Match Game: A Fake Dating Hockey Romance

11. Lydia

Pacing around the room is doing nothing to help calm me down from the ball of nerves I am feeling right now.

“Girl, you look hot as hell,” Kristian says. “Stop worrying so much.”

“I can’t,” I tell her, ready to pull my hair out, even though that will ruin the curls I spent all morning perfecting. I’m dressed in a blazer and a blouse that shows a hint of cleavage, and honestly, I haven’t felt this sexy in a long time. I didn’t dress this way to attract anyone, well, maybe except for Griffin, but if I was going to look like a bad bitch in a male-dominated industry, then by gosh, I’ll wear a top that might be a little tight, so the girls can peek through.

“You’re going to do great,” Kristian tells me, gripping me by the shoulders. “You’re going to get those donations secured, no problem.”

“All one hundred thousand of it?” I whimper.

“Okay, probably not,” she says. “But you have a bit of time to make that up! Think of this as a way for you to get ahead so that after the holidays, you can worry less about making up the rest. Plus, Griffin can totally act as arm candy around these stuffy donors.”

“Yeah, crossing my fingers,” I tell her. “You going to the happy hour tonight?”

“Hell yeah,” she says. “The one weekend where LGU gives its staff and alumni free alcohol? Plus, I think the people at campus dining would definitely give us a double pour because we’re staff.”

“I would hope so. We’re the ones stressing out, trying to impress everyone on behalf of the school.”

The year after I graduated, I was so gung ho to go to a Homecoming. I felt that hot girl energy, thinking to myself, “I’m a big adult who has that big girl job, and I can participate in things like networking mixers with free alcohol and talking about the working world.” Then I got older and still kept feeling that, but there became a point where things changed. I didn’t really have any friends who were still in school, and people were less enthusiastic about going back every single year. Now, with my staff ID and university-branded business cards, I have to put my best smile forward again for LGU and everything that it offers. Go Condors?

The room is quiet for a moment as I wait for people to come and visit. I spent the majority of yesterday just standing by the printer waiting for these brochures I designed to print on fancy glossy paper. I guess it’d be okay if no one came. Then I won’t need to shake myself out of a socially awkward funk.

Not long after, two couples come in and peer around the room.

“Hi!” I grin widely. I think my voice raises three octaves. “Welcome to LGU’s Esports Computer Lab.”

Each one of them are probably around my parents’ age, maybe slightly older. They all have mostly grey hair, or...no hair. I forget that my parents are about to turn sixty. So I guess these guys can’t be much older.

They peer around at the rows of computers, which all have a different game booted up for anyone to try. I walk up closer to give them a spiel about the setup if this whole “esports thing” is new to them.

“This is where members of our Esports Club and team can come to play various competitive multiplayer games with each other or other schools. Each desktop is equipped to run these games at blazing fast speeds, and we even have licensed gaming mice and keyboards that the pros use.”

“So when did this...club become a thing?” One of the ladies asks.

“Oh! Well, this year, we started a pro team. Kind of like athletics? We’re working to compete in tournaments with other schools and host one of our own.”

“But playing video games isn’t a sport.”

I hold my tongue. It’s okay, I rehearsed this. I have crafted the near perfect response to their skepticism.

“Actually, esports has recently been televised on networks like ESPN, and as it is two teams competing for entertainment, then it is, by definition, a sport.”

“But they’re not exercising,” someone else mentions. “It doesn’t require any physical energy.”

“Actually, it has been proven that you do burn calories while playing a video game.”

They stare at me like I’m spewing nonsense at them. Do you want me to show you a chart or something? You can still be doing physical activity even if you’re sitting in a chair!

“There are some sports that use different parts of the body. Esports require you to be quick with your hands. If you are interested, I’d be happy to walk through a game with you.”

They ponder the thought for a moment, but somehow, as a collective, they all agree that this is dumb, and they’d rather spend their time and their savings elsewhere.

