Trapped By The Possessive Esports God

Kaylee pushed the heavy mechanical keyboard away. Her fingers were trembling so hard they barely cleared the keys. She let out a long, shaky breath and hit the button to end her Twitch stream. She stared at the dark OBS software screen on her monitor. The words she had just spoken on the live broadcast echoed in her head. She slapped her palm against her forehead, the smack loud in the quiet room. A sharp cramp in her stomach interrupted her self-hatred. It was a physical demand for food. She grabbed her phone from the desk and opened the DoorDash app. Her thumb moved quickly over the screen. She ordered a massive portion of Mexican tacos. She needed the grease and the heavy calories to calm her racing heart. The order confirmation popped up on the screen. The estimated delivery time was twenty minutes. She tossed the phone back onto the desk. Kaylee pushed herself up from the computer chair. Her legs felt like lead. She dragged her feet across the room, leaving the computer den and walking out into the living room. She let her body fall heavily into the soft fabric sofa. She grabbed a throw pillow and hugged it tightly against her chest. The wall clock ticked. The living room was so quiet she could hear the faint sound of a car engine passing on the street below. A sharp ding-dong from the doorbell shattered the dead silence. Kaylee frowned and glanced at her phone. It had only been ten minutes since she placed the order. There was no way the delivery guy was that fast. She stood up, still clutching the pillow. Her bare feet padded softly against the hardwood floor as she walked slowly toward the front door of the apartment. She leaned in and pressed her eye against the peephole. The motion sensor light in the hallway was dim. She could only make out a tall, dark figure wearing a baseball cap. She hesitated, her hand hovering over the deadbolt. The memory of old, vicious threats made her skin crawl, a phantom chill creeping up her arms. Annoyed and cautious, she decided to get it over with. She turned the lock slowly and pulled the door open only a few inches, keeping her foot firmly braced against the bottom edge just in case. A gust of cold hallway air hit her face. The man outside lifted his head and reached up to pull off the black baseball cap. The moment she saw his face, Kaylee's pupils shrank. Her lie about Killer—the name she had just dropped on stream—hit her like a freight train. Did he know? Had he seen the clip? The questions ricocheted around her skull, each one a needle of pure panic. She had no idea what he knew, and the uncertainty was almost worse than certainty. And beyond the fear of exposure, there was him—Killer, the esports god, the legend, standing in her doorway. Her heart slammed against her ribs, and a cold sweat broke out across her forehead. Her immediate instinct was to slam the door shut. A large hand with prominent knuckles clamped onto the doorframe. The force was absolute. It stopped the door from closing. Greyson Matthews stood there. A gentle, harmless smile touched the corners of his mouth. His deep blue eyes looked directly into hers. Kaylee's brain completely shut down. The man standing in front of her was Killer, the god of esports. He was the exact same man she had claimed was actively pursuing her on her live stream just ten minutes ago. Greyson pulled a silver Rimowa suitcase forward. The wheels made a dull thud against the hallway carpet. "Hi," he said. His voice was incredibly polite, laced with a hint of apology. "I'm the new roommate. Leo sent me." Kaylee stammered, her jaw working before words came out. "I... I never agreed to rent out the guest room." Greyson reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a neatly folded rental agreement and held it out to her. Leo's messy signature was right there at the bottom. Kaylee stared at the paper. She ground her teeth together so hard her jaw ached. She yanked her phone from her pocket and dialed her brother's number. The call went straight to voicemail. Leo had turned his phone off to hide from her anger. Greyson lowered his eyelashes. His voice dropped, sounding slightly raspy. "I have nowhere else to go. A stalker fan found my address. They've been following me." He looked like a lost golden retriever. That expression instantly crushed the hard wall Kaylee was trying to build to kick him out. A neighbor walked down the hallway, stretching their neck to look at them. Greyson took a step forward, his large frame closing the distance between them. Kaylee felt the panic of being watched. She stepped aside, yielding the space. Greyson dragged his suitcase over the threshold. As he brushed past her, the crisp scent of his body wash hit her nose. Her spine went completely rigid. The heavy front door clicked shut. Kaylee stood in her own entryway, staring at the esports god in her living room, feeling the absolute malice of fate. He hadn't mentioned the stream. Not a single word. Maybe—just maybe—he hadn't seen it. She clung to that fragile, desperate hope, pressing her back against the wall as if she could disappear into it.