The esports god I have a crush on just humiliated me with a frying pan. Three times. The match had barely ended when he blew up our team’s Discord, demanding my number. I was staring at the screen recording that was already going viral, my brain completely short-circuiting. In the clip, he runs me over with a jeep, then hops out to finish me off with a clang from his frying pan. Later, he wins a close-quarters gunfight, knocking me to my knees, only to pull out that same stupid pan for the final blow. And in the final circle, with victory just a second away—a guaranteed "chicken dinner"—he abandons the win. He literally runs through enemy fire just to find me, a barely-alive player with a sliver of health, and smack me into oblivion with that godforsaken pan. Seriously, is my crush a complete psychopath? 1 I’m a student at Stanford, majoring in data analytics. A bit of a nerd, I guess. My scholarships pay the bills. My younger brother, Leo, is a starting player for the top esports team in the country, ACE. Last week, he lost a bet on a livestream. The penalty? He had to dye his hair neon pink for a week. He refused, ghosted his team, and went off the grid, leaving his phone and this whole mess with me. "Chloe! I'm begging you! Emergency online exhibition match just got announced, it's mandatory and it counts for my performance score! If I lose this, my monthly bonus is toast!" his panicked text read. I was in the library, knee-deep in a data model, and didn't even look up. I texted back: "Got it. Your sister is a Diamond rank, you know. I won't lose you any points." …I really wish I could go back in time and slap myself. Turns out, a "Diamond rank" player looks like a mindless bot to a professional. I logged into Leo's account. The moment I saw my teammates' IDs in the lobby, my heart stopped. Besides my brother's tag, "ACE-Leo," the other two were legends from his team. And the squad leader's ID was: "Mars." Asher Vance. The Asher Vance. A campus celebrity, a computer science prodigy, and a legend in the league. He’d led his team to two world championships. His playstyle was brutally aggressive, his aim was inhuman. His fans called him the God of War. I'd only ever seen him on the esports club posters in the student union. In the photos, he had sharp eyes and a lazy smirk that always played on his lips. Before my brain could catch up, the match started. "Leo, you're quiet today. No mic?" a teammate named "ACE-Zephyr" asked. "You usually scream your head off before the jump." My palms were sweating. I followed them, dropping into the hot zone we called "Estates." I quickly typed in chat: "Mic's broken." I had just landed. I hadn't even found a weapon. A figure vaulted off a second-story balcony, landed in front of me, and blasted me twice with a shotgun. I was down. A notification popped up: "Mars knocked down ACE-Leo with a S686." I froze. Friendly fire? "Captain, what the hell?" the other teammate, "ACE-Bolt," sounded just as confused. "You're shooting Leo?" Asher didn't say a word. He walked over to my crawling avatar, switched from his shotgun to his melee weapon, and pulled out his frying pan. CLANG. Just like that, I was watching myself dissolve into a loot box. The team's voice channel went dead silent. "..." After a three-second pause, Zephyr spoke. "Captain, are you still drunk from last night?" 2 My face was burning. I waited for my teammates to revive me at a recall tower. The second time, we were pushing a new town. I had just taken someone down with an M416 when my screen went gray again. It was Asher. It was like he had hacks. He appeared from a blind spot I never saw, and a perfectly cooked grenade sent me flying. Then, he calmly strolled over, the same frying pan in hand. CLANG. Another loot box. "Captain, do you have a personal problem with Leo?" "Did Mars eat a bad burrito today? Why is he hunting his own teammate?" My teammates were shouting now. Asher had team-killed me twice. The third time, we were in the final circle. It was our full four-man squad against one last solo player. An easy win. I was prone behind a rock, my eyes glued to the field in front of me. Suddenly, the deafening crack of an AWM sniper rifle echoed, and my level-three helmet shattered. I was left with a single pixel of health. The one who shot me? Asher Vance. "HOLY CRAP! CAPTAIN, ARE YOU INSANE?!" Bolt screamed into his mic. I watched as Asher charged out of a smoke grenade, completely ignoring the final enemy player, and sprinted directly towards me. In his hand... was the frying pan. CLANG! "ACE has won the match!" The announcer's voice rang out, but I felt zero joy. I stared at the man on the screen who had just murdered me with kitchenware, and I couldn't stop myself. I typed one sentence in the all-chat. 【Do you have a problem?】 The channel went quiet. A few seconds later, a man’s voice, clear and lazy with a hint of amusement, came through the speakers for the first time. "Leo, send me your girlfriend's number." Girlfriend? My mind went blank. How did he know I was a girl? 3 Before I could process it, my phone started vibrating like crazy. It was a FaceTime call from Leo. The moment I answered, his frantic face filled the screen. "Chloe! What did you do to Asher Vance on my account? He just tagged me in the team group chat saying he's 'very interested' in your 'girlfriend'!" My face was numb. I sent him the screen recording of the match. Leo watched it. He went quiet. After a long pause, he asked cautiously, "Chloe... did you, like... hook up with him and then ghost him or something?" My hand slipped, and my phone clattered to the floor. Asher Vance. My university's resident esports god. He thought I was his teammate's girlfriend, and he hunted me down like a serial killer. And now, he wanted my number. 4 Leo's attempt to hide out failed miserably. The team manager tracked him down and dragged him back to the team's gaming house. He was basically on house arrest, which also meant he was hiding from me. Asher's frying pan saga had earned my brother a new nickname on the team: "Sells-His-Sister-For-Glory." Three days later, I got a call from an unknown number. "Is this Chloe Hayes? This is the director for the reality show 'Glory Rush'." I frowned. "You have the wrong number." "No, I don't," the director said cheerfully. "The ACE team recommended you. We'd like to invite you to be their special guest star for the show. It's a twenty-day shoot." I nearly crushed my phone. "I'm not interested." "Don't be so quick to refuse," he said. "We know you're not a pro, so we're offering a very generous appearance fee. Besides, ACE's captain, Asher Vance, personally requested that you be invited." ...Asher Vance. Him again. I hung up and immediately called Leo. His voice on the other end was dripping with guilt. "Chloe..." "Leo," I said, my voice dangerously calm, "do you want to see your allowance this month?" "No, sis, please!" he begged. "It was the Captain's idea! He said he really admired your... uh... gameplay and thought you had a lot of potential! He wants you to come on the show to learn from the pros." "Our manager agreed, too! He said even though you played like garbage, you brought in huge numbers! That 'Frying Pan Triple Team-Kill' clip is trending on Twitter!" ...I stared at the hashtag on my screen, took a deep breath. "Not going." "Chloe! Please! I'll give you my entire tournament bonus for the next three months! I'm begging you!" I hung up, opened my voice recorder app, and saved the last part of his plea. Then I sent him a text. "Send me the address."
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