Chapter 17 - Deathstalker

I dragged my well-worn Risk board into the lounge that evening, setting it up on the low coffee table with the kind of care usually reserved for priceless artifacts, or, in my case, elaborate bait. I lined up the colored army pieces in perfect formation, set out the dice and the little dice tower, and leaned back, waiting for someone, anyone, to take the bait.

After lunch, I’d bumped into Emily again, somewhere between the storage bay and engineering, and ended up making out like we were teenagers hiding in the back of a movie theater. The way she’d grabbed the front of my suit and pulled me closer, her lips warm and eager, had sent my brain into overdrive. I could still feel the heat of her touch, the press of her fingers, the way she’d laughed when I’d reluctantly pulled away, mumbling something about needing to breathe. And now? Now I can’t stop thinking about it.

The crew trickled in, one by one, clad in their loungewear and looking for a place to flop. My eyes kept drifting to the door, waiting for her, even though my head was still full of her from earlier. Finally, Emily walked in, sinking into her usual spot on the couch. My heart flipped, like it always did, because of course it did. She tucked her bare feet under her, completely at ease. I forced myself to look away. Play it cool, Luca.

Joey arrived next, took one look at the board, and immediately shook his head. “Nah, man. I’m too tired from, you know, doing nothing all day.”

“What a guy,” I muttered, trying not to roll my eyes as Chris followed him in, already munching on a protein bar.

“This game takes forever,” Chris said through a mouthful of whatever protein-flavored nonsense he was eating. “And let’s face it, nobody in this room can be trusted. Last time I played, I ended up with no allies and no armies. Pass.”

Emily laughed, the sound lighting up the room. She leaned her head back against the cushion, and my breath hitched, just a little. “He’s got a point. Risk always ends with someone flipping the board,” she said, patting the cushion beside her. “Come on, Luca, sit. Nobody’s playing.”

I stared at her, then at the board, and tried to keep my eyes from drifting back to her bare feet or the way her loungewear looked just right. Damn it, Luca, focus.

“You guys suck,” I muttered, sweeping the pieces back into the box like it wasn’t a big deal. I plopped down beside Emily, trying not to think about how natural it felt to be this close to her. Too easy. Too good. Maybe I should have brought more board games.

“So, Joey,” I said, my voice casual but my eyes fixed on Emily, “What exactly have you been doing for the last half hour? Besides, you know, taking up half the couch." I tried to keep the edge out of my voice, but my eyes lingered on Emily, searching for any reaction. I hadn't meant to sound so pointed. The truth was, I'd been wondering where she was. Wondering and maybe, okay, obsessing just a little.

Emily gave me a sidelong glance, her lips curving into a knowing smile. She didn't answer where she'd been though. Instead, she winked, her bare foot lightly nudging my leg under the coffee table. The contact, however brief, sent a jolt through me. My senses sharpened, hyper-aware of everything: her foot, the faint scent of her perfume, the way she seemed to know exactly what she was doing to me. Why doesn't she just say it? Say where she'd been?

“Looking for something good,” Joey answered, oblivious, slouching back even further with his arms crossed, like he was trying to take up as much space as possible. He shrugged. “Everything’s garbage.”

Joey clearly wasn't going to pick anything decent. “Fine. My turn,” I declared, grabbing the remote and scrolling quickly through the movie catalog. I stopped on Deathstalker and hit play, maybe a little too abruptly. Honestly? I needed the distraction. And yeah, part of me was curious to see if Emily liked these old-school action flicks. She was hard to read sometimes.

“Seriously?” Zoe asked, raising an eyebrow as the opening credits rolled. She always had to be so judgmental. “Isn’t this movie kind of... rapey?”

Ryan shrugged, already laughing at the absurd dialogue as Deathstalker swaggered onto the screen. He was such a dork. What the hell was he even laughing at? “It’s an ‘80s classic. What’d you expect?”

“The girl is hotter in Deathstalker 2,” Joey chimed in, earning a chorus of groans. I bit my tongue, determined not to comment because if they had any idea what was running through my head right now, I’d never hear the end of it.

“What? No, the original’s got a better rack and shows way more,” Danny added.

Zoe immediately turned and smacked him on the shoulder, her cheeks tinting pink. “Seriously, Danny?” she said, narrowing her eyes. “You know who doesn’t have a rack? Me!” Her voice carried its usual sarcasm, but there was a flicker of something else, something that made me think she wasn’t entirely joking.

Danny winced, his grin faltering for a second. “Oh, come on, Zo, that’s not what I meant,” he said, clearly scrambling, putting his arm around her shoulders. “You’re… you’re perfect the way you are.” He avoided her eyes, his own cheeks turning red, and I had to stop myself from laughing out loud. This guy was doomed.

Emily chimed in, her tone sharper than usual. “Seriously, though, this is what you guys focus on? Rack ratings?”

I bit back a laugh, feeling my cheeks heat up. She had a point, and damn, she looked good when she was fired up. Her eyes flicked toward me, and for a second, I thought she could read my mind. My heart did a weird flutter-jump thing.

“Oh my god, guys,” I said, sinking deeper into the couch, trying to play it cool. Her foot brushed against me again, and a jolt went through me. I tried to focus on the movie, to get lost in the ridiculous fight scenes, but it was hard. Her foot was right there, a light pressure against my leg, and it was messing with my head. "Will you all shut up so we can watch this?" I blurted out, maybe a little too harshly.

