Eric opened the door to find exactly what he'd expected.
Rafe Sterling stood there with his signature easy smile, vibrant red hair deliberately messy, wearing a faded band t-shirt and jeans that had seen better days. His relaxed posture screamed weekend casualness, and his expression held nothing but friendly warmth.
"There he is," Rafe said cheerfully. "The man himself. Looking thoroughly exhausted, I might add."
Behind him, Sarah Sterling wore a very different expression.
Her blue eyes swept over Eric in one comprehensive, damning assessment. She took in the rumpled clothes, the faint shadows under his eyes, the general air of someone who'd spent the night engaged in vigorous physical activity. Her lips pressed into a thin line.
"Maple Heights," she said flatly. "I can smell the expensive perfume from here."
Eric stepped aside, gesturing them in. "Good morning to you too, Sarah."
"It's barely morning," she shot back, walking past him into the apartment. "It's almost afternoon. But I suppose time loses all meaning when you're busy ruining your life one conquest at a time."
"Sarah," Rafe said mildly, following his sister inside. "We literally just walked through the door."
"And he literally just walked out of someone else's bed," Sarah countered, settling onto Eric's couch with the air of someone preparing for battle.
Eric closed the door and ran a hand through his copper-orange hair. 'Here we go,' he thought wearily.
"So," Rafe said, looking around the modest apartment with the casual interest of someone who'd been here dozens of times. "I'm guessing you don't have anything to offer us? Food-wise?"
Eric shrugged shamelessly. "You know me too well. Cupboard's pretty bare."
"Called it," Rafe said, producing two paper bags from behind his back with the flourish of a magician. "Stopped at Moretti's on the way. Got the usual."
The smell of Italian food filled the apartment immediately. Eric's stomach growled despite the breakfast sandwiches from earlier.
"You're a lifesaver," Eric said, genuinely grateful.
Rafe distributed the food. Pasta for himself, a salad for Sarah, and a massive meatball sub for Eric. They settled around the small living room, Rafe and Sarah on the couch, Eric in the armchair.
Eric attacked his sandwich like a man starving. The breakfast from earlier had barely made a dent in his hunger. Hours of physical exertion with Isabelle had burned through calories he hadn't even known he had.
Sarah watched him eat with obvious distaste. "When was the last time you had a proper meal?"
"Yesterday," Eric said around a mouthful of meatball. "Dinner."
"Before or after the client?"
"Before." Eric swallowed, took another enormous bite. "We had wine. Expensive stuff. Probably cost more than this entire meal."
"How wonderful for you," Sarah said acidly, picking at her salad without much interest.
Rafe, diplomatically ignoring the tension, focused on his pasta. "So, Eric. About today."
Eric paused mid-bite, suddenly remembering. "Shit. Our Saturday outing. I completely forgot."
"Shocking," Sarah muttered.
"I figured you would," Rafe said easily. "You were probably busy with work." He said work with air quotes and a knowing grin. "No big deal. We can reschedule."
"You sure?" Eric finished his sandwich in record time, eyeing the bags to see if there was anything else.
"Actually, yeah. I need to reschedule anyway." Rafe's grin widened. "Jennifer finally said yes."
Eric's eyebrows rose. "Jennifer Cho? The girl you've been pining after for six months?"
"The very same." Rafe looked ridiculously pleased with himself. "Asked her out yesterday. She said yes. We're doing dinner and a movie tonight."
"Damn, Rafe. Congrats, man." Eric meant it. Rafe had been crushing on Jennifer since they'd met at some community event. "About time she noticed you."
"Right? So yeah, no way I'm missing that for my sister and a gigolo." Rafe paused. "No offense."
"None taken," Eric said easily. "I'd ditch me for Jennifer Cho too. She's gorgeous."
"She really is," Rafe agreed dreamily.
Sarah made a disgusted sound. "Are we done celebrating Eric's lifestyle choices and Rafe's romantic prospects? Can we move on?"
Rafe ignored his sister, standing and stretching. "Anyway, I should drop you off, Sarah. Where do you want to go?"
Sarah didn't look up from her salad. "I'm good here."
Both men stared at her.
"Here?" Rafe repeated. "As in, Eric's apartment?"
"That's generally what here means, yes."
"But..." Rafe looked genuinely confused. "You hate being around Eric. You've told me at least a dozen times."
"I don't hate being around him," Sarah corrected primly. "I hate what he does for a living. There's a difference."
"A subtle one," Eric observed.
Sarah finally looked up, meeting his crystalline blue eyes with her sharp grey ones. "My friends are out of town for the weekend. Rachel's visiting family, Jen's at a conference, and I'm not sitting alone in my apartment doing nothing. So I'll stay here."
