Play It Again Read online

  Play It Again

  By Aidan Wayne

  The videos are fun.

  But it’s the host who has him coming back for more...

  When Seattle-based blind YouTuber Dovid Rosenstein finds Sam Doyle’s Let’s Play channel, playitagainsam, he’s instantly captivated by the Irish gamer. Everything about Sam is adorable, from his accent to his personality, and Dovid can’t get enough of his content.

  Dovid’s glowing shout-out on Don’t Look Now, his own successful channel, sends Sam’s subscriber numbers skyrocketing overnight. He has more comments than he can read. And while the sudden surge in popularity is anxiety inducing, Sam decides it’s only right to dedicate his next episode to Dovid...which soon leads to a heart-pounding exchange of DMs.

  They may have never met in person, but Dovid’s never felt this close to anyone before. What they have feels worth exploring—no matter the distance. But is it possible to already be in love with someone who’s half a world away?

  One-click with confidence. This title is part of the Carina Press Romance Promise: all the romance you’re looking for with an HEA/HFN. It’s a promise!

  This book is approximately 69,000 words

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Excerpt from His Two Leading Men by Aidan Wayne

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Aidan Wayne

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  The door to Rachel’s room opened and closed, followed by the sound of footsteps.

  Dovid winced. He knew what was coming. It was February third. Which meant—

  “Dovid,” Rachel sing-songed, “guess what time it is?”

  Dovid groaned, refusing to lift his fingers from his book. “No. No, no, no, come on, we’ve done this every year since we released that stupid video.”

  “Exactly. It’s tradition now.”

  “Watching it one more time isn’t going to matter to the view count,” he tried, just like he had every year for the last five years.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Rachel said, plopping down next to him on the couch. “It’s still one of our highest viewed videos, and do I need to mention that it’s the one that went viral and got us popular in the first place?”

  “Ugh.” Dovid marked his place and set his book down on the arm of the couch. “Fine then, just play the damn thing.”

  Rachel didn’t say anything, but then there was the oh-so-familiar click of a mouse button and—

  “Psst. Dovid. Dovid, wake up.”

  Dovid sighed. Rachel had come into his room at three am to bother him. They’d hit on the idea together, but being woken up after a night of illicit drinking was much less fun than it had initially sounded.

  “Rachel? What...what time’sit? What d’you want?”

  “I needed to ask you about your name, remember?”

  Dovid groaned, because he knew what was coming next. He knew a drunk, heavy-sleeper, and thus only half-awake, eighteen-year-old Dovid was sitting up in bed and fumbling for his glasses because he knew he was being filmed and his glasses were an important accessory even at fucking three am, and asking, “Wha’ about my name?”

  “Well... I heard another person call you David yesterday.”

  On the couch, present-day Dovid bristled indignantly. And video-Dovid was doing the same thing. “I know,” he mumbled. “Fuck him.”

  “Why? What’s the big deal?”

  “Because it’s my name,” Dovid whined. Whined. Present-Dovid groaned. “And it’s not that fucking hard.”

  “Yeah?”

  And here it went. “It’s so simple. It’s just two syllables. ‘Do-vid.’ Two vowel pronunciations. ‘Do-vid.’ It’s one of the simplest things to do! Everyone knows how to say ‘duh.’ It is an integral part of human language. Everyone knows how to say ‘vid’ because there isn’t a person on the planet who can’t say ‘video.’ Combine them. ‘Duh’ plus ‘vid.’ ‘Duh-vid.’ ‘Dovid.’ It isn’t! That! Hard!”

  Dovid sank down into the couch. Video-Dovid was just warming up.

  “And just why is ‘David’ supposedly so much easier to pronounce? Because it’s more mainstream? What makes something mainstream? Why can people get ‘Schwarzenegger’ and have that be mainstream? It’s not fair. My name is so much easier. It is, isn’t it?”

