fic: Be My Player Two [2/4]

[bonnefois]

Title: Be My Player Two (chapter 2/4)
Series: TF2
Character/Pairing: Scout/Miss Pauling, some mentions of ensemble, mentions of past Administrator/Saxton Hale
Rating: NC-17
Summary: AU. Sophie Pauling, assistant to one of the biggest (and evilest) media moguls in the world is commanded to scope out the new field of Let's Play celebrities. A gamer named Scout69 makes millions by screaming at video games. As she investigates the man behind the channel, she finds herself surprised, and charmed by him and his world beyond anything she's ever known in her workaholic, out of touch with trends life.
Word count: 16536
Author's note: This whole thing came about from this exchange I had concerning Introducing The Steam Link.

Scout's LPer intro theme samples this song (Mild NSFW in picture, tons of bikinis haha)

Longfic_bingo: Crossover: any. The crossover in question is Youtuber LPers, though other than the mention of other people shipping Youtubers and faint mentions of Youtubers that have SOs, that part is gen.

Stephen King really does read at Red Sox games.

For Madie.


The report was all typed up. Her plane for Dubai--the next assignment was already in her inbox waiting--was in five hours. Five hours which she could be catching up on sleep, watching television, or shopping for new pantyhose, given that hers had runs in it.

She didn't need to go back. She told herself again and again as she turned down the now familiar street.

She didn't need to go back; she was going because she wanted to.

There was a giant colorful bouncy castle in his front lawn. She heard a shriek and some laughter. For a moment, she thought about turning back. She'd done a lot of barely legal things, but crashing a child's birthday party--or God forbid, a Make A Wish Foundation time--would be out of the question.

She was just about to turn around, already mentally berating herself for her foolishness--of course he would have plans when she heard someone calling her name.

"Sophie!" Liam waved at the top. In fact, he waved so hard that he tumbled down the side of the side of the bright red bouncy castle. She rushed to the side, he rose up again.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah, it bounces! Though man, you'd make a great nurse, great to wake up to when I crashed on my skateboard," he said.

"You needed more for your thing?" Liam said.

Her mind raced for an explanation. If she admitted that she was back, then she'd have to admit why she was here. And she didn't know which was worse: Admitting it to him or herself.

"Yes, I needed to correct something. I put it into the notes wrong. And I just...needed to do that. But it looks like you're busy. You could text it to me--"

"It's never a bad time for you to come. Even if I was down with the flu and had the worst shits imaginable, I'd still be glad to see you."

She couldn't help but grimace. "Um, thanks?"

"Yeah, any time, even if I'm super hungover, and puking my guts out," Liam said.

"Right...So... it's someone's birthday?

"Nope!"

Her forehead creased in confusion. "Then, it's your birthday?"

"Nah, I'm doin' it because I'm an adult, and that means I can rent one anytime I want. Plus, I'm makin' a video, and I ain't done anythin' like this in ages."

Well, that was certainly one interpretation of adulthood.

"You gotta give it a try. I'll even turn off the camera if you want, though I bet you'd give some real quality screams," Liam said.

Her purple pencil skirt really wasn't going to help. She had a terrible vision of it ripping in two, and he'd have to see that she'd pulled on the worst set of panties she had. It'd been a while since she had enough free time to get to the laundromat, and she was really scraping the bottom of the barrel in terms of underwear. The old granny panties were not the ones she wanted him acquainted with.

"Unfortunately, my clothes would rip into pieces if I jumped in there," she said.

"I don't mind. I mean, I'd censor it out, no problem," Liam said.

"I'd mind. I like this skirt, and I'd prefer not to flash everyone," she said.

"You could borrow some of my shorts," Liam said.

She started to count down on her fingers.

"Countin' down until...?" Liam said.

"Counting down the seconds until you make a dirty joke about me getting into your pants or something," she said.

He broke out laughing. "You are awesome. C'mon, I'm sure we got somethin' you can use."

Despite her better judgment, she followed along down the bizarre turns her life was was taking. Skateboarding, video games, even a bouncy castle. For all she knew, the next chapter in her life would involve unicorns that farted rainbows. That wouldn't be outside of the strangeness of this week.

His room was covered in baseball posters, comic posters, and shots of a music star she recognized as Tom Jones, only because Liam kept dressing up as him on his channel. His bed was unkempt, with red fleece blankets covered with BONK across them almost fallen to the floor.

"You're a billionaire, but you live with your mother?" she said.

"Hey now, I own this place. Was the first thing I did with the whole bunch of money. Moved us right out of the projects and down to a nice big duplex. I talked about gettin' Ma her own house, but I didn't want her to get lonely, so she comes around a lot, and they come visit too. She's jetsettin' around, visitin' Europe and stuff, and my brothers are off watchin' Celtics away games. Besides, it was way too big a place for just me. I don't even know what I'd do with all those rooms. I mean if I had kids and a wife, maybe."

The thought of wanting to spend anymore than the utter minimal amount of time with their family was a completely strange thought to her. Then again, her family had never been close or touchy-feely. Every time she had to review a family sitcom she felt like she was watching some kind of alien world.

Her fingers tensed about her phone, counting down the seconds until he made some marriage joke. But it never came. He was too invested with getting a knot in his laces undone.

"You didn't want to go with your family to Europe?" she said.

He puffed out his cheeks. "She's got some asshole French boyfriend she went with. You have any idea how awkward it is to come home catch your Ma neckin' with some guy on the couch?"

"Oh, wow, that'd be...something."

"Yeah, I lost about ten years of my life. He'd frickin' gotten to second base." Liam shuddered. "Made me wish I could wipe memories like I wipe game data."

He rustled around in the closet, and pulled out something from the built-in shelves. From this angle, she could see a nightmare's worth of neon swag shirts and baseball T's.

"Here, try my lucky shorts."

He tossed a pair of red gym shorts her way. They landed on her chest, and she just barely caught them in an awkward grab.

"Wait...lucky shorts means--you washed these, right?"

Liam chuckled. "Ma never let me have the kind of luck that didn't involve washin'. She'd go and say 'and they'll be twice as lucky if you let me put 'em in the wash. And so will you. No girls are goin' to want you when you smell like that.' Needless to say, I took lots of showers after that, and made sure my clothes always got into the wash."

"Smart lady," Sophie said.

"The smartest! Maybe the luck will rub off on you, and you'll get lucky too," Liam said.

She flipped them over, and saw Are You Nasty? printed in white on the back.

She held them up. "Really, Liam?"

"Hey, it started as a dare, then it became a way of life. I got multiples, because you never know when you're going to need some nastification and your shorts are in the wash."

"Nastification---do I even want to know? I probably don't."

"You don't watch that? 'I did the Nasty in the Pasty?' Does it ring any bell for you? How about 'bite my shiny metal ass?'"

She shrugged. "Wouldn't know, I haven't watched anything but news and stock prices on television for years."

"Years? Holy shit, I gotta change that. Any chance you can convince your boss you're doin' important work while we do the Netflix marathon to end all Netflix marathons?"

"I mean, theoretically we could. But you'd ruin it by taking fifty selfies and blowing our cover," she said.

"Damn, selfies, my one weakness."

"And Chilli dogs," she said.

Liam's face lit up. "You saw the video!"

"I had to watch your videos for research, remember?"

Liam couldn't contain himself. He leapt from foot to foot, bouncing with excitement. "Which ones did you see, which one did you see?"

"That one game with your doctor, with the heart--and a bunch of others. I'd have to look through my history. There were so many--"

Which was an easier than saying she had a private playlist, many which featured him in tight shorts and often shirtless.

"You got some videos on my exercise channel you gotta see. Shirtless Exercisin': The Nastification was one of the best ones. I got millions of views. I even had some cheap-ass magazine suggest using it in a bachlorette party to save money. Think it was called Cheap-ass Brides or somethin'. It got to be a trend! My ass was friggin' legendary. Still is."

"That's--" She cleared her throat. Him being a bachelotte party sensation was both very unsurprising, and left her fighting to keep her smile from turning into a grimace.

"That's awesome," Liam said. "Speakin' of awesome--We could match," Liam said. He grinned as he turned around so he could see the tight contours of the fabric across his ass.

Her mind was screaming this is the matching sweaters, this is the girlfriend shirt and borrowing his coat. This is the relationship clothes.

But she shook it off. He was just being his usual self. It didn't mean anything, except how obvious he had made it that he'd get into her pants if she was interested.

(And the more she tried to deny it, the more her body made her very clear that she was quite interested. What a traitorous heart she had--and other body parts.)

"Fine, I'll get changed."

She stepped into the bathroom, with the shorts tucked just under her right arm. But all she could do was gape. Unlike the vintage aesthetics of below, the bathroom, was like entering another house entirely. The blue tiles shone, and a number of soft white rugs were laid in key places. The shower was some kind of modern work of art, with multiple streams, a bench, and what she was pretty sure had to be a vibrating showerhead--though she'd have to check to know for sure.

And if that wasn't enough, there was a tub which she was sure Liam would describe as big-ass. She bent down for a better look. It was filled with spa jets, and big enough to seat at least two people comfortably.

It was like something out of a fairytale, or a porno. Either way, this shower wasn't just for looks, or utility. This was a shower made for fucking.

She just knew he had to have a heart-shaped vibrating bed stashed somewhere.

She got changed, and went back into the hall. Liam gave her two thumbs up.

"Spin for me. Walk, walk, fashion baby!"

"I'd look ridiculous," she said.