Rafe looked between them like he was waiting for the punchline. "You two can barely be in the same room for an hour without fighting."
"Then it'll be an interesting day," Sarah said calmly.
"Sarah—"
"Actually," Eric interrupted, surprising himself, "it's fine. She can stay."
Now both Sterlings stared at him.
"Really?" Rafe asked suspiciously.
"Really," Eric confirmed, though he wasn't entirely sure why he was agreeing. Maybe because the system's quest timer was ticking down and he was curious about what would happen. Maybe because Sarah's judgment, while annoying, was at least honest. "Not like I have plans."
"No clients?" Sarah asked pointedly.
"Not until next week."
"How responsible of you."
Rafe shook his head slowly. "Okay. You two are adults. You can handle one day together without killing each other." He paused. "Actually, Sarah, why don't you stay the night? I could bring Jennifer back to the apartment without worrying about you being there."
Sarah's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Absolutely not."
"Come on, it's just one night—"
"Get a lounge, Rafe."
"Those are expensive!" Rafe protested. "Like, really expensive. I'm trying to save money."
"Then take her to the movies and leave it at that," Sarah said firmly. "I am not spending the night at Eric's apartment so you can have privacy for your date."
"Why not? You're already spending the day here."
"The day is different from the night."
"How?"
"Because the night is when Eric does his work," Sarah said sweetly. "And I'd rather not be here if another client calls."
Eric opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. She had a point.
Rafe sighed, defeated. "Fine. Movies only. But if this goes well and she wants to see my place, I'm blaming you."
"I'll live with the guilt," Sarah assured him.
Rafe gathered his things, checking his phone. "Alright, I need to go prep anyway. Get a haircut, find something decent to wear that isn't a band t-shirt." He pointed at Eric. "You. Be nice to my sister."
"When am I not nice?"
"You exist in a way that offends her moral sensibilities," Rafe said cheerfully. "So, frequently."
"I'll be a perfect gentleman," Eric promised.
"That's what I'm afraid of," Rafe muttered, but he was smiling as he headed for the door. "Have fun, you two. Try not to murder each other."
The door closed behind him, leaving Eric and Sarah alone in the apartment.
Silence stretched between them.
Eric pulled out his phone, settling back into his armchair. His screen was filled with notifications. Several texts from Isabelle, each one progressively more explicit about what she wanted to do next time. A few inquiries from potential new clients who'd gotten his contact information from satisfied customers. A message from his landlord about rent being due.
He started responding, thumbs moving quickly across the screen. To Isabelle, something encouraging but not too eager. To the potential clients, screening questions to make sure they were legitimate. To his landlord, confirmation that rent would be paid on time.
While he was at it, he opened his profile on the discreet app he used for business. Time to update it. Maybe add a line about availability, adjust his rates slightly to account for increased demand.
Sarah sat on the couch, also on her phone, pretending not to watch him.
But Eric caught the glances. The way her grey eyes would flick toward him when she thought he wasn't looking. The slight frown as she watched him type, smile, type again.
'She's judging me,' Eric thought. 'As usual.'
He continued working through his messages, making notes about scheduling, confirming details. His phone was his business hub. Everything ran through it.
Sarah watched him smile at something on his screen, his crystalline blue eyes lighting up with amusement at whatever he was reading. She felt something twist in her chest.
'Why would I care?' she thought irritably. 'Why would I possibly care that he's smiling at messages from women who are paying to sleep with him?'
But she did care. She hated that she did, but she couldn't help it.
"Must be nice," she said, unable to keep the edge out of her voice.
Eric didn't look up. "What must be nice?"
"Having your whole life fit on a phone screen. All your clients, all your appointments, everything neatly organized into a schedule of... that."
"It's called being efficient," Eric replied mildly, still typing. "Welcome to the modern age."
"It's called being a—"
"Choose your next words carefully," Eric interrupted, finally looking up. His blue eyes were calm but held a warning. "We're going to be stuck together all day. Let's not start a war in the first five minutes."
Sarah bit back whatever she'd been about to say. He was right, damn him. They had hours to get through. Starting a fight now would make everything worse.
"Fine," she said, turning her attention back to her own phone.
They sat in silence for several minutes, both absorbed in their screens.
Eric was in the middle of replying to a particularly demanding potential client when he felt it.
Ding.
Not an actual sound. Not from his phone or anywhere external. The ding came from inside his head, clear and distinct like someone had rung a small bell directly against his skull.
Eric froze.
The system.
Before he could even think about summoning the interface, text appeared in his vision, floating translucent and blue.
‐‐‐
First Quest Available
Open Quest Board?
[Yes] [No]
‐‐‐
'Holy shit,' Eric thought, his pulse quickening. 'This is really happening.'
