Sidequest for Love Read online

  Sidequest for Love

  By L.H. Cosway

  Copyright © 2021 L.H. Cosway.

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover design by L.H. Cosway.

  Editing by Olivia Kalb.

  www.lhcoswayauthor.com

  Contents

  Playlist

  1.

  2.

  3.

  4.

  5.

  6.

  7.

  8.

  9.

  10.

  11.

  12.

  13.

  14.

  15.

  16.

  17.

  18.

  19.

  20.

  21.

  22.

  Six of Hearts Sneak Peek

  Meet the Author

  Books by L.H. Cosway

  Playlist

  To listen to the author’s playlist for Sidequest for Love, go HERE.

  The quest for love changes us. There is no seeker among those who search for love who has not matured on the way. The moment you start looking for love, you start to change within and without.

  – The 40 Rules of Love, Shams Tabrizi.

  1.

  Afric

  “Okay, so let me get this straight,” I said as I eyeballed the instructions on my computer screen while my gaming buddies, Yellowshoes and TheBigSix, waited for me to finish reading. “First, I have to disguise myself as a fair maiden in need.”

  “Might be tricky,” TheBigSix pointed out.

  I arched an eyebrow. “How so?”

  “Have you taken a look at your avatar lately?” he asked, and I took in the sight of the little gargoyle with more hair sticking out of his nose than he had on his head.

  “Afric doesn’t subscribe to the mainstream standard of beauty,” Yellowshoes argued, her tone fixing for a fight.

  “Well, there’s the mainstream standard of beauty, and then there’s plain hideousness,” TheBigSix griped. “Afric’s goblin is hideous.”

  “Hey! He’s not a goblin. He’s a gargoyle. He’s also considered quite handsome where he comes from,” I stated.

  “And where would that be, exactly? Some rat-infested hovel that stinks of piss?”

  “You’re cruising for a bruising,” I warned.

  “Can you two focus? I have an early shift in four hours, and I’d like to get this sidequest completed before then.”

  I sighed and brought my attention back to the instructions on the screen. “So, after I disguise myself as a maiden, I then have to ride out to Redcrop Manor, gain entry, seduce Lord Varady, and shag him to sexual exhaustion. When he’s finally fallen asleep, I have to sneak into his study, steal the Ruby of the Forgotten, bring it back to Laurel Garden, place it upon the Giving Fountain, and then all the mermaids trapped in Seacroft Cove will be freed?”

  “That’s about the size of it,” TheBigSix replied through my headset, a rumble of amusement in his thick Scottish accent.

  I blew out a breath. “Talk about a sidequest. My poor gargoyle is going to be exhausted by the time he’s completed all that.”

  “But you love sidequests,” Yellowshoes said. “They’re your catnip.”

  “You’re right. I do love a sidequest for my sins. I’m just wondering how I’m going to manage this disguise.”

  “You could pay a visit to the Field of Bargains,” TheBigSix suggested. “Someone might barter with you and grant you the magic to glamour yourself as the maiden.”

  I chewed my lip. “That seems like an awful lot of work.”

  “It’ll be worth it to free the mermaids,” Yellowshoes urged.

  “Yes,” TheBigSix agreed. “Just think about how grateful all those gorgeous mermaids will be after you’ve freed them.”

  “My gargoyle isn’t interested in sexual favours. He’s like Varys from Game of Thrones, all political intrigue and whispers. The mechanics of power is what turns him on.”

  “Well, then think about how grateful they’ll be to me,” TheBigSix replied. His avatar was a tall, silver-haired warrior with a scarred face and golden armour.

  “I’m not here to facilitate your sexual exploits.”

  “How does a person even have sex with a mermaid?” Yellowshoes mused, her multi-coloured unicorn avatar kicking back its hind legs. “Their entire bottom half is a fish tail.”

  “They still have mouths,” TheBigSix muttered under his breath, and I chuckled while Yellowshoes made a grossed-out noise.

  “You’re disgusting,” she complained.

  “You love how disgusting I am,” he shot back.

  “I do not!”

  “Are you both going to accompany me to the Field of Bargains so that I can barter for this magical glamour then?” I interrupted because the two of them would argue for hours if left unchecked.

  “Yes,” they replied in unison.

  I grinned. “All right then, let’s get this show on the road.”

  Several hours later, we’d successfully completed the sidequest and TheBigSix was off enjoying himself with all those freed mermaids. Yellowshoes and I decided to call it a day since she had to work and I had to meet my best friend, Michaela, for lunch. Glancing at the clock, I decided that I’d better get a move on if I didn’t want to be late. I stared longingly at my computer as I powered everything down. The addicted part of my brain just wanted to stay in all day and game.

  When I was a teenager, I discovered Greenforest, an online game set in a high fantasy, medieval-style world filled with magical creatures, political corruption, power grabs, and adventures galore. After a few years of obsessively playing the game, on a whim, I created a stream for other people to watch me play. I never expected it to turn into an actual job, but over time, I accumulated an audience.