"That's the point. Bein' silly is fun. Lettin' it all go is healthy."

She stiffly turned, and stopped midway. It was all too embarassing. "See? It doesn't work for me," she said.

He spun, both to show off, and presumably, as an instruction.

"Maybe you just need some rad jams."

"If you start playing Vanilla Ice, I'm changing back," she said.

"Please! I'm all about Tom Jones. Though Queen and Steppenwolf are real close too. Oh, and make sure you get some stretchin' down before you go jumpin'. Otherwise, you might hurt your hams," Liam said.

She followed his instruction. Though really, she would've been just as content just to watch his muscles move in those tiny shorts with the obscene message printed across the back.

She stared out at the bouncy castle. Suddenly, there seemed so many reasons why to not. She could hurt herself, she'd make a fool of herself, this wasn't her at all. She didn't bounce around like a child. At least, she hadn't until she met Liam.

"Don't worry, I got my doctor on speed dial," Liam said.

"The same one you played that Surgeon game with?" she said.

"The one and only! He says if I break my lung, he'll replace it with some spare lungs he got. They fell off a truck," Liam said.

Sophie looked down with alarm. The doctor smiled, and all she could think of how much better her life was before she learned that the urban legend of organ stealing doctors was entirely true.

She walked fast, in order to outrun the reason which was bound to catch up eventually. Liam went faster--it seemed his only speed setting. He climbed up the bouncy castle, and went flying. He disappeared past her vision, until he popped back up. She crawled up those last steps. The camera was held up by the most precariously placed tripod she'd ever seen. There was at least a fifty perfect chance it would flip off and be destroyed, and all this footage destroyed.

Liam did a perfect backflip. The second belly flopped, but he broke out laughing, and rolled over.

"Much better than the time I tried that on the ground, and thought I broke my neck."

Sophie looked alarmed. "Liam??"

"I was fine! I just was sore for a while. Totally landed the wrong way. Ma was about ready to kill me, though..."

"Of course she was, what are you thinking doing something like that? You could've gotten killed."

"Oh, doin' dangerous stupid shit is my specialty. Just ask my Ma. Skatboardin' ain't nothin' compared to the time I tried Parkour."

"Why don't you keep the dangerous stuff to your games?" she said with surprising vehemence. The week before, she didn't even know him. Now, she was having reactions on whether he lived or died.

"I'll promise to try and do my flippin' on somewhere bouncy, like a bed. Wouldn't wanna make you sad." He winked, before doing a truly admirable flip. He disappeared down the chute. Only the echo of his cheers reached her.

"Whoohoo! Oh man, c'mon, Sophiiee! Take a chance, it's great!"

Sophie stood poised just at the edge. Arms out, her mind was filled with every reason why this was ridiculous, this was a bad idea. But as he grinned up at her, she took the leap. The first landing displaced her glasses, but there was something she'd lost, a childlike wonder. Each bounce felt like it was shaking something loose deep inside her. The laughter, the giddy rising came almost as a surprise.

He leapt up, just to show off how he could touch his toes in mid-air. She couldn't help but laugh at it all. It was ridiculous, childish and--wonderful.

He crashed hard, enough to knock her off your feet.

She was flat on her back staring up at the quivering mesh and blown up ceiling.

She blinked up the ceiling, fully aware of the feeling of giddiness rising within her.

So you aren't an ice-hearted robot after all, Sophie. So you can feel.

"Sophie! Soph--you all right? I meant to sweep you off your feet, but not like this!"

"That was so much fun!" She burst out. "Can we do it again?"

"Of course!" He laughed. "You looked like the breath was knocked right out of you. I thought I might have to do CPR."

"You wish," she said.

"Hey, I had a whole year of lifeguard trainin'," Liam said.

"Let me guess, you were notorious for giving the kind of CPR that had tongue? French CPR?"

Liam broke out laughing. "I am so glad I got this on camera. You--you're perfect! Look at you, those lines. We'll get millions of hits. We could go be vine stars like that."

"Vine? Like Tarzan and Jane?" she said.

"Me Tarzan, you Jane," Liam said. He held out his hand. "C'mon, Janie, we gotta go sailin' through this jungle. You wanna do it again?"

"God, yes," she said.

"Mmmmhmm! That's just what I want to hear."

She took a jump and was flying, floating through the air. In those seconds she could see brickwork and children laughing down the street. Chalk and jump ropes, and the far scent of salt from the docks. Her bun had come undone, and dark hair kept falling into her face, and down her shoulders.

"What, you're looking at me again. Do I meet your standard of 'nastiness'?" she said.

"Oh, Sophie, you're just right."

She laughed. "I don't know if that's a compliment or not in these shorts."

"Oh trust me. When it's you, it's always a compliment."

He smiled, and it was this piece of everything she'd pushed away deep inside herself. Like hope, like the joy she'd forgotten how to feel, like life.

"Hey, let's try jumpin' together!" Liam burst out.

"This could be a disaster," she said. Her glasses could get broken. Her heart could get broken.

"Maybe, but it'll sure be fun, and we probably won't even land in the hospital."

She took his hand, and he didn't let go as he led her up, with so much eagerness that he couldn't keep still. That was one thing she couldn't quite get. Out of all that had happened to him, he'd never grown cynical. He'd been through prison and poverty and come out none the more jaded.

"You ready for this? On the count of three--One--two--three!"

They fell through the air, his fingers between hers. The cliche was it felt slow, but to her, it was all so fast. Just a week ago this would be unthinkable. Just a week ago she'd forgotten how to smile. The crash didn't split them apart, but they fell down together. Sophie's glasses slid off her face, to land in her lap.

He gently put them back on her face, and pushed her hair behind her ears. His thumb grazed her cheek. The human warmth felt searing against her skin. She leaned into it, into him. "Look, not even a crack. I'd say that's pretty good."

"You were right, it was fun," she said, waiting for the 'I told you so.'

"You think that's fun now, but it's goin' to be even better when the video goes live, then billions of other people can have just as much fun. Honestly, it's so good I wanna just put the whole thing on. Maybe cut down the wind sound a bit in editor. As much as I can, anyways."

"So, you had some interview thing for me?"

"Oh, that--Um, I came in person to let you know it's progressing well. Not quite done, but by the time you hear from me next, it'll be me sending a contract your way."

He beamed. "Aww, I knew you'd be a tiger in the boardroom. Probably a tiger in other places too..." he chuckled. "Thanks for fightin' for me. It means a lot to know you're in my corner!"

"It's just my job," she said.

"Nah, you've gone above and beyond. Look at all this hard-workin' stuff. You'll be the Queen of the business stuff soon." He gave her a thumbs up. "I know; I'm the undisputed King of Youtube. I can spot royalty a mile away."

She couldn't help but smile. "With any luck, you'll be right."

*

He sent her the video that night. She barely recognized herself. So many smiles, a flushed face, undone hair and all this wild abandon. She hadn't laughed that much in years.

Skating, playing video games, and now jumping on a bouncy castle. She hadn't expected this, she hadn't expected him. But, he wasn't about to get out of her life anytime soon, with the deal upcoming. All she could do was go along for the ride.

She smiled to herself, and saved the video on a private playlist she'd made just for her own private viewing. All of him. And in the case of these videos, it had everything to do with that little flutter, like a butterfly caught inside her. It'd start in her stomach and float up between her ribs, to beat within her chest.

Laid out on her bed, with her phone held up to watch a series of Youtube videos, she felt younger, somehow. Like a first crush, the first taste of love, there was something raw and new in every meeting.

And as much as she told herself that this couldn't go on, really, even if there was nothing, it had to stop, the more something in her rebelled.

She pressed the like button before she set her phone aside. She'd thought about leaving a comment, but her mind was too full of the memories of earlier that day. That giddiness, bouncing high enough to see the streets, and landing down beside him. All the laughter she'd forgotten. Like unfiltered sunlight that had spilled into her life, with just one job assignment.

It wasn't something she could just filter into a few words.

*

It took over sixteen hours of negotiating, though for once, they weren’t consecutive. But after all her work, all this was finally here.

Sophie practically felt like skipping when she got out of the Administrator's office. She'd finally made it. Her own huge breakout case which could net both of them on the verge of making every list known to man. Fortune would be crushed under her boot heel soon enough, and that top spot not just a list, but the list would be finally hers.

Her fingers itched to have it checked off. It'd been a while since her life plan had gotten any marks.

She couldn't keep still as she dialed his number. She bounced on her heels, her shoes kicked off under the desk.

"Yo!"

"Liam, I have great news," Sophie said.

"Seriously? Already got great news, you called me."

"I mean really great news--"

"Hearin' from you really great news to me," Liam said.

"Liam, I'm trying to talk business here," Sophie said.

"Lay it on me."

"The deal is on," Sophie said.

"What? That's amazin'! You want to go to Fenway with me to celebrate?"

"What?"

"You do know what celebratin' is, right? You know, when people--get this--stop workin', and take a break--"

"Yes, I know what a celebration is. But this is Boston; Fenway's bound to be sold out," she said.

"Oh hey, but what could this be?" Liam said. She suddenly got a notification from one of his followed social media accounts.

"Just a second, I have to check this." She ended the call, and opened up the image. In it, Liam held two tickets to his chest. The photo was just high enough to see him wink at the camera.

She received a text from him moments later. silly me! how could I forget that I had a second ticket? Close enough to feel the guys sweatin on us

Was that even a good thing? She had a feeling it was supposed to be, but it hardly sounded appealing. As she tapped her thumb on the bottom of her phone, a sudden realization came to her.

