading the team, studying my opponents, and training every daylight hour? I'm one person. Plus, that doesn't include leisure time.”

“Leisure time?” he barked. “You think celebrities get leisure time?”

Everyone should. Maybe that's why half of them go crazy, too.

“You want us eating right and exercising every day so we're at our prime,” I said. “Don't you think some rest and relaxation should be a part of that?”

“You are the top athletes in the world. You should be able to rise above the circumstances.”

“Rise above the circumstances?” My tone matched his, growing louder with each word. “We're gamers, not gods.”

“The public doesn't know the difference. You die on-screen, and, like magic, you're fine in real life. You're not a person. You're a character.”

Every muscle inside me clenched. We were people, same as anybody. Maybe we had more drive and determination, or maybe we were just obsessed, but we were still human.