  Now I was twenty-five years old, and my streams regularly attracted thousands of viewers. Sometimes I played alone, and other times, like today, TheBigSix and Yellowshoes joined me. TheBigSix was from Edinburgh, while Yellowshoes hailed from Miami, and though I currently lived in London, I was originally from Dublin, Ireland.

  There were a lot of heavy accents going on when we streamed together.

  But that was one of the things I loved about the internet. You could have friends from all over, instantly connecting with them from the comfort of your bedroom. At least, my bedroom was where I typically streamed since my flatmate, Sarita, didn’t enjoy being caught coming out of the shower while I went live to thousands of strangers on the internet.

  That really happened once. She still hasn’t forgiven me.

  As I rifled through my wardrobe searching for clean clothes to wear to lunch, I caught sight of a red hoodie, and my stomach lurched. Dev broke up with me months ago, and I thought I’d purged my room of all his things, but I’d clearly missed this old hoodie. I pushed the offending item deeper under a pile of other clothes and tried not to let our break-up conversation intrude into my thoughts, but it was useless.

  I don’t want to go out with you anymore, Afric.

  But why not?

  Because you spend far too much time gaming. It isn’t healthy.

  You game, too. You game almost as much as I do. It’s also my job if you hadn’t noticed.

  That’s just it. I want to be in a relationship where gaming is my hobby and my girlfriend does, you know, normal stuff.

  So, I’m not normal enough for you?

  Look, I’m sure you’ll find someone who’s really into you one day, but that someone isn�
��t me.

  I finally managed to mute the memory. I was completely over Dev, but his rejection still smarted a little, mainly because in all my past relationships, I was always the one being broken up with, never the other way around. It was such a recurring theme that I’d now come to believe there was something about me that simply turned men off after a while. It could be a broad range of things, from my obsession with computer games to my quirky fashion sense to my lack of a verbal filter. Hell, maybe I had a really bad body odour, and no one was brave enough to tell me.

  Anyway, I’d decided to quit dating for the foreseeable future. What was the point if they were only going to reject me in the end?

  Not wanting to inadvertently stumble upon any more of Dev’s things, I barely looked at the clothes I grabbed as my phone buzzed with a message.

  Michaela: I’m about to head to the restaurant. Do you mind if my co-worker Neil joins us?

  I vaguely remembered that Neil was a personal assistant, the same as Michaela, and that he was supposed to be a really nice bloke. My friend had spoken highly of him at least. I typed a quick response.

  Afric: Sure! The more the merrier!

  Michaela: Great. See you soon. x.

  Neil

  At work, my duties ranged from the ordinary to the downright odd. The ordinary would be picking up dry-cleaning, while what I was doing right now would certainly be considered odd. I was logged on to my boss, Callum Davidson’s, social media accounts and responding to messages while pretending to be him.

  Jocelyn561: Last week’s episode was incredible! I can’t believe you managed that jump!

  Callum: Thanks so much! I’m glad you enjoyed the ep.

  I was a personal assistant to the cast of Running on Air, a reality TV show about a group of freerunners from London. I carried out duties for all six cast members, but lately, I’d been dealing with a heavy workload for Callum in particular. He was the stud of the show, the one female, and even some male, viewers obsessed over, which meant he tended to get a lot of attention online. And since Callum had no interest in maintaining a social media presence, that task fell to me.

  It was also awkward because I’d once had a thing for Leanne, the only female member of the cast and Callum’s current girlfriend. Add to that the fact that I’d confessed my feelings to her, and she’d promptly informed me those feelings weren’t reciprocated. So, now I had to spend hours at a time pretending to be the bloke she chose instead. Fun, right? Callum was my complete and total opposite, too. He was handsome, athletic, and muscular, with tattoos covering almost every inch of his skin. I was the plain guy in the background who was so unremarkable that people rarely even noticed I was there.

  Yes, while my bosses completed death-defying stunts such as jumping between the roofs of ten storey buildings or scaling down the side of football arenas, I was normally somewhere close by with my tablet, making hotel arrangements and answering emails. But to be honest, that was much more my speed anyway. I also had a fantastic co-assistant in Michaela, who was sweet and kind and just as much of an organisation enthusiast as I was.

  “Are you going for lunch?” I asked her when we finished up for the morning. I was desperate for a break from pretending to be Callum. It was a constant reminder of how I was screwing my life up from the comfort of my very own smartphone.

  Michaela glanced at her watch. “I’m meeting my friend Afric for sushi. You’re welcome to join us.”

  “Great, I love sushi,” I replied, jumping up from my seat eagerly.

  “Just to warn you, Afric is … a little unusual,” Michaela said as we made our way out of the gym.

  “Do I even want to know what that means?” I questioned, raising one eyebrow.

  Michaela fussed with the strap of her handbag. “It just means that she’s not everyone’s cup of tea.”