“We are going to pass, actually,” a lady says in a sweet, sarcastic tone. “But this was...interesting. Thank you for showing us around.”

“Of course,” I smile. “I will be here for the next two hours if you have any questions.”

I slump in one of the gaming chairs. Two hours left? Of possibly the same routine of trying to tell people this is the shit and ending up deterring them away from it? Fuck this.

A bit of time goes by, and still some of the same type of people come in: old, presumably rich, decked out in LGU memorabilia and struggling to see why this should warrant their donation. And on top of that, I asked a few team members to come in and do a mock game for some of the attendees, but no one showed up. I know it’s difficult to ask students to make plans on a Saturday, but shouldn’t they be excited about this too?

As I’m about to sit down yet again, a family of four walks in, and I want to roll my eyes, certain that the same shit’s going to happen again, but I need to keep a smile plastered on my face.

“Hi there,” I beam. “Welcome to Los Gatos University’s Department of Esports Gaming!”

A boy, probably around middle school age, nudges his mom’s arm. “Mom, look, this is what I was talking about. I can play video games as a sport in college.”

“Is that true?” She asks, staring at me. Am I supposed to feel intimidated by her stare at this seemingly innocent yet seemingly accusatory question?

“Yes.” My nod turns into a near bow with how much force I’m exerting with it. “Yes, actually. We are fundraising money to give students the opportunity to receive scholarships to play competitive esports and have the opportunity to host and participate in tournaments with schools both in the Bay Area and around the country.”

“And students would be able to...receive scholarships for their tuition by being recruited for a team? Like how Athletics works?”

“Exactly.”

“Isn’t that cool, Mom? If I keep playing League, I can become good enough to be on a college pro team!”

“Yeah, but what about basketball, Mason? You like basketball, and you’re good at it!”

He throws his hands up. “But that’s the thing, Mom. I’m not that good at basketball. I score points, but I’m not as good as Jace or Adam, and that’s okay. But I can get a bunch of kills in League, and if I keep at it, I’ll be a shoo-in for when I’m thinking about college, and I can play for LGU.”

The mom looks at me as if I just brainwashed her child. But he’s right. Everything takes practice, and with enough of it, we’ll have a pool of players who are good enough to play esports at the collegiate level.

“Can I play a game here?” he asks, racing to the computer. “You can leave me here with...” He searches my face for a response respond.

“Lydia,” I answer him.

“Lydia. If you need to go and do other things.”

“Mason, I’m not leaving you here to...get you brainwashed by these computers.” She glares at me, and I try to keep my face positive and professional, even though I’m terrified of her and the aura she’s radiating right now.

“I can’t believe they spend our donations on this. Do you see what you did? Now my son thinks that he can make it big by playing on the computer all the time. He’s learning skills are going to go plunging down the drain!” Thank god her kid has earphones on right now.

“I...” Do I apologize? I want to because I want to be on everyone’s good graces, but I’m sick of how many times I’ve heard that this department is brainwashing children or how it’s not a sport. And I’m actually starting to get frustrated that Griffin promised me he’d be here, and he hasn’t showed up while I’ve had to suffer with people who don’t want to hear what I have to say.

“I can assure you that video games do not brainwash your child,” a familiar voice appears at the door. She turns around and almost trips over herself at who enters the room.

“Oh my god,” the younger kid standing next to her mom says. “It’s Griffin Markey!”

“Griffin Markey,” the dad stammers and stands straight up like he’s a deer in headlights. “It’s an honor to meet you. I didn’t know you were involved with the school.”

“Only recently. I thought I would come by to support my girlfriend while she’s working.”

“Girlfriend?” The mother squeaks. “This is who you’re dating?”

“Yeah,” he beams confidently. I blush a little. Even if it’s a front, hearing it warms my insides.

“Awesome.” The dad nods. “Yeah, I think I read somewhere that you were in a new relationship. How’d you two meet?”