You had this all planned, she typed back.

maaaybe.

Except you probably had it planned for whatever woman was handy from your book.

Good Lord, even in text form, she sounded dreadfully bitter. But she'd already sent it, so she couldn't just take it back. Besides, she wasn't the 'just kidding!' sort.

hey, we ain't exclusive. we aint even datin i dont think. u wanna be jealous, u gotta step up to the plate and be my gf

She blushed bright, her fingers trembled as she typed out the next message. It took her several tries, of stutter-stop words, deleted as soon as she typed them down. The waiting ellipses was almost ominous.

Her heart hammered in her chest. All she would have to do was say yes and there could be more. More 'business meetings' that spiral off into some wild journey, more laughter and happiness, and kisses, so many kisses.

But a thought cut through all those silly daydreams. This case could make or break me. All it would take was one mishandling of a case due to a messy breakup to ruin the whole deal she'd worked so hard for.

This is work related.

the last times were work related too and we had a blast. or do u go skateboardin with all ur clients?

She had to catch her breath. The rush in her system, the first feeling of being alive in seemingly years was back.

She kept typing words, only to quickly delete them. I can't. I have work. This isn't technically against the rules, but it could get complicated. I have work. I have work. I always have work. I have nothing but work. I literally have nothing but work and meeting you was the highlight of my year. I don't even like sports and yet I'd love to go spend these hours with you.

Finally, she typed out what time?

Before the day was out, Liam had posted a Got Fenway tickets and am goin' with someone real cute!happy dance, which mostly consisted of him waggling his butt in front of the camera.

*

Technically, she'd never been to a baseball game, or even watched one. But she was pretty sure she'd stick out in a purple pencil skirt and blouse. Even worse, she might be overdressed, and get all sweaty.

She had to push aside the usual business wear and go into deep, untouched territory. So it was that she took to her closet for that long forgotten art: finding something to wear while out with someone.

God, the date dresses. She hadn't seen these since college. She lifted up a black cocktail dress. Too dressy, and she might ruin it. She threw it aside on the bed and pulled out a bedazzled jean skirt with matching jacket. How had this happened? She had a hazy memory of a college dare. Ah, yes, that was it. Business majors could have wild sides. A friend had called her a square, and she'd rocked that eighties party for all of a half hour before she went back to studying.

She hadn't even stayed to hear the results of the costume awards. Just proving everyone wrong was enough for her.

She tossed that aside on her dark, flecked with gold bedspread. She was torn with whether to throw it away entirely, or send it to some of those good will places. She tapped her toes as she thought. Ah, she could itemize these on her next tax return. One day when she had a spare moment, she'd have to clean out her closet.

She laughed to herself. Her, having a a spare moment! That was the funniest joke she'd heard all year.

She dug in deeper. A dread was growing that she would have to give in and actually go shopping. How she would fit that in the short time, she had no idea. But like hell was she putting on that jean skirt, even if Liam would love it.

At the very back of her closet, she gripped something distinctly polka-dotted. She pulled it out and held it against her chest. It was a V-neck polka-dot number that came just above her knees, also purple, because even then she was dressing to be a part of the Administrator's team. It danced on a edge just between casual and dressy.

She slipped on the dress, and turned around to check for broken zippers, or other potential disasters that Liam would enjoy too much. With some pleasure, she found that despite her many poor choices, most of them related to alcohol, she still fit in something she'd bought years ago. At least her habit of forgetting to eat seemed to counteract with the liquid lunch--and dinners, and breakfasts--she'd been taking lately. To say nothing of the liquid comfort sipped in-between.

And no wonder it was still so pristine. She'd only worn it once to date a cute pre-med. They'd both left early from the date to go back to studying. After that, they'd been too busy to really get back in touch, and the dress had been gathering dust at the back of her closet ever since.

Sophie always bought classics. Trends came and went, but a Chanel suit could last forever. If it got old enough, it'd just be vintage fashion, and she'd be praised for her choices.

She left her dark hair long, as opposed to pulling it up into her usual bun. She checked the mirror three times before she grabbed her keys.

"Remember, this isn't a date," she told her reflection.

The date dress sure said otherwise.

She showed up at his house fifteen minutes early, because Sophie was nothing if not punctual. He sat on the stoop, a whole new set of pornographic chalk drawings all over the walk up. He brushed the chalk dust from his hands on his pants, uncaring about the mess of colors now over his thighs. He'd pulled on a Red Sox shirt, cap, and even his jeans had a patch with the logo stitched over a former tear about the side of his thigh.

She wouldn't be surprised if he even had on some Red Sox boxers underneath. She cleared her throat and tried to get her mind out of his pants. Not that she'd spent a ton of time thinking about his underwear. Not even after she'd spent a great deal of time recently researching his exercise channel, where he wore exercise shorts so tight they looked painted on, and seemed to be trying to see just how pornographic he could make his workouts without Youtube banning him.

Liam lifted his eyebrows, and gave her a thorough once-over. He let out a low whistle.

"Niiice. You got to all of your business meetings like this?"

"I can't run from the cops in a pencil skirt," she said flippantly.

"Good answer. I'll know who to call when I need somebody to hide the bodies. You need directions?" Liam said.

"No, I fully intend to push my data plan to its limit. I certainly pay enough for it," she said. She idly inputted a Mapquest inquiry, while he started for her car.

"Yo, you gotta unlock it if we're goin' to go," Liam said.

"You want me to drive? I thought we were taking yours?"

"Why wouldn't you?" Liam said.

Well, that was a strike in his favor. Many men she knew couldn't stand to take directions, let alone let a woman drive. But he slid into the passenger's seat without a single complaint.

Liam inspected her car with deep interest and curiosity. He pushed out a CD, an audiobook on productivity she was halfway through.

"Pretty nice ride you got here," he said.

"Thank you. It's pretty suited to my needs." She glanced at her rear view mirror as she pulled out.

Many of her other businessmen (and women) opted for Mercedes, but personally she kept a classy hybrid for its sensible gas mileage. Of course, she'd more than made up for it with enough luxuries to make her transit seem like some kind of spa. Heated seats, a sound system entirely too powerful, considering she never had anything but NPR and audiobooks on business, and even a built-in back massager for after long days.

"You know, I used to have a Vespa in college," she said.

"Seriously? I can't even imagine it."

"It's one-hundred percent true. I have pictures for proof, but not on me. I'll have to dig them out of storage somewhere."

"Dude, I have got to see this. That sounds amazin'! I seriously can't wait."

"Hey, here's our turn," Liam said.

After parking, and turning in their tickets, she walked down the stands. Even as early as they were, the rows of fold up seats were already quite full. She slipped her purse into her lap, as he toyed with his phone.

Mentally, she chastised herself. She'd meant to look up baseball so she'd be able to at least marginally understand the game. However, she'd had to stay late at work closing out the deal, and it had fallen through the cracks. She needn't have worried. Liam was always willing to go on at length about baseball, and was ever ready to go on about anything.

"So, this is really your first game? "You could call yourself a baseball virgin, huh?"

"I wouldn't use those terms, but yes. I've never really had much time for sports," she said.

Never never? Not even like, t-ball?"

"I was part of the spelling B and Mathletes in middle school. Then I moved to the debate team and student council," she said.

"That's the nerdiest thing I've ever heard you say, and that's sayin' somethin'. I bet little you got shoved in a ton of lockers."

His smile turned to a sudden grimace. He balled his fist. "Man, if I had a time machine, I'd kick their ass for that."

She laughed. "Such divides don't exist in private schools. Of course, there were girls richer than I, but I ignored their pissing contests and stayed in the library studying most of the day. Nobody shoved me anywhere, honest. Thanks for the sentiment, though."

"Anytime," Liam said.

"So, anyways, that's the ref and they suck. They're your enemy, and it's all about bases, but not the sexy bases, though plenty people have gotten home runs down behind the bleachers."

She nodded. Sophie almost felt like she should be taking notes for this. He motioned his hands as he animatedly talked. He was so fast, and shifted into such different metaphors that she had difficulty keeping up. She held up her hand, and pulled up her phone.

"What, got a text from the big boss?" Liam said.

"No, I'm just trying to keep up. I figured you were going to be a test later," she said.

He burst out laughing. "A test later? God, that's a good one. Anyways, if you want snacks? I'm starvin'. You want somethin' at the stands? We've got your hot dogs, peanuts, some popcorn, plenty of soda. There's more franks and coke at the front. I'll make the leap and get 'em for you, so you don't have to get up. Just one of the many services I offer."

"You mean the cola variety, right?" she said.

Liam laughed. "Yeah, of course. Though if you wanted a real jolt, you'd have to go back in time. They don't stock 'em anymore. See, I used to drink these things called BONK. They were these energy drinks which actually got banned for bein' dangerous. I had to go to the hospital and everythin'.I swear I saw the past and the future all at once, and time slowed as I ran."

"Damn," she said.

"It was amazin', but also if I ever went back to that place, the pink shadow things would kill me."

She could only nod. In her more sleep deprived moments pulling all-nighters, she'd certainly had moments which bent the line between reality.

" Anyways, I got a whole settlement out of it. That was how I started really puttin' it all into this Youtube thing. The old videos looked like they were recorded with a tin can, but my 69ers still stuck with me back then when I was a little less awesome. I always feel a bit of pride when somebody likes them years later. I hope I meet every single 69er. Even the assholes, because maybe I can set 'em right."