  I nodded warily, still not entirely sure what Michaela was getting at until we arrived at the restaurant and my attention was immediately drawn to a young woman standing outside, her eyes on her phone. She had blue hair and wore green leggings, pink Balenciaga’s, and an oversized black jumper that appeared to feature a person being abducted by an alien spaceship.

  It was accompanied by the text, Get in, loser. We’re doing butt stuff.

  Both my eyebrows shot up as I asked, “Is that your friend?”

  Michaela nodded, and my eyebrows rose higher. I wasn’t judging. I just hadn’t expected she’d be friends with someone with outrageously blue hair who wore tops displaying obscenities.

  “Does her top say what I think it says?” I went on.

  Michaela didn’t answer, but she looked like she was trying to contain her amusement as we approached her friend.

  “You’re late,” Afric commented before her eyes landed on me. “Who’s this?” She had an Irish accent, and though her appearance was somewhat unusual, I appreciated the musical lilt of her voice.

  “This is my co-assistant, Neil. Don’t act like I didn’t text you he was coming,” Michaela chided primly before turning to me. “Neil, this is Afric.”

  “Nice to meet you, Afric,” I said and held out my hand to her.

  She glanced at it, a wide, dimpled smile spreading across her face as she chuckled. “Oooh, a handshake, aren’t you posh!”

  A feeling of awkwardness settled in as I quickly withdrew my hand, rubbing it on the side of my pants as though I’d just been stung. So, this was what I got for having manners? Michaela sent me a look of apology while Afric gave a hoot of laughter. I bristled as we stepped inside the restaurant, not very keen on eating lunch with this woman. Admittedly, I just met her, but I couldn’t imagine us having very much in common.

  A waiter seated us at a table, and my attention went to Afric’s top again. Okay, so I could admit it was a little bit funny, but how did she keep a straight face while walking around wearing a top displaying the phrase “butt stuff”?

  “Michaela, why is your friend staring at my boobs?” Afric questioned, and I immediately averted my gaze.

  “I’m not staring at your …” I paused, lost for words. Had she really just asked that? She seriously didn’t have a filter. And I wasn’t looking where she said I was. Not that you could see anything under her baggy top anyway. “I was looking at your jumper.”

  Afric glanced down then slapped her head like she was an idiot. Had she forgotten what she was wearing?

  “Oh, right. Are you into UFOs?” she asked with a curious light in her eyes.

  Don’t tell me Michaela’s friend was one of those conspiracy nuts.

  “Not particularly,” I answered dismissively since this wasn’t a topic I was interested in discussing.

  “Why not?” Afric asked, tilting her head as she studied me.

  “The California rolls look good,” Michaela said, a welcome change of subject.

  “You’re right. They do,” I agreed, glancing at the menu.

  “So, you don’t believe in aliens?” Afric pushed, not letting the subject drop.

  I brought my attention back to her, hoping to dispel the topic once and for all with a simple, “No, I don’t.”

  A small smile shaped her lips. “Interesting.”

  There was something about the sparkle in her eyes as she took me in that bothered me. “Why is it interesting?”

  “Well, there are typically three types of people when it comes to this sort of thing: believers, non-believers, and agnostics.”

  “Okay,” I said, turning to Michaela. “Shall we order?”

  She nodded. “The waiter should be back over soon.”

  “You seem to be a non-believer, and that’s the worst kind,” Afric went on.

  If there weren’t only three of us at the table, it might’ve been easier to ignore her, but since she was staring right at me and the restaurant was relatively quiet, it was impossible.

  “Pardon me?” I asked.

  “You’re a non-believer. You shut down the possibility completely even though the existence of aliens has yet to be proven o
r disproven. It’s very close-minded.”

  “I am not close-minded,” I blurted, and she smiled, seeming pleased that she’d gotten a reaction out of me.

  “Well, then why don’t you give aliens a chance? They could exist, but you’re just completely writing them off.”

  I couldn’t believe I was actually having this conversation. Why were we even talking about this? The annoying part was there was something about Afric’s attitude that riled me up, and while I’d attempted not to argue with her, I couldn’t help it.

  “Okay, so how about this,” I said, and her blue eyes lit when she saw I’d become worked up. “If they do exist, then why haven’t they made contact? And why are the people who claim to see them always hicks who live out in the middle of nowhere with too much time on their hands?”

  Afric sat back, folding her arms as she smirked at me. Her smirk was entirely too aggravating, especially because it caused two ridiculously mischievous dimples to appear in her cheeks. “That’s not true. There are plenty of eyewitness accounts from pilots and respected military personnel. It’s not all hicks, as you call them,” she responded. “And besides, how do you know they haven’t made contact? Perhaps they have, and the government is keeping it all under wraps.”

  “I might actually get the sashimi. It sounds delicious,” Michaela went on, her shoulders tense. She was clearly worried about us getting into a full-blown argument, and we’d only just met. I couldn’t help it, though. This woman irritated me, and that was saying something because I barely knew anything about her.