He focused on [Yes], concentrating on the option the same way he'd navigated the interface earlier.
The text shifted, expanding.
‐‐‐
[Quest Board]
New Quest: Making Connections
‐‐‐
Eric concentrated on the title, willing it to expand and show more information.
The screen responded, text flowing across the translucent surface.
‐‐‐
[Quest: Making Connections]
Your first partner has been identified.
Objective: Spend exactly 12 hours with Sarah Sterling. Ensure she is happy at the end of the day.
Time Limit: 24 hours from acceptance
Progress: 0/12 hours
Rewards:
+10 DP
+10 EXP
+Affinity with Sarah Sterling
Failure Penalty:
Loss of Debauchery System
Accept Quest?
[Yes] [No]
‐‐‐
Eric stared at the screen, his mind reeling.
'Sarah?' he thought incredulously. 'The system wants me to seduce Sarah?'
The woman sitting on his couch, currently glaring at her phone with the expression of someone who'd rather be anywhere else. The woman who spent half her time lecturing him about his life choices. The woman who was Rafe's twin sister and off-limits in about seventeen different ways.
That Sarah.
'Twelve hours with her. Make her happy. And if I fail...'
His eyes went back to the failure penalty.
Loss of Debauchery System.
'What the fuck does that even mean?' Eric thought frantically. 'Do I lose the interface? The stats? All of it? And how am I supposed to make Sarah happy when she can barely stand to be in the same room as me?'
He read through the quest details again, looking for loopholes, exceptions, anything.
Nothing. The parameters were clear.
Twelve hours. Sarah Sterling. Happiness.
Or lose everything.
"Fuck," Eric whispered.
"What?" Sarah looked up from her phone, frowning. "What's wrong?"
Eric realized he'd spoken aloud. He forced his expression back to neutral, dismissing the quest screen with a thought. "Nothing. Just... a client being difficult."
Sarah's frown deepened. "On a Saturday morning?"
"They don't really respect boundaries," Eric said, which wasn't entirely a lie.
She made a disapproving sound and went back to her phone.
Eric stared at her, his mind racing.
'Okay,' he thought. 'Okay. Let's think about this logically.'
The quest parameters were clear. Twelve hours with Sarah, starting when he accepted. Make her happy. The rewards were significant, experience and something called Debauchery Points, plus affinity with Sarah, whatever that meant.
But the failure penalty was catastrophic. Losing the system meant losing whatever potential it offered. And Eric had a feeling that potential was considerable.
'Can I do this?' he wondered. 'Can I actually make Sarah Sterling happy for twelve straight hours?'
She was prickly, judgmental, and seemed to take personal offense to his existence. They'd been friends for two years and had never gone more than an hour without arguing about something.
But she was also smart, funny when she wasn't being critical, and if he was being honest with himself, attractive. The kind of attractive that Eric had deliberately not thought about because she was Rafe's sister and that made everything complicated.
'And now the system wants me to spend twelve hours making her happy,' Eric thought. 'What the hell kind of game is this?'
He looked at Sarah again. She was absorbed in her phone, completely unaware that his mysterious system had just identified her as his first target.
'This is insane,' Eric thought. 'Completely insane.'
But what choice did he have? Decline the quest and potentially lose the system forever? Or accept it and figure out how to make Sarah Sterling, of all people, happy for half a day?
'No choice at all, really.'
Eric focused on the quest screen again, willing it back into view. The acceptance prompt waited patiently.
Accept Quest?
[Yes] [No]
He took a deep breath and focused on [Yes].
The screen flickered.
‐‐‐
[Quest Accepted]
Quest: Making Connections
Progress: 0/12 hours
Time Remaining: 23:59:58
‐‐‐
A countdown timer appeared in the corner of his vision, transparent but visible. Twenty-three hours, fifty-nine minutes to complete twelve hours with Sarah and make her happy.
The screen faded, leaving Eric alone with his thoughts and the woman on his couch who had no idea she'd just become part of an impossible system.
"What the actual fuck," Eric muttered, running a hand through his hair.
Sarah looked up again, suspicious now. "Seriously, what's wrong with you? You're being weird."
"Nothing," Eric lied. "Everything's fine."
"You're a terrible liar."
"And you're a perpetual skeptic," Eric countered. "We all have our flaws."
Sarah opened her mouth to respond, probably with something cutting, but Eric's mind was already racing ahead.
'Twelve hours,' he thought. 'Starting now. How the hell do I make this work?'
He looked at Sarah, really looked at her, trying to see past the judgment and criticism to what might actually make her happy.
And realized, somewhat horrifyingly, that he had no idea.
"Fuck," he said again, more emphatically this time.