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water, coral reefs, palm trees, and those drinks served in coconut shells with little umbrellas and slices of fruit. Let’s stay at a resort with a swim-up bar. I’ve always wanted to wade up to a bartender in my swim trunks.”

“That doesn’t sound weird in the slightest.”

“It’s all the rage in the tropics.”

“When is the final?” I asked, doing my best to drag myself out of my stupor.

“In about half an hour.”

“Are you nervous?”

“Scarlett, it’s weird. I’m playing the best I’ve ever played in my entire life. It’s like someone flipped a switch inside me and I’ve got superpowers or something.” He held up his hands and wiggled his fingers. “My reflexes are so on point today.” He kissed both of his trigger fingers. “Papa needs a sponsorship and money to fix the damp problem in his flat.”

“Stuff the dump,” I said with a laugh. “If you win, you’ll be able to buy a mansion.”

“No, mansions aren’t my style. Though I’d buy a better place, for sure. You’d have to come live with me, of course.”

I made a face. “With all the hot chicks you’ll have dangling off your arm? I’ll be fine.”

“Scarlett…” His expression suddenly became serious. “You know, I wanted to—” His phone buzzed in his pocket and he clucked his tongue. Taking it out, he glanced at the message. “It’s time.”

Smiling, I threw my arms around his neck and squeezed him tight. “Good luck. You’re going to kick his Zero whatever arse.”

“Remorse.”

“Like I said, whatever. He’ll definitely be a zero once you’re done with him!” I pulled back and stuck out my tongue. “And I’m good for Aruba anytime.”

“I’ll pencil you in.”

“Is there someplace I can watch?” I craned my neck, looking out over the organised chaos.

“Down the front.” Jackson pointed towards the main stage. “There’s some seating and they show the match on the big screen, too.”

“Cool.” I followed his finger and got the gist of it. “Now go and crush him.”

Jackson melted into the crowd and I picked my way through the heaving mass of gamer geeks towards the front of the arena. Finding a seat, I glanced up at the stage as the final round began.

I could see Jackson up there, controller in his hands and a headset on his head. The other guy, Zero Remorse, was next to him. Turning my attention upward, I watched as whatever was appearing on their screens was beamed up for the entire O2 to see.

I tried to follow what was happening, but I knew next to nothing about video games. This was Jackson’s domain. He’d tried to teach me how to play Call of Duty once, but I kept dying in the tutorial mission. Apparently, it was the easiest part of the game to beat, but I couldn’t wrap my head around it. After my tenth gamer death, he confiscated the controller and banned me for life. It was a little dramatic, but after all, this was his calling.

Chaos erupted in the arena and I glanced around, not sure what was happening.

“Did you see that?” some guy said next to me, tugging on the arm of his buddy’s shirt. “He slammed Zero Remorse so hard!”

“Wait.” I turned to face him, looking for some kind of clarification my puny mind could understand. “Who won? Jackson?”

The guy blinked at me, like he was surprised I’d be talking to him. “Yeah,” he said after a second of stunned silence, “by like a million miles.”

I jumped out of my seat, my heart galloping faster than a racehorse on race day. I darted blindly through the arena, looking for the side of the stage. Jackson won! He won!

Spotting his curly hair as he climbed down off the stage, I pushed past a startled security guard and threw my arms around Jackson’s neck.

“You won!” I shrieked, forcing him to jump up and down. “You won! You slammed him so hard!”

He pulled back, grinning from ear to ear. “You bet I slammed him!”

“I had no idea what was happening, but you won!” I screamed and jumped up and down again.

“Scarlett, it was incredible. I mean, everything was so sharp. I was one step ahead of him the entire match. It was like I could see what he was going to do before did it.” An official tapped him on the shoulder and nodded towards the stage. “Uh, I guess I’ve got to go accept my obscenely large check.”

“Go,” I said, pushing him towards the stage, “I’ll wait for you. Then we’ll celebrate.”

I hung in the wings as Jackson gave his speech and accepted his prize. I had the jitters as he gave some interviews, hardly believing my best friend’s dreams had just come true. It was a whirlwind, and I stood amongst it all, watching as he lapped it all up.

Good, I thought. He deserves this. He’s worked so hard to get here.

By the time we left the O2, it was almost midnight and the lights twinkled against the night sky.

“I feel like a million quid!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms wide.

I laughed, his excitement was so infectious that his euphoria spread to me. “Aruba, here we come!”

“Let’s get out of here,” he said, tugging me towards the tube station. “If I don’t go home now, I’ll be tempted to party until the sun comes up and I’ll be broke from buying everyone rounds of drinks.”

“You just won a bazillion dollars and you want to ride the tube home?” I asked, making a face. “Are you sure you don’t want to splurge on a taxi?”

“I might be loaded now, but I still know how much things are worth,” he replied with a chuckle.

“Once a tight ass, always a tight ass?”

“Something like that.”

We laughed all the way down to the platform, throwing ideas around about all the insane things Jackson could buy. A giant in-ground ball pit, a suit of armour, a shack on a desert island, an atoll in the Pacific Ocean, a yacht with the name ‘Zero Remorse’, a diamond-encrusted toothbrush, a legit

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