“Online, actually,” Griffin notes. “We were matched in a video game together and actually got really close. Turns out we both live in San Jose, and I’ve enjoyed the time we’ve spent together since we started dating.” He looks down at me and grins, and I’m struggling to form any sort of response, so enamored by the way Griffin seems to say these things with such ease. And the way his eyes peer into mine. God, my heart is racing.

“Excuse me, Griffin?” The kid taps on Griffin’s wrist. “Do you think that we can play a game together?”

Griffin’s eyes widen a little. Guess he only thought he had to utter sweet nothings to these uptight alumni. “Hey, yeah, sure thing, buddy. Can I speak to Lydia first? And then I’ll hop right in.”

“Okay!” He skips back to his chair, and his parents sigh once they realize they definitely have no other choice but to sit and wait until Mason and Griffin are done with their game.

“Excuse us a moment,” Griffin tells Mason’s parents, pulling me aside to a corner of the room.

“Hey,” I begin.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” he cuts in. “I had made a note to get here right at one o’clock, maybe a little earlier, so we could walk through a game plan, but the container that my leftovers were in exploded in the microwave, and my smoke detector went off. I don’t have a fire extinguisher, so I made a note to order one, but long story short, I had to wait for the fire department to arrive, and it took longer than I thought to clean up, and I’m so sorry again, Lydia. I wanted to be here for you and for this, and I feel so bad that you had to do this by yourself for as long as you did.”

“Griffin,” I put my hand to his chest, then quickly retract it. I did not want to have it linger there for too long and grip those delicious pecs living under his button-down shirt. “It’s okay. I’m not mad. Are you okay? You literally just had a fire in your house.”

“I’m fine,” he reassures me. “I’m microwave-less and don’t trust containers that promise they’re microwave safe anymore, but I’m fine. Nothing in the house burned down, thankfully. How’s it been here? Besides that mom that thinks you’ve brainwashed her child.”

“More or less the same shit,” I sigh. “People come in, they look around, they think that what I have got going on is not really worth their time, and then they leave. I don’t know what to tell them that will convince them that we’re worth giving a chance.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. “But I’m here now. Put me to work!”

“Well, it seems like you’ve got a game queued up with a nice boy named Mason.”

“Yeah, but I can easily tell him that I’ve got other responsibilities that my girlfriend has set up for me.”

My heart flutters at the way the word girlfriend escapes his lips, and I lose my train of thought. “Um...I...can’t think of anything right now. Go have fun. You’re probably making this kid’s year by playing video games with him.”

“Okay.” He nods and grips both sides of my arms before giving me a peck on the cheek. My face goes red, and he steps back.

“Um...I did that for show,” he whispers. “You know, to look convincing.”

“Y-yeah. Totally. Thanks. I’ll let you know if anything comes up, okay?”

“Sounds good.” He skips over to Mason, who is practically jumping out of his seat when the game boots up, and they’re playing alongside each other.

“You know,” Mason’s mom slides up next to me, her face a little softer than when she accused me of essentially ruining her kid’s life. “He hasn’t been this excited about something in a long time.”

“Oh yeah?” I ask innocently.

“Yeah. I mean, it’s been tough. He’s been having a rough time at school, and wefound out he has ADHD, so we tried to figure out things that would be good for his focus. And we thought basketball would be it. He likes it, but he doesn’t show nearly as much excitement for it as he does video games. And we didn’t want him to spend so much time behind a screen because we thought it would do more harm than good. But he actually looks happy and invested in something.”

Mason shouts, “Oh my god I can’t believe I killed that guy!” and Griffin congratulates him with a high five.

“Good job, buddy,” he says, and I grin. I shake my head out of its trance once I realize that I’ve started thinking about how good he is with kids.

“So, I’d like to apologize,” the mom says. “I didn’t mean to come off so harsh. This is really cool, what you have going on here. And if all works out, I think our son would love to be a part of this when he goes to college. We want him to go to LGU, of course, but we’ll support him with whatever decision he makes.”