  “It’s easier than ‘Schwarzenegger,’ sure,” Rachel said, in unison with her video-voice. He could tell that they were both trying not to laugh.

  “See? Well, no, I mean, I can’t—” at that, at least, Dovid’s lips quirked. Even at three am he still managed to make blind jokes “—but you can. And so can so many other people. And that’s an expression too, that’s dumb. Just because I can’t see really doesn’t mean I can’t see a stupid point. Like how easy my name is. It is easy, isn’t it? Wait, you just said that. So did I. Anyway, David isn’t a dumb name, but it’s a different name. Than mine. Because I’m Dovid. Duh. Also ‘vid.’ And that’s my name. It’s so easy!” A pause. “And I’m awake now, thanks a lot.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Ugh.”

  “You can go back to bed if you want to.”

  “No, I can’t,” Dovid whined. Again. “I’m going to be kept up about the injustice of name usage and its varying pronunciation properties. Also, I am really awake. Ranting woke me up. Now what am I supposed to do? Rachel, I have a test in... What time is it?” Video-Dovid slammed his hand on the clock next him.

  In an even, British accent, the clock chimed out, “The time is three fifty-eight.”

  “Rachel. Rachel, Rachel, I have a test in the morning. And I’m awake. Why did we decide to do this?”

  “Because you thought it’d be something funny to put on YouTube.”

  “Was I right?”

  “It was pretty funny, yeah.”

  “Great.” A pause. “I’m going to take a shower, I think.”

  “Okay.”

  “That means you should stop filming and also that you should go away.”

  A laugh. “Okay. G’night.”

  “Shut up.”

  “There,” present-Rachel said as the video ended. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  “Baby me sounds like such a brat.”

  “Adult you still sounds like that,” she pointed out.

  “Excuse you, my voice definitely evened out.”

  “I meant about the name thing.”

  “Oh, shut up and finish your little ritual.”

  She laughed. “Aaaannd our current view count for that video is two million, seven hundred and forty-three thousand, six hundred and eighty-nine views.”

  “Fucking...when did we break six hundred thousand?”

  Rachel nudged him. “Like last week. Weren’t you paying attention?”

  “I don’t have your compulsion to track the current view counts of all our most popular videos,” Dovid grumbled. “Also, I hate that video.”

  “You thought it was a good idea at the time,” she said, voice still colored with laughter.

  “We came up with that idea while we were drunk! And we weren’t allowed to tell anyone that because we were both underage and we still can’t tell anyone because Mom and Dad never found out.”


  Rachel patted him solemnly on the back. “A secret we will take to our graves.”

  “I hate that video.”

  “Oh, you do not, stop it. That video is what helped your rise to YouTube success and fame. And you’re known for way better stuff than ‘Angry Blind Teen Rants about His Name.’”

  “I also shouldn’t have given you video-naming privileges.”

  “I name all of your videos. I’m the creative one, remember? You’d be nothing without me.”

  Even if it had been someone else, Dovid still would have bristled. He hated being reminded that sometimes he had to depend on others. That he wasn’t ever going to be quite as independent as he wanted to be. With Rachel, Dovid sighed but smiled. “Yeah, I know.”

  Pretty much since they were born, Rachel took her “seventeen minutes older and thus the big sister” job very seriously. Even more so when she was old enough to realize that Dovid wasn’t a typical child.

  Or no, because Dovid had been a pretty typical child. Just that, thanks to medulloepithelioma—a type of incredibly invasive cancer—he grew up missing two parts a typical child possessed, after they were removed in order to get rid of the cancer entirely.

  Rachel learned early on that having a little brother without eyes meant she’d be acting as his eyes (and insisting on doing so) whenever the chance arose and sometimes when it didn’t. Rachel was the one who tried to beat up the kids who teased him, who helped navigate clothes shopping, and who, amazingly, didn’t mind doing most of the cleaning in their shared apartment.