Chris leaned forward, his eyes glued to the screen as the camera panned to Deathstalker flexing his absurdly ripped physique. I immediately felt the urge to drop to the floor and crank out a hundred pushups. “Look at those delts,” Chris said, half to himself. “Do you think he’s a nattie? That’s not just bodyweight workouts, man.”

Danny snorted, making that half-laugh sound he always did when he thought something was too ridiculous to be serious. “Were steroids even a thing back then?”

“Oh, they were a thing,” Chris replied, rubbing his chin in that way that made his biceps flex just enough to annoy me. “But still, the discipline to get that shredded is insane. Respect.”

“Respect for what?” Zoe cut in, her voice dripping with skepticism. She didn’t even look at the screen, her attention was locked on Danny, her eyebrow raised just slightly. “Dude barely moves his lips when he talks. He’s a talking brick.”

Chris waved her off, gesturing at the screen like it was obvious. “The muscles, Zoe. The guy’s built like a tank.”

“Yeah, sure, but what’s the point?” Zoe asked, finally glancing at the screen. Her tone was light, almost lazy, but the way she shifted under the blanket said she was anything but. Her foot nudged Danny’s leg, subtle but deliberate, and her lips quirked into a small smile. “All that bulk just slows you down. Toned’s better, lean, fast, and, you know, actually functional.”

Danny’s face turned pink, and he stared at his tablet like it held the answers to the universe. “Uh… good point, I guess,” he mumbled, his voice a little strained.

Zoe didn’t respond. She just leaned back, her head resting lightly on Danny’s shoulder, her hands hidden beneath the blanket they shared. Whatever she was doing under there, it had Danny sitting stiff as a board, his eyes locked on the screen but not really seeing it. She didn’t even glance at him, her expression perfectly casual, but the faintest hint of a smirk tugged at her lips. She knew exactly what she was doing.

Meanwhile, Chris shook his head, still focused on the screen. “Yeah, well, those delts are still insane.”

I sighed, sinking deeper into the couch. Why do I even hang out with these people? The movie wasn’t distracting me nearly enough, especially with Zoe working her magic on Danny right next to me.

Emily rolled her eyes, and she was so close I could smell her shampoo, some kind of floral scent that made my head spin. I had this crazy urge to lean in, to get even closer, but I held back, afraid of overstepping. "I'd rather talk about the magic," she said, her voice light but confident. “It’s cooler than the sword-swinging. Honestly, I wish the System had given us magic. Imagine having fireballs or teleportation instead of” she gestured vaguely at the group. “Whatever the hell this is. All passive skills and no lightning bolts.”

“Really?” Danny cut in, adjusting his glasses. “Magic’s stupid,” Danny continued, all serious like he was presenting at a science fair. “All it does is create shortcuts. With our passive skills, we can develop tech that surpasses any magical system. It just takes time and planning.”

I wanted to laugh at how damn earnest he sounded, but Zoe beat me to it. “Yeah,” she said, smirking in that way that made her feel magnetic, like she owned the room without trying. “Because planning is totally this crew’s strong suit.” And honestly? She wasn’t wrong.

On the couch, Emily shifted closer, her shoulder brushing mine, and a thrill shot through me. This was new, all of it. This easy closeness, the casual touch that felt anything but casual. I tried to focus on the movie. Deathstalker was actually pretty great, the effects were hilarious, the action was non-stop, and even the dialogue was growing on me. But the warmth of Emily beside me was a constant, happy distraction.

When she leaned into me, resting her head lightly against my chest, the world narrowed. It wasn't that everything else faded, not exactly. I was still aware of the others, of Zoe and Danny's quiet murmurs, of Chris's occasional commentary on Deathstalker's physique, but they felt distant, like background noise. What mattered was Emily. The gentle weight of her head, the scent of her shampoo, something light and floral, and the steady rhythm of her breathing. This was everything I'd been hoping for all day, and it was even better than I'd imagined.

My hand twitched. I hesitated for a heartbeat. Was this really okay? Then, before I could overthink it, I lifted my arm and draped it around her shoulders. My heart was pounding, a rapid, excited beat. Would she pull away? But Emily didn’t move. Instead, she reached up, took my arm, and pulled it tighter around her. And just like that, any lingering doubt vanished. She fit so perfectly against me, her fingers resting lightly on my forearm as she snuggled closer, her legs curling under her like she was completely at ease. It felt… incredible.

I could feel the rapid pulse in my veins, a physical echo of the excitement buzzing inside me. Every nerve ending felt alive, sparking with a new kind of energy. I relaxed into it, into her, shifting slightly to make her more comfortable. It felt so natural, so right, being this close to her.

The movie played on, a fun spectacle. I laughed along with the others at the more ridiculous moments, but my focus kept drifting back to Emily. To the way she felt against me. This was new territory for me, this feeling. And her arm, held close against her, confirmed it wasn't one-sided. It was a silent acknowledgment, a quiet confirmation that maybe, just maybe, she felt it too.

She was leaning on me. Actually leaning on me. And it felt… perfect. Her fingers were warm against my skin, a light pressure that sent a pleasant shiver through me. I could feel the steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, a rhythm that seemed to sync with my own. It was nice, this closeness, this shared space.

I swallowed hard, my mind a whirl of emotions. Happiness, excitement, a touch of disbelief. It was all there, swirling inside me. I tried to focus on the movie, on the comfortable silence that had settled between us, but every so often, I'd glance down at Emily, at the way her hair fell softly against her cheek, and a goofy grin would spread across my face. I was a goner. Totally and completely gone on this girl. And for the first time, maybe ever, I didn't mind one bit. This felt too good to be anything but right.