My Arrogant Ex Is My Gaming Master

Grace walked out of the dark walnut conference room. Her fingers were clamped around a freshly signed copy of the preliminary termination agreement.

She shoved the crumpled papers into her canvas tote bag. She walked down the hallway as fast as her legs could carry her. She just needed to escape this building. It felt like the walls were coated in Adelbert's scent.

She pushed through the revolving doors on the ground floor. The Boston wind whipped her face, carrying the harsh smell of car exhaust. She yanked the zipper of her hoodie all the way up to her chin.

She joined the chaotic flow of pedestrians heading toward the subway station. She squeezed into a packed train car and wrapped her hand around the freezing metal pole.

The train rattled into the dark tunnel. The deafening screech of metal on metal masked the heavy sigh that slipped past her lips. She rested her forehead against the glass door and closed her eyes.

Forty minutes later, Grace shoved her key into the lock of her off-campus apartment.

She pushed the door open. The overpowering, sugary scent of a Starbucks caramel macchiato hit her instantly. Her roommate, Erika, was curled up on the living room sofa, painting her toenails a bright, obnoxious pink.

Erika looked up. She saw the pale, exhausted look on Grace's face. She immediately capped the polish, slid her feet into fluffy slippers, and trotted over. She held out a warm paper cup.

"Honey, you look absolutely awful," Erika said. Her voice dripped with exaggerated sympathy, but a sharp, probing light flickered in her eyes.

Grace took the cup. She forced the corners of her mouth up into a weak smile.

"I'm fine. Just had to deal with some boring paperwork."

Erika looped her arm through Grace's and pulled her toward the sofa. She leaned in close, dropping her voice into a conspiratorial whisper.

"Did Adelbert give you that look again? Was he being a jerk?"

At the sound of his name, Grace's fingers violently contracted. The cardboard cup buckled under her grip. Hot coffee splashed over the plastic lid and burned the back of her hand.

Erika gasped and grabbed a napkin, dabbing at Grace's skin. But her mouth didn't stop moving.

"I'm telling you, Grace. A playboy like him doesn't deserve you anyway. You're too good for his drama."

Grace didn't reply. Her bones ached with exhaustion. She didn't have the energy to navigate Erika's toxic probing. She muttered a quick excuse about a headache, stood up, and walked straight to her bedroom.

She shut the door. She dropped her bag onto the rug and let her body collapse onto the soft mattress. She stared blankly at the white ceiling.

The silence in the room was deafening. It was suffocating. She needed noise. She needed something to drown out the memory of Adelbert's voice in that elevator.

She rolled over and grabbed her MacBook from the nightstand. She flipped it open and clicked the purple Twitch icon sitting on her bookmark bar.

The homepage loaded. A massive banner dominated the screen. It was a stream with over a million active viewers. The title read: Legend - PUBG NA Solo Rank Push.

Grace clicked into the stream. There was no face cam. Just a sleek, black mask logo in the corner of the screen. The audio was filled with the chaotic, deafening sounds of digital gunfire.

Then, a voice came through her speakers.

"Two behind the tree on the left. One by the rock on the right. Don't panic."

It was Legend. His voice was incredibly deep, calm, and laced with a magnetic authority.

The sound of his voice acted like a physical balm on Grace's frayed nerves. Her heart rate slowed down. She pulled the laptop closer, her eyes glued to the crosshairs on the screen.

Legend's character moved through the digital crossfire like a ghost. He snapped his Kar98k sniper rifle up. Bang. Headshot. Bang. Headshot. He cleared the entire battlefield with terrifying, fluid precision.

The golden letters flashed across the screen: Winner Winner Chicken Dinner.

The chat box exploded into a blur of text, thousands of people worshipping the god of the server.

Grace stared at those golden words. A sudden, violent urge clawed at her chest. She wanted that. She wanted to be in a world where she had total control. Where she could pull a trigger and make her problems disappear.

She exited full screen. She opened the Steam application. She typed four letters into the search bar: PUBG.

The price tag read $29.99. She didn't even blink. She linked her credit card and clicked purchase.

The blue download bar started to crawl across the screen. Grace stared at it, a dark, stubborn fire igniting in her eyes.

Outside her door, Erika let out a loud, fake laugh while talking on the phone. Grace grabbed her noise-canceling headphones and clamped them over her ears, completely shutting out the hypocrisy of the real world.

She opened the notes app on her phone and started typing: PUBG beginner guide. Her thumbs flew across the glass.

A sharp chime rang through her headphones. The Steam download was complete.

Grace moved her mouse. She hovered over the bright green PLAY button.