  And yet she did it all without being suffocating. They were just Dovid and Rachel Rosenstein, living and working together in Seattle, documenting their lives (well, mostly Dovid’s; Rachel hated being on camera) for a living, and getting along surprisingly well even after all these years. Which was pretty good considering their whole dynamic existed because of those things.

  “So, hey,” Rachel said, bumping shoulders with Dovid on the couch. “Are we still on to review that restaurant today?”

  “Yeah, I talked to the owner again this morning. They’re comping meals for both of us and he asked that we order more than we’d typically eat so that we can review as many dishes as we can.”

  Rachel rubbed her hands together, the sound familiar. “Awesome. I’m going to eat so much dessert.”

  “You always say that.”

  “And it’s always true,” she said solemnly.

  “And yet you refuse to be on camera to talk about said desserts, so I also have to eat a little bit of everything and, I don’t know if you noticed, Rachel, but I do try to maintain a certain physique for my viewers.”

  “Okay, one, of course I try not to notice, you’re my baby brother. Two, saying it like that makes it sounds like your viewers are watching you for an entirely different reason, and three, it’s February—you’d freeze without a shirt on anyway.”

  “One, I’m not your ‘baby’ brother, I’m like fifteen minutes younger than you—”

  “Seventeen!”

  “Not the point. Two, you’ve read me some of that fanfiction—against my will, I might add—so you know even better than I do that some of our viewers watch me exactly for that reason, and three, I’m not saying I’m going to pose without a shirt on, duh—”

  “Vid.”

  “Rachel.”

  “What?”

  Dovid groaned. “I don’t know why I put up with you.”

  “Because you love me. We already established this.”

  “Yes to the stupid restaurant. We’re going to eat lots of food and desserts, and then you’re probably going to sneak some video of me working out later because you always do.”

  “Can I help it if I need to give the fans what they want?”

  “So you do admit some of them want me for my body,” he said triumphantly.

  She patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll help keep your virtue intact.”

  “Oh no you fucking won’t, if I don’t want said virtue. You’ll make yourself scarce, like a good sex-repulsed aroace.”

  “Ick. True.”

  He laughed and stood up. “Okay, I’m ready to get ready for food if you are. Wanna grab the camera and we’ll mic me up?”

  “Already grabbed. Is that what you want to wear?”

  Dovid ran his fingers down the front of his shirt. It was a nice cotton blend, and according to where he’d found it in his closet, was a faded grey plaid print. He was wearing a black tee underneath. “Yeah, sure. We don’t have to film ‘Dovid decides what to wear before he goes out’ every time I leave the house.”

  “Yeah, but it always helps solidify the time skip.”

  “Let me mic myself up, woman,” he said, holding out his hands for the gear.

  * * *

  “We ready?”

  “Yeah, hang on, checking sound...okay, yeah, we’re good.”

  “Awesome. Should I do the clap?”

  “Yeah, go ahead.”

  Dovid clapped his hands, waited for Rachel’s answering finger snap to signal she was ready, counted to five in his head, and then opened his mouth.

  “Hey, guys! This is Don’t Look Now with Dovid and Rachel. I’m Dovid, Rachel’s behind the camera, and today we are reviewing The Sweet Spot, a cafe bistro specializing in desserts. They have other food,” he added, “but mostly Rachel is interested in the desserts.”

  “Dovid, come on, eyes on the prize.”

  “I don’t even have eyes. You can’t tell me what to do.”

  “Dovid.”

  “Okay, okay. Anyway, yes, The Sweet Spot. As always, I’m going to review on the three things I find most important when picking an eatery.” He held up three fingers. “One! The atmosphere. The sounds, the smells...is it an appetizing place to eat? Obviously, I can’t comment on the decor, but that’s Rachel’s job to show you. Two! The food. Duh—Rachel, don’t say it!” He heard her snort, then cleared his throat. “The food. Since that’s a huge part of any place to eat. And three, accessibility. Is there a weird stoop at the door that I have to be aware of? Are the tables and chairs spaced far enough apart that I can get around easily and by myself? What about the restroom? Though for that one, we didn’t get a private meal at this place, so I can’t actually show you the restroom, sorry, guys, but I will, of course, describe in detail. All that and more, coming up.” He stopped talking, waiting for Rachel.