Really, there was a whole case study in his 69ers, and the way they'd stuck with him through horrible games, awful footage, and the hot dog suit chronicles.

Though she suspected that many of them stayed for the spandex shorts.

"I'm off to beat the rush. You got anythin' you want?"

"Um, surprise me. Give me the 'authentic park' experience," she said.

He tipped his cap to her. "I'd be honored, my lady."

"I know you're trying for knight or something, but all you're achieving is reddit right now," she said.

He laughed. "That's one hell of a burn. I gotta remember that one."

"Just one of the many services I offer," she said dryly.

He rushed up the stands. He returned with a pair of ballpark franks smothered in ketchup and mustard, and two large pops, as well as some popcorn under his arm, and peanuts sticking out of his pocket.

"I would've gotten some cotton candy, but there were some kids in front of me, and they cleaned the guy right out," he said.

"Wow, thank you--you really brought a lot."

"You think that's somethin'? I'm goin' back for more. I just didn't want to drop anythin'," Liam said. He handed over the rest of his haul to balance in her lap, next to her purse.

He rushed back up the stairs again before she could protest.

She took a sip of soda. Well, this was her genuine baseball experience. So far, the best part was the jeans he wore.

Still, it was a memory worth keeping, which was more than she could say about most of the meeting she'd been to.

*

After an hour or so, she was still somewhat lost. Even with his explanations, she didn't quite get the point of the game. Yes, there was a ball, but what was the inherent joy of watching a bunch of men chase a ball around? Then again, to her, sports were only useful for potential deals, and potential athletes in tight pants or cute cheerleaders to notice.

Still, the enthusiasm was infectious.

He nudged her with his elbow. "See, over there? Stephen King gets his readin' done at Red Sox games. You wanna meet him?"

She peered down the stands, but couldn't quite catch sight of anything but many enthusiastic baseball fans. None of them screamed 'famous novelist' to her.

"The horror writer? I never have time to read novels. But, it's nice to know. I can't imagine reading anything here, with all the noise."

She mentally wondered if she should've networked. But, between the roars of a cheer and boos, and the thought was set aside. Maybe another game.

The hitter at the plate had struck out once.

"Come on, strike his ass out!" He clapped as the players went through some kind of preparatory, chalk on the hands thing.

Liam dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone. "Selfie time," Liam said. He held up his phone at an angle, and winked at the screen.

"That's the twentieth selfie you've taken in the past thirty minutes," she said.

"You wanna get in one with me? I'll even let you sign a bicep if you want," Liam said.

"I posed with the last three," she said.

If you could call staring blankly at the screen while he made duck faces at the camera 'posing.' To be fair she rolled her eyes once, too.

"Never too many selfies," Liam said.

"Ah---fine. I guess it won't hurt anything." She leaned in. She half expected him to put his arm about her, in a sense of of course, Liam, only you, except he was too busy making a peace sign.

And through it all, she felt disappointment--disappointment!--that he hadn't gone the coupley route. At this rate, she didn't even understand her mind process, or the divide of no this is unprofessional, no this isn't a date, but damn I want it to be.

One side of the stadium was cheering, the rest hurling some of the vilest insults she'd ever heard.

"Strike! Strike! Strike!"

Amid all the chaos, she was one of the few silent.

"Come on, join in the fun," Liam said.

"In hurling insults in public places?"

"Hell yeah. That's the real reason people go to the games. It ain't just about the players or supportin' the team."

"What, to scream?" she said.

"Oh yeah! You just gotta let it all out. All that pent up rage, the bullshit guy who cut you off. People come to scream as much as they come to watch the game. Don't believe me? Just look at Europe and Canada. They go frickin' apeshit over their games. Like detroyin' buildin's and shit."

"So... it's like screaming at video games?" Sophie said.

Liam broke into a grin. "Oh, screamin' at sports definitely came first. People have been screamin' at sports since cavemen were tossin' rocks around. Probably tellin' the refs for makin' a shitty call."

"So...unga bunga..." she said.

"Funga the refunga," Liam said.

"You try it," Liam said.

"Oh, that's---Maybe next time," she said.

But the strike didn't come. It all came so fast, so many people ran across the green field that she could barely keep track of which man to follow with her gaze.

A groan rose up, and the insults took an even darker turn, as the hitter was declared safe at second base. Or at least, she thought he was. It was kind of hard to tell amid all the screaming.

He cupped his hands over his mouth. "Hey ref, the middle of a game is no place to be takin' a frickin' nap! Somebody get this guy some glasses, because this ref couldn't fuckin' see that play!"

Her boss screaming at her over the phone, the thought of how sometimes she wanted to bury those smug douchebags in IT under a bridge, and those catty workers in a lower cubicle who called her a suck up behind her back. She'd taken great pleasure in firing them all, one by one. That little room, the firing squad, the execution room.

She balled her fists. And oh, that person who had cut her off this morning, and almost made her late. The people who walked so damn slowly in front of her, as if they had all day to just leisurely go through that stop and shop.

"Fuck the hell off, you misshapen zebra! Hell, a zebra would make better plays than you by--taking a dump on the field! I---wouldn't trust you to ref a t-ball game!"

She barely even knew what the ref had done wrong, but just screaming and letting all the tension and rage out was a deep, addictive feeling.

He clapped her on the back. "Good one! I knew you had it in you!"

"Also, you other team, you suck!"

"A girl that hates the Yankees; a girl after my own heart," Liam said. He put his hand to his chest and pretended to swoon.

"I'm pretty sure your heart is a bit lower down," she said.

"Ouch, that's a great burn. A shame I didn't get it on camera so I can rewind it and hear that sick burn again and again. Oh, wait! I did."

He pulled out his phone.

Sophie frowned. "You were recording our conversations?"

"Nah, I was gearing up for a mini-vlog, but I got distracted," Liam said. He brushed his hat back and smiled at the camera for another selfie. "You want on this one? I could snap it with 'I just got burned!'"

"The last selfie was less than two minutes ago," she said.

"As far as I'm concerned, that's two minutes too long without a selfie," he said. "C'mon, it's time for another livetweet update about the game."

"God forbid your fans not know what kind of baseball frank you had at the game," she said.

"They'd be totally devastated," he said. He pulled her close, and snapped a photo. Her pulse surged at his touch.

Just as she was about to say something, a cheer rose up.

"Wooohoo, take that! The Yankees are gonna be toast! I knew you were gonna be good luck from the minute I saw you at the steps, admirin' the chalk art I did."

"I should've guessed you were the one to do the obscene art the first time I came to your house," she said.

"Hey, I was doin' a video. Dickbutt On The Streets." He made a square with his fingers. "Just because it ain't displayed in some fancy museum don't mean it ain't art for the ages."

"The ages of 13, you mean," she said.

"Oooh, nice one!" He geared up for another selfie. By now, she just went along with it, as another cheer rose up down on the field.

This time the selfie was captioned with she's goin to bring us a victory, I know it. She's my lucky girl.

*

"Yeah, I'm so glad my team pulled through! Even if we don't take the pennant, at least we beat the fuckin' Yankees."

From behind him, a cry of fuck the Yankees! rose up.

"Yeah, fuck 'em!"

"I bet if you yelled that in a crowd anywhere in this city, you'd get dozens of responses," she said.

"Damn straight you would," Liam said.

"So, is this the last thing? Think you got enough of me?"

Sophie's jaw twitched. "What, am I keeping you from all the other girls you could be screwing around with?"

"Nah, you just said this was wrapped up, and I was wonderin' if you'd be puttin' a microphone in my face anymore."

"I didn't mention it? I thought I did, maybe I got caught up in the excitement. I'm going to be handling your case personally."

"High-five! This is goin' to be a great partnership!"

Even though she had to go on tip-toe, she just reached his hand with her own.

She beamed. "Oh, you haven't even seen the contract. I wrote it myself. Your face could be on billboards. You could be on commercials. You'll have to have a lawyer look through before you sign it, of course. Some things can be changed, and we'll pass it back and forth until it's satisfactory for both parties."

"Satisfactory, eh? Nah, I trust you, just hand it over," Liam said.

"No, no, you really should have a lawyer look through it. Actually, you haven't even seen it yet."

She'd been so wrapped up in the game that she hadn't even brought her briefcase over. What the hell was happening with her? Business meetings which kept veering into almost dates, and flagrantly fantasizing about a client.

He leaned in. "Hey, you and me are pretty nice. You ever think about that? Because I do. This business stuff has sure been feelin' like somethin' more."

Her cheeks turned bright red. He was close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath against her neck.

"Are you officially asking me out? I mean, have you seen my schedule? I have one day a year off. I mean, theoretically. I've never actually had it off."

"Man, do you even take breaks? Like time for yourself? You said you were all focusin' it on work, but you at least get your sips and z's, right?" Liam said.

"Um, I do sleep sometimes? And wine is sort of a hobby..."

"See, this is what I don't get. You make all this money, but do you even do anythin' with it? I mean, you look great and all, but I ain't ever seen you in anythin' comfortable. You always look so uncomfortable and tired, but in a hot way."

"Excuse me, you're usually wearing a swag shirt and I know that's from Walmart."

"This ain't about me. With all the flexin' I do on my other channel, stuff rips right off. So I gotta buy cheap, or I'd go broke from ruinin' ten shirts a day," Liam said.

"It's all going to pay off soon. Soon enough I'm going to be more powerful than anyone could even imagine. I just have to put my hours in for a little longer," she said stubbornly.

