Stranded IRL: Expose Me, #1

By Kestra Pingree

H3R0complex: Would it be weird to fall in love with someone you've never met in real life?

 

Why did my best friend have to send me this message now?

 

I don't have time for this. I don't even know H3R0complex's real name, face, gender, anything, but I think I might like to. This message does strange things to my heart.

 

I met H3R0complex through Ethereal War, my escape from reality and the world where my mom–the coolest game developer–still exists in the form of an NPC.

 

My mom lost the fight against cancer four years ago. 

 

I've made it my mission to preserve my mom's memory by taking control of Ethereal War, pulling strings behind the scenes with my backdoor. I know how it sounds, but I don't care. I have the power to do this–or I would if it wasn't for the hacker APOSTATE. 

 

APOSTATE is destroying Ethereal War with their cheats, and my grades are suffering for it. My dad has noticed, and even someone as laid-back as him could do something drastic if I don't pretend like everything is fine. 

 

I have enough to worry about, right? 

 

H3R0complex: - message deleted - 

 

—

 

Expose Me is a slow-burn romantic suspense with some spicy scenes later in the series. If you like your stories with a healthy helping of mystery and deception, you're in the right place. Anyone can have a secret identity online. Friends could be enemies could be lovers when realities clash in forced proximity and lies unravel.

 

Cliffhangers abound.

 

There are 4 books in this series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kestra Pingree
• Release date: Dec 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223822288

Book preview

Chapter 1

H3R0complex: Would it be weird to fall in love with someone you’ve never met in real life?

My heart slams into my rib cage and my next inhale gets stuck in my throat. I nearly drop my Uchiyama Tech REZ XL9 and get way too up close and personal with a wall while trying to save my beloved phone from ricocheting off it. A blast of pain follows, but my forehead is the only casualty. I rub the sore spot of skin hidden behind my shaggy black bangs. That subtle throbbing in my skull means a bruise is likely to follow. At least it’ll be covered, meaning no one will see it or ask questions. Except for, possibly, the witnesses.

The most popular senior couple of All Tides High School passes by then, snickering while wearing perfect white-toothed smiles. Did your virtual boyfriend confess his love to you? the evil witch of this duo taunts. She’s a cheerleader. She fits the stereotype. Skinny but busty, blond and tan, probably a beauty guru. She’s a goblin disguised as a fairy princess. I could go on.

Too bad you’ll never get to touch him. She kisses her boyfriend, obviously trying to make me jealous, but I ignore her. She scoffs and storms off while whining at her man slave. She’s been weirdly obsessed with me since she found out I didn’t know her name or status a week ago. I may know her role in the school now, but I’ve made a conscious effort to forget her name—which isn’t important.

Did I read that correctly?

H3R0complex: - message deleted -

Damn it.

I cradle my phone as if it’s a fragile glass sculpture despite the hardcore sunbursts-printed case that makes it basically indestructible. I lean into the wall and turn until my back faces wood then slide down to my ass. Cool linoleum touches my skin as I stretch out my shorts-clad legs. It’s not ideal to rest in the hall, where you can easily get trampled—or trip people in my case—but most students have left, and I need a minute.

While biting my lip, I absentmindedly stare at H3R0complex’s most recent DM in Slime. I swipe my fingertip up and down the protected touchscreen of my large-but-thin phone to scan previous words exchanged in the messaging app. Words upon words. Some are related to gaming, mostly Ethereal War, while others aren’t, but none of them reveal anything substantial. Name, gender, age. We don’t discuss real life. Discounting our thoughts and feelings, I guess. We get pretty passionate about hypothetical situations. Who wouldn’t? Saving an eaglet just to have it imprint on you and refuse to return to the wild where it belongs and would be truly happy is fuel for a serious discussion. Talk about an emotional roller coaster.

Why would he ask me something like this, though? He assumes I’m a guy, the same assumption I’ve made of him. Do guys talk about stuff like this together? I thought that was a girl thing—not that I have much experience there. I don’t tend to get along with other girls.

I raise my left hand and glance at the ring on my middle finger. The sunbursts match my phone case. Though my ring is pure titanium, the inner sunburst in this design is always silvery white while the outer sunburst is golden. Ethereal War players get it.

But this is me avoiding the more important question.

Why did I react like that?

It’s not as if he was referring to me. No way.

We’re brothers. Angels in arms. Master and apprentice.

He’s my best friend, and I don’t want to ruin that.

I’m overthinking this bizarre scenario and allowing my heart too big of an emotional response to words that might not mean anything. Whatever H3R0complex is getting at, the solution is simple: don’t make a big deal out of it.

After taking a deep breath, I reel in my legs. My Chuck Taylors elicit a squeak as I drag them across the floor; it’s a conspicuous sound when paired with the near silence of the lonely sunlight-blotched hall. I hunch over my knees, embracing my own warmth as I clutch my phone and tap out a casual reply.

Wyrm: What was the point?

H3R0complex: What?