  “Camera’s paused,” she said a second later. “Ready to head over?”

  Dovid nodded. “Yup. Let’s do this.”

  Due to the busy, populated, and close-together storefront setup of downtown Seattle, they often weren’t able to film right outside of the building they were visiting. Today, for instance, they were positioned across the street, The Sweet Spot in the background. So Dovid had to go back down the block to the crosswalk, cross the street, and then pick his way along using his cane until Rachel let him know he’d reached the right place.

  She filmed b-roll with his mic off as he walked. “Okay,” she said after a few minutes. “Door’s about two steps to the left.” Dovid nodded, then turned his mic back on. When he wasn’t doing a video and had Rachel or someone else by his side, he often let them just hold the door open so he could go on in. But this was, again, partly about accessibility.

  “Okay,” he said as he got to the door and felt for the handle to open it up. The door swung inward. “First of all, there’s no bump or anything on the stoop, it’s all smooth. Nothing to trip on or get a wheelchair stuck on, so that’s a plus.” He put his arms out on the doorway. “And the doorway’s a decent width. A chair shouldn’t have a problem. So far so good.”

  Once he got into the actual cafe though, the problems started. Especially since he heard Rachel’s quiet “uh-oh.” He pushed on, tapping forward.

  “Hi,” from a female-sounding voice. “I’m Bernice. How many
am I seating today?”

  “Two,” Dovid said.

  “And would you like a booth or table?”

  “Booth, please.”

  “Okay! Just follow me.” And then an uncertain pause.

  Dovid wasn’t going to count that as a strike against the cafe. “If you could talk to me and walk slowly, I should be able to follow you just fine.”

  “Um, okay, sure. What should I talk about?”

  “Anything you want. Something you find interesting. Or tell me about your favorite foods here.”

  “Alright, uh, sure.” The hostess launched into a mini-speech about the cafe’s specials, focusing on a couple different desserts that were house favorites. Dovid followed along with his cane.

  But he kept bumping into chairs. The tables were very close together, and it was hard to navigate with a cane. And a wheelchair certainly would have an even harder time. Bernice was walking pretty fast too. Dovid found himself trying to hurry up to follow her, and he actually bumped into a chair—with someone sitting on it.

  “Excuse me!”

  “Sorry, sorry,” he said, pulling his hand back. “I didn’t see you.”

  A falter, probably as the stranger took in his glasses and cane. “Oh, uh, that’s okay.”

  “Sorry,” he said again, before finally being seated at the booth Bernice led them too.

  “I’m really sorry about that,” Bernice said. “I didn’t think...um.”

  Dovid nodded, accepting the apology. “Thanks for showing me to the booth.”

  “You’re welcome. Your server will be with you momentarily.”

  “Okay.”

  As soon as Bernice’s footsteps faded, Dovid turned so he was sitting straight in his seat.

  “Am I facing the camera?”

  “Yeah, and it’s on the tripod. Go ahead.”

  Dovid counted to six in his head to give Rachel editing leeway, then said, “So that was a negative for The Sweet Spot. The aisle was plain too narrow for me to get through easily on my own. Which also means it’d be even harder to have someone side-by-side leading me along. And I don’t know exactly how wide the aisle was because I couldn’t see it, but it really didn’t seem like a chair would be able to maneuver comfortably either. Now, our hostess might not have been thinking and there was a wider path she could have shown us, but I can only judge what I got.” He waited a few more seconds then, to Rachel, “We’ve got to edit out the part where she shows her face, and play music over her talking. I don’t want her to get into trouble.”