"How many years you been in this business?" Liam said.

"Oh, let's see..." She counted off on her fingers. With a frown, she noticed that nail on her ring finger had slightly cracked. "Four years, counting the internship that I started when I was still in school."

"Look, I ain't big on this business stuff, but from where it looks like, you're still just doin' grunt work. And I heard you on that phone. Sounded an awful lot like you were gettin' screamed at. You said you were runnin' errands. Ain't that intern stuff?"

She couldn't help but flinch. His assessment of her hit like a whip. Sophie squared her shoulders and looked at him head on, with all the fury her 5'1 frame could muster.

It was damn hard to look imposing when she had to look up to him.

"I work for one of the most powerful women in the industry. I could work anywhere with a simple nod from her. I-I could outweigh presidents in power, national leaders. You can't even fathom the amount of power I'm talking here. I have to give everything I can for a little while. Then I'll have the world at my feet too."

"And yet you're runnin' around like one of those assistants to the stars. The ones who go to the tabloids, and are only known by how much whatever star treated them poorly. What? I get bored in the line sometimes. I swear there's always that one person who takes sixty items into the twenty only line, and those alien baby stories are hilarious--" Liam said.

"That's ridiculous---of course, the Administrator is very harsh--some would even say brutal, but she treats me differently."

"Like how she gives you all the paid vacation days and sick days and free health care? Like how she demands you pick up her dry-cleanin' like some teenage intern? I don't know, it sounds like she's takin' you for one," Liam said.

"I have company health care!"

She just chose not to use it given that after some checking, she found she was limited to the same doctor as his videos.

"Besides, you're a Youtuber who dropped out of school and went to jail! Call me when you have a MBA from Harvard under your belt!"

"Hey, I am The Youtuber. I am the King, with a capital K. Markiplier is my bud, but he ain't dethronin' me anytime soon."

"And I'm a Harvard graduate who works for the most powerful woman in the world. Frankly, you don't know anything about her, or me. So if I want your opinion, I'll ask you. Though I'm sure you'd give it anyways."

Liam held his hands palm up over his chest in a sign of peace. "Whoa, whoa. Didn't mean for things to get testy. Was just tellin' it as I see it," he said.

She took several breaths and tried to count down in her head. Here she was going off on a work contact, how unprofessional. Somehow, he'd managed to get under her skin. Not that going on some quasi-dates, playing video games and that thing at the skate park were any more professional.

"I didn't ask for your input about my life. You're my client, not my therapist. You should be talking to me about things that pertain to the deal, and that's it."

"So all this was just work? What, I was just like any other?"

She swallowed slowly. "That's all."

Liam looked away. "I really thought I felt somethin' for a minute there."

Her head reeled. Suddenly, she felt a wave of nausea. This was why she didn't mix feelings with work. This was why she didn't date. She needed a drink. She needed a dozen drinks until she could forget how a day that started so wonderfully had devolved into this.

I'm just going to go," she said.

"Aight. See you around, I guess. Or you goin' to send someone else to do the deal?" Liam said.

At least he hadn't completely pulled out and run to a competitor.

She clutched her purse tighter to her side. "No. I'm taking on the deal. No matter what," she said.

"Good," Liam said. He tried to smile, but it came out tight at the edges. Which summed just how she felt.

It was only when she was out of the parking lot that she remembered he had rode with her. But, a check of her notifications showed him posing with fans on his walk home. His bright smile made something twist inside her. She was ready to down every bottle in her house, and he didn't even mind in the end. He probably already had some other girl picked out to flirt with.

"God, I'm a mess," she muttered to herself as she drove towards home.

*

She'd been in an alcohol-laden haze for days the fight. It'd all started so wonderfully. A sure-fire contract, with a loyal fanbase already built in. She'd gotten the account all on her own, and knew just how to develop it. The game had been a bit confusing, but she'd had fun.

And now, everything was in pieces.

She hadn't even gotten him to sign the contract. For all she knew, a headhunter had gotten him and now Warner Bros. would be signing him on. She sighed and clutched a pillow to her chest. She'd lost her cool. And even worse, instead of apologizing, she'd stormed off and left him to walk home. If it ever got back to the Administrator that she'd let her temper get the better of her, that she'd been so unprofessional, she'd be fired.

And it'd all been so great until then. She closed her eyes and leaned back.

But she was as restless as ever. It was past midnight; she should be sleeping. She pulled a plaid fleece blanket over her shoulders and turned on the television. Past the late night and re-runs, she settled on the infomercials. More than a few times, she'd boughten them like a tip jar. Every time she came across the snuggie at the back of her closet, she'd break out laughing all over again.

She looked to her side, and there was nothing. No one to point out how stupid this commercial was, no one to laugh with. She pulled the blanket a little closer around her shoulders.

He probably would've loved that. He always loved stupid humor. She wouldn't be surprised if he thought something like the viral videos of crotch kicks were his favorite things.

Everything left her with a bittersweet edge now. Her mood had honestly plummeted when looking into the office refrigerator, simply because someone had gotten some kind of cheap nacho cheese and chips package, and all she could think was how much he would've probably liked it.

That was what her life had turned into.

Her phone dinged an alert. She only followed three people on twitter, and only one of them updated regularly, usually with selfies. And even that follow had been accident, a thumb sweep on her phone that she hadn't gotten around to correcting. A twitter update. Scout69: Stream in 5..

"At midnight?" she said.

She clicked off the television, and got up to find her laptop. She had to step carefully over the cord, before she could pull up anything. At least she'd remembered to leave it charging at the kitchen table.

"Heyyy, this is Scout69, and today we're doin' a special called Abs for Babs. So, there's this kid down the street, Barbara O'Shea, we all call her Barbie or Babs, though. She's in the hospital and ain't even ten yet. I can't believe the shit this world throws at us sometimes. But, we ain't goin' to let her down!"

He turned away from the camera, and sniffed, as he rubbed at his eyes.

"What? It's dusty in here, I-I got allergies! Anyways, we're goin' to make sure that Babs is all right, and my abs are goin' to help." He pulled off his shirt and threw it off screen. "Censor that, twitch! Oh wait, you can't, because it's too hot. It'll frickin' melt that censor bar, yeah I said it!" He started doing some thing with his hips, which was supposed to be an example of that sexiness apparently.

I'll play whatever you suggest. Strip poker, spin the bottle, annyythin'!" Scout winked for the camera.

"I'm half surprised you didn't take up a career in stripping. You would've loved it. A bunch of screaming ladies, a general lack of clothes, and a stage of everyone paying attention to you," she said to the screen.

Of course, he didn't respond; it wasn't a skype call. It was probably for the best. He would've taken it as an invitation to flirt.

"Just kiddin', we gotta keep it kinda PG for when I show her Ma the video. If not, she'll drag me off to the nuns and tell 'em I was corruptin' the youth or somethin'."

The chat was going so fast that she could barely keep up with them, not that it contained anything of worth. More pictures made from numbers, genitals and boobs, this time instead of the usual dogs or hats, several messages of bro, look at me, and some kind of strange art made with slashes and asterisks. The chat went too fast for her to see what it was.

The cursor blinked over the comment box. Would he even see if she said anything? Would he even care? She hadn't taken him up on his offer of a date, though she hadn't had it in her to delete his number from her phone.

"Oh, we got our first donation, from Dickbuttmcgee! Oh, and I gotta be censorin' from now on, or I'm goin' to get soap in the mouth. From....duckbuttmegee, that's better."

She hovered her hands over the keyboard. Her mind was blank as she tried to think of something, anything to say.

His words still turned in her mind. Like a damn Youtuber knew anything about power, or her boss. She knew how to make shell companies, how to launder money overseas, how to keep a private bank account and how to fire someone effectively, but she still couldn't figure out a way to keep Paypal from shutting her down the minute she tried to be even slightly anonymous. SophiePauling@TFI.com was going to give her away immediately.

Then again, a part of her wanted to see his face when her name showed up on the screen. It'd probably be the same flirty bullshit he did with everyone else. Still, the thought made her smile.

She quickly made her account as Liam did some bunny hops, and jumping jacks. "Oh, you wanna hear more about the muffin mugger? I swear we had one in the South side in the eighties. You think I was just makin' stuff up in that on playthrough? Naaah! My brothers said you gotta jump up and scream 'Butt stuff!' as loud as you can to keep him away. See, the noise freaks him out, and with all the jumpin' he can't steal your muffins! True story."

"...only you," she said, and shook her head.

After verifying her email, and making a minimum donation to be subscribed, she was finally signed in.

Do you even spend that money of yours? he'd asked.

Well, she'd show him. She could spend money with the best of them. In fact....

She clicked the donate button again, and chose two numbers followed by many, many zeroes. Her bank account wouldn't barely be compromised with this amount. With her job, she could've given this much on a monthly basis without a single worry.

He'd hit it on the mark. Even her clothes weren't that expensive--except they were Mann co.. She couldn't resist the company discount.

"We got a---whoa, whoa, holy fuckin' shit whoa---I mean, frick, frack, snick snack----daaaamn---!"

He took several breaths, and pressed his hands together in an almost meditative pose.

"I need a minute," Liam said. "I really just need a minute. That is a whole lot of zeros from.... Wait a sec, I gotta shake this out before I read it."

She smirked at his outburst.

Liam paused the game and did several bunny hops. He turned around and wiggled his butt, in what she supposed was either flirting, excitement, a thank you, or all of the above.