Wyrm: Pretending it wasn’t there isn’t going to make the message deleted go away.

H3R0complex: I meant to send that to someone else.

You read it?

My heart drops into my stomach like a rock. Of course it wasn’t for me. In any way. I have nothing to do with his love life. Maybe he doesn’t even consider me his best friend. Well, good. He’s probably some acne-faced, greasy middle-aged man addicted to porn and living in his parents’ basement. He could be a catfish, involved in human trafficking, a serial killer. Who knows what he’s into. Anything and everything is possible.

Anything and everything.

I shake my head, banishing all condemning thoughts. All I know is what I know. Speculation can go to hell. We’ve been friends for about four years, and he’s been there for me the whole time. We’ve shared more than one sleepless night filled with restless minds and solemn duties.

Besides, I tried the whole boyfriend thing before. It required a lot of time I don’t have and wasn’t that great—the sex in particular.

Are all boys so selfish and possessive?

Never mind. It doesn’t matter, because I ended it.

Wyrm: I read it. Trouble with your love life?

H3R0complex: No. It was a dumb question. Forget about it, alright?

Wyrm: Sure, man. Whatever you say. I’m late but about to log in to EW. You coming?

H3R0complex: I’m one step ahead of you, amigo.

Wyrm: You’re no GoreKing9000.

H3R0complex: This is true.

Wyrm: Sounded like you were trying—and failing—to copy him. Amigo.

H3R0complex: Wow. That’s a mighty big accusation. It’s just a word.

Wyrm: The wrong one.

H3R0complex: You keep throwing gasoline on this dumpster fire. I’ll meet you their.

*there

Wyrm, you should prepare yourself. Decon was obliterated. Everyone who was able to immediately respond was taken out too, based on the early reports. GoreKing9000 and I will keep digging. We’ll brief you when you arrive.

Obliterated? Because I was taking a fucking test?

I swipe Slime off the screen and easily locate the Ethereal War launcher icon; it’s half gold and silvery-white sunbursts and half a bloody solar eclipse, like a spiced-up version of the yin-yang symbol. I’m about to tap it when I get a phone call. The caller ID says Dad, so I answer him with Hey.

I’m outside, Snapdragon. His tenor voice is so clear through my REZ he could be standing next to me. This is one of the many reasons why I love this damn phone. Are you ready to go, or should I park?

I’m ready. I push myself off the ground and fast walk to the smudged glass side door, which I smudge more when I nudge it open with my elbow. You’re late. What’s your excuse? You should have been off at noon.

Overtime.

You say that as if we’re not going back there right now for you to work some more. I trudge across the sidewalk, round a corner of the colorful building-blocks-esque school, and make my way to the front. Forget I said that.

Hey, we’re all right. We’ll pick up your car tomorrow. I got the call. The shop said it should be ready by then.

"Oh, thank hell."

I’d expect someone of your affiliation to thank ‘Heaven.’

I don’t mean anything by it.

Even so, with the way you talk, you would have made an excellent demon.

With a quick finger jab, I end the call then say to no one, I can’t be a demon when Mom wanted us to be angels so badly.

Blacktop extends into a parking lot spotted with white, silver, and black cars. It’s a very normal scene until a Halloween-orange vehicle assaults my eyes from the pickup lane. Dad said he wanted a happy car and this was what came of the paint job. It’s like a lonely jack-o’-lantern flickering in a field in the dead of night. Dad loves it, but I’m more of a paint-it-black kind of person; I choose to blend in with the dark—aside from my many metallic earrings. Anyway, his Elantra Hybrid is nice and all, but it isn’t that fancy or unique. He should have demanded a free Uchiyama Tech Kaki. Then being the only pumpkin on the road would be more justifiable. Plus, he’s owed that much. Four years ago, Dad buried himself under his job with overtime, but this year it’s been nonstop grinding to the bone seemingly in preparation for an early grave. Reiko Uchiyama covets his brain and works him like an indispensable cog in her machine.

It makes my skin prickle.

If it were my choice, Dad would quit. He argues Uchiyama Tech has been good to him since he started working for the corporation fresh out of college, but he doesn’t owe it or Reiko his loyalty. She didn’t notice his genius until a couple of years ago and doesn’t acknowledge the fact that he’s a fragile human being. If she did, she wouldn’t let him work this much. She’s the queen of ice queens with a son who’s just as aloof.

And I should fight harder.

Why must the prospect of boycotting Uchiyama Tech be so harrowing? Why is their tech so damn good?

Fuck me. And Dad. He could leave, but he doesn’t want to.

He doesn’t want to work less either.

Dad reaches over to open the passenger door for me as I approach. The myriad of freckles on his pale skin are somehow as bright as his car. Sun kisses, Mom always said. Mom was thrilled that I inherited Dad’s sun kisses even though the light-brown color of my skin is hers; I’m like a perfect fusion of my parents.

Thanks for hanging up on me, Dad says.