“Thank you.” I nod at her. “And it’s okay. It is a very new concept for a lot of people. That’s my job, to educate people on our ever-evolving world, and this is just one part of it.”

“Absolutely. You had some brochures out that mention something about donations?”

I sharply turn my head at her. “Yes?”

“I’d like to see if I can make a donation to the Esports Department.”

“Oh! That’s wonderful. Thank you so much. Here,” I lead her to a table I’ve set up my laptop on. “Just put esports in the text box on where you’d like your donation to go.”

“Excellent, thank you.”

Griffin looks up at me from his computer and gives me a thumbs-up. I stick mine up at him, and he smiles, going back to his game with Mason.

Suddenly, my phone vibrates, and I look at who’s calling me.

“Hey, Kris,” I answer. “What’s up?”

“Lydia. Be prepared. I am letting you know right now that the computer room is about to be flooded with people.”

I gasp. “What do you mean?”

“Word got out that Griffin’s there, and people want to see him. Someone must have said something about it, and everyone just got up and left from the fraternity open house. I’m just warning you, it is going to get very chaotic in there very quickly.”

“Great,” I respond. “Just...great.”

“You got this, Lids,” Kristian reassures me. “Just tell people they can’t have a photo or autograph from Griffin unless they hear your speech about donations.”

“You know, that’s not a bad idea,” I tell her. This shit shouldn’t come for free.

“You got this. I’ll see you after the open house.”

“Alright, thanks, Kristian. Sorry I stole everyone from FSL.”

“Eh, don’t be sorry. These kids have to learn how to fundraise for their own chapters. Talk to you later.”

And as soon as Kristian hangs up the phone, madness ensues. People rush into the room, and clearly, no one understands the meaning of personal space.

“Okay, hold on!” I chase after people who are coming in and trying to catch a glimpse of Griffin. They’re sitting next to him and trying to interrupt the game Griffin and Mason are in the middle of.

It makes my blood boil because it’s an absolutely horrible feeling to be suddenly bombarded by a swarm of people, and a fuse in me goes off, and my defensiveness go on full blast.

“Hey.” I push someone encroaching in on Griffin’s space. “I’m going to have to ask you to stop getting into Mr. Markey’s space until he’s ready to talk to you. If you don’t comply, then I have no problem calling campus security to escort you out.”

Griffin reaches over, grasps my hand on the table, and gives it a light squeeze.

“Uh, okay,” the man, a younger alumni, says. He gets up and walks backward to create space around where Griffin is sitting, and I start leading them back to the table where the donor information is.

“While you’re waiting to see Mr. Markey,” I continue. “May I suggest reading about our fabulous Esports Program?” I hand out the flyers to each person standing in line. “And maybe consider a donation to keep the program going.”

Once I am successfully able to maintain some line control, Mason and Griffin finish up their game, and Mason thanks me over and over again for the best thing that’s ever happened to him. His parents appreciate it, too.

“Okay.” Griffin comes up next to me. “How are we doing this?”

“How should we be doing this?” I ask him.

“Everyone can get a photo, but if you donate, you get an autograph?”

“I don’t want to force people to donate...” I tell Griffin. “But I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“I’ll do what I need to do. Don’t worry about me.”

Griffin stands next to the donor table, and I start ushering people in. Everyone’s being respectful now. They calmly walk up to Griffin, ask for a photo, and a few ask him to sign a piece of their Homecoming badge. People are also using their spot in line to go up to the computers and donate. I walk out of the room to see how long the line is, and it spans all the way down the hall, the stairs, and out the door of the student union.

“Holy shit,” I whisper. It looks like the entire campus might be standing in line for this.

“Hey,” Landon walks up to me, standing outside of the student union. “This all for Griffin?”

“Uh-huh,” I nod.

“Well then. I sure hope they donate for basically being at the right place at the right time.”

“Me too,” I tell him. I really did not think that there would be as big of a showing for Griffin, not like this, but it really shows how huge of a name he is and how, without him, I really would just be no one at all.