"We got a number, whole big bass amoutn of zeroes from....SophiePauling," he said. His voice softened as he said her name.

"Sophie! I didn't know you were watchin'! You finally spendin' some of that dough, huh? I'm super grateful and...really, great to see you again! Hit me up later." He put his hand to his ear, with three fingers bend down, and only the thumb and pinkie raised.

The comments were again filled with 'omgs' and the bizarre nautical slang. Or maybe they were talking about postage? She still didn't get what this had to do with anything.

He winked and blew a kiss at the screen, which only caused another huge explosion of activity in the chat. Sophie blushed and turtled into her purple plaid pajamas, even though no one could see her like this.

"Okay, we already hit a mill, thanks to the donation from the lovely Sophie, so it's dancin' time!"

Liam pulled on a pair of shades and started to wiggle his hips as an iconic song by Tom Jones. He winked at the screen and turned to a full ass wiggle.

As far as she was concerned, this was totally worth a half a million.

*

She caught several texts on her morning commute, though she didn't read them until she parked.

Didn't send this 2 u right away b/c charity stream and need to decompress. Talked 2 Ma and she says i was a dumbass, put my foot in my mouth. Said I gotta stop tryin to solve everyones problems.

She didn't hesitate to reply.

No...I was unprofessional. I should've kept my cool. I'm sorry for leaving you there. That was bad of me.

She didn't write everything that came with it: I've kept my cool with everyone else, you just get under my skin like nobody ever has. And I'm sure you'll turn that into some flirty joke, but it's true.

But she didn't. She deleted every word that showed a hint of everything beneath the surface.

nah i deserved to walk home. i was just worried about u. tryin to get u to not be so stressed and stuff. so we all good?

Yes. Thank you for being understanding. I'll have everything sent to your lawyer so we can finalize the contracts. You do have a lawyer, right?

He'd mentioned something about his last lawyer being a homeless soldier and then a lamp. Given that it was him, she couldn't be sure how literal this was. Last she'd heard, non-sentient objects couldn't act as defense.

why u pass the bar too?

No, I never got around to getting one of those.

wouldn't be surprised if u had a spare medical degree and law degree stuck in there with how hard u work.

She burst out laughing. The years combined to have those would be older than she was now.

Thanks for the vote of confidence.

course! I got ur back. u need to hear how rad u are, just let me know.

I'll store that for later..... a phone call cut through the rest of her words. She blinked at the display. Bidwell was calling in. She tilted her head in thought. Liam was a client, of course. And clients always came first. She'd already jeopardized the deal enough with her outburst. Except, she knew, deep down, he'd never cast her away.

I've got a call I need to take, she quickly typed off

Catch u later.

As she went to the B's in her answering book. Here was hoping that Bidwell's call wasn't the last desperate reach for a phone while a tiger gnawed on his leg. Though knowing him, she wouldn't be surprised if it was.

"Pauling here," she said.

"Oh, good. The Fortune article just dropped."

"Really?" she said. She felt her pulse rise.

"I haven't had a chance to read it yet, but I know you were looking forward to it," Bidwell said.

"Thanks for letting me know. I'll check it right away."

"I'll leave it out on the front desk."

"Let me guess: Can't stay, have to go find yetis to punch?" Sophie said.

Bidwell sighed. "You have no idea how close you are."

She walked in through the glossy glass doors, feeling an urge to hum for the first time in days. She'd been waiting for the Fortune 25 Most Inspirational Businessmen under 25 and under for months. True, she hadn't been interviewed, but only the top ones got more than a few. After the deals which she had singlehandedly saved, she had to be on here.

She shivered with excitement as she opened up the glossy pages. She skipped past new tech reviews straight to the main event. She flipped through the pages, recognizing several of the people. Some stupid hipster restaurant owner who'd made his own chain of ironic rustic eating establishments, several start up hipsters.

Her smile faded when she got to the Administrator, who was much too old to be on this list, and somehow was granted an honorary mention.

Credited with saving the company in the fire of '10, Helen, often known as merely The Administrator to her foes and underlings alike is a force to be reckoned with...

"I did that!"

In fact, Helen had been gone. She hadn't even given orders, Sophie had gone against her own orders. She hadn't even gotten a raise, simply a that will do, Miss Pauling when it was what kept them afloat.

The same sort of thing when she got dismissed.

You have to become ruthless if you want to be successful. You must always be watching for your next rival, the person who would fill your shoes. And you must cut their dreams down, one by one.

Her last year to get on this list, and she didn't even warrant a mention by name.

She reread it again, with a sinking feeling.

She tossed the magazine aside, and walked as calmly as she could manage towards the bathroom. Only when she hit the metallic room and shut the doors, did she allow the professional mask to fall. As the lines of the article repeated over and over in her head, she started to hyperventilate.

Oh god, you are that nameless intern to a celebrity. He was right. You gave up your life to be a nameless secretary, a go-to girl. You got her laundry, for heaven's sake.

She desperately searched through her contacts. Work, work, work. Finally, she settled at B. Bidwell would understand.

It took five rings for him to pick up. An animal howled in the background. "Oh shit," Bidwell said. "Look, I'm a little busy. Can this wait?"

"..Um, no. I mean, yes. It wasn't work related at all..." Technically it sort of was, but not in the way he assumed. "...And I suppose it wasn't important," she said.

Another roar, and the sound of a phone being dropped. She cringed at the first scream, and hurriedly turned her phone off.

She wouldn't call them friends, precisely. Sophie was the firing squad, the one who wouldn't let any tears or sob stories get in the way of eliminating any workers the boss wanting out of the building. A job like hers didn't have room for friendship, least of all with people she'd soon have to fire.

Not many people had what it took to work with The Administrator. She'd once took it as a badge of honor that she hadn't quit, that she'd put up through all the bullshit. She knew the workers whispered when she went to the water cooler, but she never let it get to her.

Sophie didn't do guilt. It was number one in the Administrator's bestselling book Six Feet Under: Becoming A Modern Businesswoman and Burying The Competition.

She'd had to lose friends, fire coworkers, and embrace her inner ice queen, all so she could be listed as unnamed assistant.

The fight kept going through her mind. How had he, a damned high-school drop out who yelled at video games all day pegged this so easily? All her work for the company didn't even warrant a mention by name. She got coffees and did the Administrator's dirty work. She was a fucking secretary. And secretaries didn't make the lists of inspiring people.

It wasn't guilt, but for once, she was feeling something like regret. She hadn't let herself feel any--or anything--when she lost boyfriends and girlfriends, friends and family and all semblance of human connection. She hadn't let herself feel anything when she worked 14 hour days with take home work and nothing but alcohol to keep her going before she collapsed in bed.

She'd tried to join a book club once, but of course she never had time to read the books, or show up to the meetings, or remember the name of the several women who went there. Mostly they seemed to get drunk and talk about their husbands and children, something she never had much to add. They were none too interested in her suggestions of selections like Lee Iaccoca’s biography. Mostly, her times there consisted of awkwardly in the corner, being reminded of everything she'd probably never have, even though she wasn't sure she wanted it in the first place. She didn't even think they missed her; she hadn't been here long enough to even remember names.

And therein was the problem. Her phone was filled with business contacts, and him. Her college friends all had moved on, even her family rarely messaged her these days. She didn't have a 3AM friend she could call whenever. Hell, she didn't even have a 3PM friend she could call and get lunch with. And it was her fault. It wasn't as if she'd been cursed to be friendless by some mean fairy who wasn't invited to the baby shower. People had reached out to her, and she had pushed them away.

She pushed her thumb down through her contacts. She stopped at D. Dempsey, Liam. The first time she'd met him, she'd thought for the first time about being unprofessional, and listing him as Douchebag, Liam.

She tried to rehearse the words, but you were right were such hard words to say. She'd already had to say it so many times. Or maybe: I knew all this time, and you just pointed out to me that I'd been sleepwalking in my own delusion.

The Youtube video autoplayed to another one, a short edit.

"Listen, you're all my pals, and if you need me, I'll be there."

Sophie took a deep breath and pressed on his name with her thumb. She turned down the volume on her laptop as it rang. The last time she needed was another noise complaint from the neighbors.

"Liam--"

A woman's voice answered. She had a slight accent that she couldn't quite place. She laughed, and quite a bit of yelling, cheers erupted around her.

Another streaming session? Or was he just out there with his latest girl?

"Liam's busy, do you want to take a message?"

"Don't bother," she said. She turned off the phone and shoved it into her purse. Tonight, Vodka, Wine and Rum would be the only friends she had.

*

She woke up hours later to buzzing of her phone. Her tongue stuck to the top of her mouth. She groaned, and reached out for it, past the throbbing in her head.

In retrospect, she was starting to regret that bottle of wine she'd finished.

She fumbled for her glasses, and glanced out at her phone. Three missed calls and three texts, all from him. No one else had called.

Sophie had gone through work like a walking corpse, and nobody had noticed any difference. When she got home, she ensured there were a whole lot more empty bottles than she'd had before.

She wasn't even slurring level drunk. Just buzzed, but not in a happy way. It wasn't enough to take away the emptiness inside and knock her out for a full night. These days it was taking more and more alcohol to black out into anything near comfort. Obviously, she had to buy stronger alcohol. She stumbled off the couch and got a drink of water. Her microwave read 3AM in neon green letters.

After a tall glass of water, she read over the texts she'd received.

hey whats up? heard u called. marks gf said u sounded sad
Soph? u okay? workin hard?
just call me when u get this. no matter the hour i wanna hear.