You’re welcome. I plop onto black leather after shoving a few of Dad’s crumpled papers aside, toss my textbook-heavy backpack behind me, and speed through buckling my seat belt before turning my attention to my phone. The sun doesn’t hinder my view much. Since I got this REZ, there’s been no more squinting at a too-dark display or groping around for apps in broad daylight. I tap the Ethereal War launcher icon and hold my breath as the loading screen pops up. The half-sunbursts, half-solar-eclipse symbol sizzles with magical energy in all its flashy 2D-effects glory.

Hello to you too, Dad continues. How was your day?

Oh, you know. Absolutely perfect.

A real-time rendering of a lifelike 3D cityscape appears on my REZ. Morning light glints off the shiny surfaces of lofty skyscrapers, then the scene devolves into a hellish rubble-strewn landscape of fire and smoke burning through the night.

My phone is a registered device, so I don’t have to type my username and password.

What about you? How was your day? I ask Dad.

Great! Uchiyama Tech’s new top-secret graphics card is going to make gamers like you ecstatic. Beta testing is going well, which hopefully means I’ll meet my deadline.

I tear my eyes away from my phone. Are you sure you should tell me about anything ‘top-secret’? And what kind of deadline is this? You live at work. You don’t even come home to sleep anymore.

Dad raises a ruddy eyebrow. That isn’t true.

I hear you come in at three in the morning!

Dad opens his mouth just to close it again.

I squeeze my phone and press it into the exposed skin on my thighs hard enough to leave an impression. Then I tuck my chin and stare at the screen. An indoor section of Brilliance Botanical Gardens stretches to each corner of the display, and a hulking man rises in the foreground, centered. Enochian script is engraved on his olive skin, iridescent and highly reflective. It doesn’t match his bulging muscles or the biker clothes he’s wearing, but this seal is required to bind a human NPC as a vessel. Without a vessel, you can’t play the game. Anyway, since Wyrm is my avatar, it’s only natural I make him wear black, angel or not. We have to match somehow. Also, he’s ripped, so I leave his chiseled chest exposed. His abs are a fucking washboard.

Like a grim sentinel, Wyrm guards a crystal-blue pond populated with blooming lily pads and a single large rock. Tapping the screen, I order him closer to the pond. White feathers swirl at his feet. I adjust the camera angle to watch a glowing figure step off a branch of a gargantuan and flowering gardenia tree, a product of pure fantasy. She doesn’t fall. She spreads her magnificent white wings and drifts, tracing trickling sunbeams and alighting on the large rock. Her wings fold at her back and vanish in a burst of twinkling particles as her rainbow-swirled eyes shimmer and track Wyrm’s movements. Her plush lips assume a tender smile; it’s a small detail, but one I relish every time I gaze upon Amare.

Hello, Mom.

Chapter 2

I have an explanation for the late nights, Dad interrupts.

Amare blinks, patiently waiting for me. I watch her in return, but I don’t interact with her to read her dialogue. I’d rather hear her.

Do you feel like sharing? I ask Dad.

Not yet, but I will soon. I promise.

Whatever that means.

Dad traces the steering wheel with his fingers, and I see him glance at me in my peripheral vision. I need to sort through some things before I tell you.

Sort? You? That’s cryptic.

Dad smiles as if to reassure me, but I don’t lift my gaze from my phone. With an exasperated sigh, Dad rolls us out of the pickup lane and onto the road. A car honks as if on cue. I peek out the window and predictably come face-to-face with some asshole shouting profanities. He tries to spit on my window, but, alas, his saliva is lost to the wind as he speeds away. I give him the finger a second too late and can only hope he catches the gesture in his rearview mirror.

Try again, Dad comments. I don’t think he saw you.

I place both hands on my phone. You’re not supposed to encourage that kind of behavior.

That was a very immature thing to do. Better?

Another car zooms by, too close for comfort. The lady driver is infatuated with her rearview mirror; she’s using it as a vanity to apply her mascara. Dad sticks his hand out the window to flip her off.

I gasp and almost give Dad my eyes. Almost. I assault him with words instead. Some role model you are.

Dad shrugs. I’m trying to understand what’s going through that head of yours lately.

Lately? Nothing’s changed for me since four years ago. You’re the one acting weird, more scatterbrained than usual.

I grunt a reply and turn my head to the right to erase Dad from view. My phone sits in my lap, Amare patiently waiting for me on the screen. Just a minute, Mom. Dad is distracting. H3R0complex’s deleted message is still bothering me, too. I need to reset, so I gaze out the window.

El Sol, California, traffic is hectic as usual and it’s only going to get worse as we near downtown. No matter what time of day it is, busy people are always going somewhere. The sky is clear, though. There isn’t a cloud or a hint of smog, only vast blue until skyscrapers slice into it like a drab paper cutout.

The outlier and tallest of the skyscrapers, the angular one that resembles a clear quartz Isis crystal, is the Tech Tower. Specifically, Uchiyama Tech Tower. It’s the place my dad works. From here, it’s not as impressive as it sounds. It can’t compete with the height of the