His vlogs mentioned he often worked late into the night, and he said any hour. She tapped her thumb on the edge of her phone. She made her way back to the couch, and hugged her knees to her chest.

Finally, she responded.

Are you awake?

Seconds later, he called.

"Hello?"

"Yo, Sophie! I missed your call, sorry. One of my other buddy streamers was here, and his girlfriend said you called. She accidentally picked up my phone."

"It's not my business who you date...or screw," Sophie said coldly.

"Oh man, you thought she was my girl? I told you, it's Mark's girl. They're doin' a whole series together and stuff. Anyways, that ain't all we doin', we've got Mark in tow and we're goin' to break the internet with a strip off."

"....Strip off?" Sophie said.

"Yeah! Fans will vote who wins. Spoilers, it's goin' to be me. Oh, and I'm single, by the way."

"That's nice, I wasn't being jealous, though," she said.

"Wait, this some work thing?" Liam said.

"No, I---just..."

"What, is somethin' wrong?" Liam said.

"I didn't make the Fortune list," she said. It all came out at once. The sob came out too. She hadn't wanted it to, but around him, she couldn't keep it in anymore.

"What? How the hell could they miss you. You're incredible!"

"What's worse is I was there credited as 'assistant to Helen.' That's all I am, some secretary, some nameless drone!"

"Aww, jeez! What the fuck is this shit? You don't deserve that at all. Might as well call them the Fuckton list if they leave you out."

She clutched the phone tighter. "And I'm never going to make this list ever. I'm going to have something on my bucket list that never gets checked off. At this rate I won't even make the richest people of the world list. I know I shouldn't be telling you all this, but--"

"Hey, don't worry about it. I'm here for you. Although I hope this doesn't mean you think I'm like a friend friend, because I'd rather be your boyfriend," Liam said.

She couldn't help but laugh. "Friend friend? I was waiting for the flirting to start."

"Waiting?" Liam said He chuckled. "I was holdin' back because you sounded sad, but if you wanna know Flirty Liam up and close, I can make that happen."

"I'll take whatever Liam is around right now. See... If you want to say 'I told you so' then just get it over with. I deserve it. I really laid into you. I know I told you off back then but...I guess I needed that. That wake up call. And here I am, being unprofessional again. You must think I'm awful."

"Hey, no need to bring this up again. Ma's always sayin' I'm goin' to get punched if I keep givin' advice nobody asked for. I'm thinkin' about doin' a whole other vlog about that," Liam said.

"Getting punched?"

"Advice! Though I'll save that. People love the slapstick stuff. Long stuff where I tell people to grab life by the balls. Stuff like that."

"I'm sure it'll take off. Everything you do seems to," she said.

"That's because I'm a Force-A-Nature. When life punches me, I punch back."

"Do you have any for me? Because I think I need to punch something," she said.

"You gotta shake it off," Liam said.

"What?"

"Shake it! Dance it off! Shake it, shake it, booty quake it! When life hands you lemons, you throw those lemons back and dance on them! If it worked for Taylor Swift, it can work for you."

"I didn't peg you as the type to listen to Taylor Swift," she said.

"She's hot, okay," Liam protested.

Great. A leggy blond. Everything she wasn't. She caught herself just as a little sliver of irritation formed. She had no right to be jealous over petty things over someone who wasn't her boyfriend. Especially as she had to agree Taylor was pretty cute, too.

"I'm sure she'd write some break-up song about you," Sophie said.

"Probably would," Liam said, and laughed. "Yeah, she probably would. Wait, you know somethin' I don't?"

"I was just using an example," Sophie said flatly. If she held onto her phone any tighter, it was going to break in two. Obviously the Fortune thing made her emotions go haywire, like PMS on steroids. Here she was being jealous over a guy she wasn't dating over a girl he wasn't dating, and none of these lines would cross, none of them would ever date each other.

Denial, thy name was Sophie Pauling.

"I'm no good at this kind of thing. It doesn't matter anyways...I'll never make this list, no matter how many presentations I ace or people I fire."

Or how much laundry she picked up, she thought bitterly.

"Sophie, you're makin' it sound like you got three days to live. Step out of your square world with all that square nerdy egghead stuff and live a little. Fortune sucks, and so does anyone who doesn't give you your due."

"Excuse you, I graduated top of my class from Harvard. This nerdiness is here to stay," she said.

"Hot," Liam said.

She smiled, despite herself.

"Hey, hey, you got Skype? I'll show you somethin'," he said.

"Yes, I used it in a video conference recently," Sophie said.

"Good, add me. Same user name as my main one," Liam said.

It only took a few moments to add him on. In seconds a video window was up, and he was grinning at him from across the screen. The crushing loneliness, the half-drunk regrets lessened, just a little.

"Do I have to hang up?" she said.

"Nah, we can talk on phone and Skype too! Hell, I can probably chat with you in there if you want. Call it a threeway." Liam snickered. The Skype tune started to play as she accepted his call. And then, there he was, smiling at her from miles away. He waved at the screen.

"Trust me, I'm goin' to make it alll better," Liam said.

I bet there's a remix of this, she thought to herself as Skype booted up and started a catchy ring.

A video screen popped up. She hardly dared think what a mess she looked. She was too tired to focus on every way her life was falling apart. She could only focus on so many disasters at once.

He started shaking his hips. He nearly bumped into the couch, but that didn't stop him. The laptop on the coffee table was playing a tune she didn't know, a catchy song of shaking and touching. Now if she does it like this, would you do it like that? If she touches like this, will you do it like that?

He moved his hands from side to side like a botched chicken dance.

"If I had more room, I'd show you my breakdancin' skills, but in here, there would be literal breakin'. Seriously, check the archives, I can do allll kinds of crap." He did a twirl, and pointed straight at her. "Now it's your turn," Liam said.

"Liam...the last thing I want to do right now is dance. What I want to do is finish another bottle of wine and pass out, so I can forget this ever happened and enjoy my wonderful hangover for tomorrow."

"What you need is to play some violent video games, watch some heads explode, run it out, go to the firin' range, or go at a punchin' bag. I do 'em all a ton if you need lessons. But it's late and we've both been drinkin', so no go."

As much as destroying pixels, and things with her handgun sounded, the last thing they needed to do was be added as the next inspiration for some procedural show with a salacious based on true events slapped across the front to draw in viewers.

"You ever been to one? It's great to just put those bang-y noise-free headphones on and pretend you're shootin' whatever chucklenuts pissed you off. Hell, we could tape the magazine to the target!"

"I have enough guns that the NRA sends me love letters every month. Trust me, I know my way around a firing range," she said.

"Hot," Liam said. "Now, c'mon. Shake it off."

"Liam, this is ridiculous," she said.

"You want me to dance for the both of us? Because I can shake this booty until dawn comes," Liam said.

She shakily pushed herself up. Her makeup probably looked like some kind of zombie Halloween costume, and God, was that wine stains on her robe? If she hadn't scared him away with her last outbursts, her vodka aunt couture was bound to finish the job.

She started to sway a little. Except it was less dancing and more a general state of drunkenness. She lifted her hands in the air, like so many songs had commanded. She had to look like some kind of Senior Shuffle, only with worse hair.

"I look awful," she said.

"You look adorable and hot, and you are goin' to kill it," Liam said.

"I'm wearing a floral terrycloth robe and fuzzy slippers. I'm afraid to look in the mirror to see what dozing off did to my makeup and hair. Unless you're into the 'grandma' look, I am really lacking in the adorable department right now."

"Hey, I dig older girls. By which I mean, you'd look hot in anythin'. But especially that."

"Well, you must be drunker than I am," she said. "I should've guessed you were drunk dancing that whole time."

"Please! This ain't drunk Liam, this is had-a-beer-and-can't-drive-because-I-don't-want-a-DUI Liam. You wanna see Drunk Liam? You should check out my Drunk Team Fortress 2 videos. Classic stuff. They should give me a Nobel Prize for how I play Scout. The Nobel prize for Awesome."

"I'll have to check that out later," Sophie said. She stretched and yawned. After the restlessness and desperation, she felt tired. Relaxed was the last thing she'd expect to feel, but almost despite herself, she'd started to unwind around him.

"Hey, Liam... All those things you mentioned...you think they're open late?" She said.

"Hey, the mi casa is su casa. The House of Liam is always open for you, be it the middle of the night, or day, or whatever. Though, if you're down to come over tonight, lemme send one of my brothers to pick you up or somethin'," he said.

She glanced at the clock on the wall. "Three-thirty?" She rubbed at her temples. "God, I need to sleep. I've got a bunch of firings to do tomorrow."

"The offer still stands for later, though," he said.

"And I just might take you up on it. I'll even save the drinking until I get over to your house," she said.

"Oh man I will bring you the goriest stuff around. We don't even have to stream it if you don't want to!"

She raised her eyebrows. "What else would you suggest?"

"It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you," Liam said suggestively.

"You've never kept a surprise in your damn life and we both know it," she said.

"There's a first time for everythin'," Liam said.

She laughed, though that might've been the alcohol kicking in. "I really have to go, but--thanks. I really yelled at you the last time, and you were right. And you didn't even say 'I Told you so.'"

"I'd rather see you smilin' than be right," Liam said. "Seriously, you got a cute smile, but I almost never see it. Somethin' makes me think it don't come out often."

Sophie fell silent. It was like a kick to the solar plexus. She'd only met him a few weeks ago, and yet he'd already seen this much into her life, right down to the drunken 3AM rambling.

Usually, this would be her cue to say I can smile when I'm looking out from the world in my tower. But for once, that damn tower was looking downright mythical.

"I'm working on it," she said.

"Hey, if you need any help with that, I'm always here. Except when I'm travelin', but even then, I'll leave my phone on unless I gotta go on airplane mode. And even then, I'll check my texts right away to be sure I don't miss anything."

"You're....you've...." she let out a sigh. "You've done plenty to make me smile already."

"Then I'll be sure to do plenty more. Seriously, just go get some sleep. I got you, all right?"

She nodded. "Thanks."

"Sweet dreams, Sophie girl. Remember, this is just a speed bump. You're goin' to be so famous, you'll be like a chick magnet, but for list stuff."

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, maybe it was the hour, but she almost could bring herself to believe him.

"Thanks for everything," she said.

"You'll hear from me tomorrow, I promise it," Liam said.

"I will...look forward to it," Sophie said. "But I've really got to go to bed now, or we'll be in a spiral of 'you hang up first, no you.'"

"Aight, stay awesome!" He winked as the screen turned black. Sophie closed her laptop.

She found herself humming along to that catchy song as she made her way towards bed.

*

Three texts. A youtube link, with Make sure to watch it and a winking smileyface. His voice filled the bathroom as she brushed her teeth. He'd have loved that--probably have made a dozen flirty jokes about how he'd certainly not leave her lonely in the shower.

"So, there's the girl, Sophie Pauling, and she is the most hard working, incredible girl I have ever known. And she didn't make the Fortune 25 list thingie, which is a cryin' fuckin' shame. So Fortune, Fuck you! How the fuck did you put some Hipster Restaurant Dude above her? I saw that Buzzfeed article! Who the fuck eats sauce on a random fuckin' wooden board? That's frickin' idiotic! You don't give damn awards for that, except maybe the Darwin awards!

He flipped off the camera. She paused it, face flushed and looked around.

His red shirt had a quote grass grows, birds fly, and brother, I hurt people in bold black across the front, with a baseball emblem behind it. His usual baseball cap was missing, though his hair was a mussed mess of bedhead. He ran his fingers through his hair and smiled at the camera. And in that moment, she knew the smile was hers.

Maybe many of the others smiles had been hers and she hadn't been listening, but this was the first one she knew. She felt a little flutter start, a stirring in her chest. She pressed her hand to her heart, as surprised as if she'd had palpitations.

One, she can read. Not just books, but big contracts. She's apparently not a lawyer, but she can shift through that contract shit like a pro. Hell, if I ever was on trial again, I bet she'd get me off better than that Soldier who lived in a box who was also a lawyer and had a roommate that was a wizard that the state gave me. My damn lawyer was a lamp, okay.

There was a story there. She'd have to ask him next time exactly what went down there.

Second, she smells great. Like she should make those perfume ads with the woman running through the fields, because she's like...a sexy wave of good smells and awesome. Like sittin' under the tree and oh crap, look there's all kinds of flowers and shit, it's Spring! And with her hair undone and flowin' all about...yeah, she should totally do that ad... He drifted off, his expression growing dreamy as he seemed lost in thought. He startled from his momentary reverie, with a thick, ruddy blush that even reached his ears.

He pointed angrily at the screen, using aggression to cover up his momentary show of gentler emotion. Fuckin' perfumey people, go hire her already!"

Three, she is classy as fuck, a real lady. Like wipin' her lips at subway, and not shovin' food down her mouth. I bet she knows what a soup spoon is, because I sure as hell don't. Four, this girl has brains for miles. But not literally, then her head would be huge. I swear while we were out eatin' together she solved like, three big crises. It was amazin' to watch. If she's like that at work, then she's gotta be friggin' priceless. Hell, I want to hire her, and I don't even got a big company. But if I did, I know she'd sure run it right.

Five, she is the hardest worker, like, ever. I don't know how she survives on one day off a year, but she does. I couldn't even do workin' weekends, and here she is workin' her fingers to the bone every day, all day except one. And by one, I mean one a friggin' year. In fact, I'm thinkin' we gotta hashtag this shit. Hashtag Free Sophie. Six, she ain't too bad at skateboardin', though she had one hell of a teacher. First time I went out on a board, I wiped out so bad. She didn't even crash once

"I didn't wipe out because you were holding my hands the whole time." Her cheeks flushed bright red at the memory.

Seven, she's got real potential at gamin'. She says the funniest stuff, but always when we're not streamin' so I gotta ask her to repeat it and let me use it on soundbytes. Seriously, she's just a total genius. Eight, she's just damn cute, but also real hot. Like how did they make you so perfect. Who do I send this thank you card to? Gimme a nickel and I'll call your Mama and tell her about the good job she did.

She turtled deeper into her sweater and blushed even more.

Nine, okay this is a lot like seven, but she is just great at streamin'. I mean, she just might put me out of business if she ever went solo. She's that good. It's real great whenever she comes and plays with me. We both have a blast and together we make the funniest videos imaginable. The stuff that makes all my Pals really happy, and makes me happy too. Hash tag "Free Sophie" so she can have time to play video games. make this crap trend!"

When she checked #FreeSophie, she found there were already a hundred tweets made by various 69ers, all demanding she got the vacation time and lists exposure she deserved.

Ten, she does business and conference stuff, I could never do that shit. She works like, eighteen hour days I think. I don't know, I don't know what's a normal workin' day because, heh, I got the gig of a lifetime--but she works fuckin' tons. She should get a raise―hell, a dozen raises---just for that!

Eleven. She did a Two finger defense so well that I bet Mark needs to do friggin' reaction video. That girl is a pro at flippin' people off. Twelve, okay I gotta keep this kinda PG, but damn girl, damn, you got everythin', they broke the mold when they made you. Aaaand for thirteen, she's got amazin' taste in pizza. No pineapple here. Fourteen, she can bounce like a pro--on those bouncy castles, thought I meant somethin' else, huh?" He winked.

"Bounce like a pro? I didn't realize anyone could be a 'bouncy castle professional,' other than you. You're exactly the type of person to somehow turn that into a career," she said. She mentally saved that comment to text to him later.

"Fifteen, Top of her class in Harvard. I didn't go to college, just passed on the school of hard knocks, but somethin' tells me that took a ton of work and was super difficult, so props to her on that. That's some serious nerd power right there." He gave a salute.

Sixteen, she can drink you under the table. You wouldn't think somebody who might be five foot, if she's wearin' sky hig heels would kick your ass with a beer bottle, but she will, she totally will! Seventeen, she's got like plans and crap. A whole ten year plan. Shit, I don't even make a weekly to-do list. The garbage has to start smellin' before I remember oh yeah, that crap's got to go to the curb. I bet she don't got a problem like that."

Okay, it's eighteen time. This list is legal and legit! She can swear out ref like a pro, even on her first day at Fenway. Just see my instagram down below, to see the Fenway vlogs and selfies, and you'll catch her just tearin' into him.

Nineteen, did I mention she works hard? Like real hard. She came back three times to get a good report on me. Though not surprisin', a guy like me is a bit too legit to take all in at once.

Look, it's the big two-oh! She can let her hair down and do some great bouncin'. You ever see that bouncy castle vid? If you didn't, then go take a look, because it is incredible. Every video she comes on is just awesome squared.

Twenty-one, she can drink me under the table. She can drink everyone under the table. Except for OneEyedPirateJack, he's the king of alcohol.

He started to count on his fingers. Where was I again? Oh yeah, twenty-two! She'll do anythin', and I mean anythin', for her job. Like if I got a boss who made me work eighteen hours, I'd tell 'em to go fuck themselves and go be a millionaire on my own. OH WAIT, I ALREADY DID.

The camera panned to one long slow-mo surprised face.

Look, it's twenty-three, and that's for how at her age, she's already crushin' it all. And not in a kinky way, but like in the fact that she's on top, and deserves someone kissin' her shoes and givin' her a damn list. Twenty-four, I bet she likes kittens.

She couldn't help but laugh at this one. "Who doesn't?"


Aaand for big twenty-five, when her glasses fall down just so, she achieves the kind of cuteness which is mind-blowin'.

His face softened as he described her glasses. She couldn't help but bury her flaming cheeks in her hands.

"That's it, here's your twenty-five, because every damn one of the Fortune lists should've been here.

He pointed to the screen-or the camera, she supposed―enough to even slightly tilt it.

Hey, 69ers! Tell the ones you love what they mean to you. Don't choke, just take that shot. Haha, I should be on TV as one of those big life-coach things! He thrust his thumb to his chest. "This is Scout69, signin' off! Fortune, you're on my Fuck You list.

She turned even brighter red at the sound of the ones you love.

Despite it only going up a couple hours ago, there were already over a thousand comments. She browsed through some of them, with many impassioned talks about nautical things. She'd have to ask him about what new slang this meant.

She glanced on the clock. She wouldn't make it in early like she usually did, but for once, she took her time. It was like sunlight had spilled inside her. Her life was a disaster, but there was a definite bright spot.

Her phone dinged. She turned it over the catch the new text from him. Her heart beat so fast as she opened the inbox. u see?? u see??

She tried to write out in words time and time again, only to delete them every time. Finally, she settled on I'm speechless, really.

good. get used to it, becuz im goin' to make u speechless on a daily basis. Im goin to take ur breath away.

Somehow, he always knew just the words to say to make everything all right.

*