Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Cat
A week later, I have a laptop, a desk, a handful of coworkers I’m already friendly with, and a bunch of texts from Sally—yet still no official word from Andi Zhang. Instead, I’ve spent my hours between nine and five polishing up codex entries (basically, the game’s encyclopedia for lore-hungry players), which is fine but not nearly as exciting as what Philo got my hopes up about. Namely, romance.
As a result, I’m so busy plotting how I’ll get Andi to give me a goddamn chance that I don’t notice either Lou or our rescue cat Stray enter the kitchen of our two-bedroom apartment until they’re both nearly on top of me. “When were you gonna tell me?” Lou says, pitching his car keys on the counter.
What is he talking about? Shifting my dinner (a Kraft Single layered on top of a pile of steamed broccoli) out of the way, I narrowly avoid stepping on Stray’s tail.
“Cat Li,” Lou states, all seriousness. “When. Were you. Gonna tell me?”
“Tell you what?” I ask somewhat irritatedly, my mind still on Andi and her cheekbones and her stupid, stupid hair.
“About the second date!” Lou explodes.
Oh. That’s right. He and Sally are coworkers. I should be crowing over making Lou sweat, however inadvertently, but I can’t help wondering if he’s worked up because he knows something I don’t. There wasn’t a ton of chemistry between Sally and me when we got lunch earlier this afternoon. What if afterward, she went back up to the office and confided to Lou that she’s thinking about ending things?
Avoiding his gaze, I make accidental eye contact with Stray instead, who is definitely judging me for my sorry excuse for a dinner. Don’t hate , I think. Just because you turn your nose up at everything but five-dollar-a-can Fancy Feast. Who knew rescues could be such picky eaters?
The cat flicks her tail and wanders off.
“Well?” Lou pushes. “How’d it go?”
“Okay,” I hedge.
“Okay?” Lou punches the air, and I fall back a step. He’s a big guy, albeit a total gentle giant, and with both of us crowding our tiny galley kitchen, there’s barely enough room to turn around. “That’s all you have to say?”
Still wary, I work my jaw around an undercooked broccoli stem. “Y-yes?”
“Yes? Yes? ” Swiping me into a hug, Lou knocks my bowl straight out of my hands and onto the stove, spraying our backsplash with cruciferous sprigs. “You silly goblin, why are you being so cagey? You know Sally called you a great listener today?”
Freeing myself from Lou’s grasp, I scrape what remains of my dinner into my mouth using the stovetop spoon rest. Around a mouthful of florets, I take in what Lou’s implying.
Sally talked to Lou about our second date. And not in a How do I break the news that I’m just not that into her way but in a She has positive qualities way. Which means … maybe … she’s not planning on dumping me?
This pretend you’re a fictional character romancing another fictional character approach is panning out way better than I would’ve guessed.
I don’t think she likes video games, though. In fact, yesterday night, when I shyly brought up playing It Takes Two together at some point, she left me on read for several long hours before changing the topic to a true crime docuseries she’s seen but I haven’t.
“Hello?” Lou dangles a bag of Takis in front of my face. “Earth to Cat?”
I shake my head. “Why do you care so much anyway?” I tease, mostly to get my mind off how I’m not totally feeling it yet with Sally. Objectively, she’s near perfect, so why aren’t the slumbering butterflies in my chest getting the memo?
“Puh-lease,” Lou says with a flick of his wrist. “I’m asexual, not aromantic. Either way, I’m allowed to get excited about you finding your person. The Peach to your Mario. The Zelda to your Link. The Aerith to your … what was the name of that dude in that terrible Final Fantasy movie you made me watch? With the spiky hair?”
“Cloud,” I supply. “That’s a contentious one. What about Tifa?”
“The Aerith to your Tifa, then.”
I laugh. As annoying as Lou is, he’s also one of two friends I have here in Colorado. And like any good friend, he knows how to piss me off and crack me up within the same breath.
“Good callback,” I say, heading for the front door. “Glad to see some of my social leprosy rubbing off on you. Gotta bounce.”
“Hang on, where are you headed this time of night?” Lou asks. “You aren’t going on a date with someone else, are you? Actually, don’t tell me. I don’t want to deal with any more moral dilemmas at work than I already have on my plate.”
Lou looks so mortified at the fact that I have plans on a weeknight that I pause in shoving my feet into my shoes. “I’m not cheating on Sally, if that’s what you’re getting at, although given we’re not official, you can pull that wedgie out of your conscience right now.” I resume jamming my toes forward in the vain hope I won’t have to bend over and risk throwing out my hasn’t-touched-a-yoga-mat-in-a-decade lower back.
“Then where …?”
Conceding defeat, I squat and yank at my shoes’ heel tabs. “Work. Frickin’ Andz—sorry, Andi ‘I wrote Aftermath and therefore I shit mithril bricks’ Zhang—is ‘too busy’ to meet except for between the minutes of 7:03 PM and 7:05 PM .”
“Really?” Lou asks.
I flip my eyes toward the ceiling. “If I’m exaggerating, it’s only by a little.” Despite a week of me sending her emails, Andi hasn’t responded to a single one. So much for giving her the benefit of the doubt. “Can’t blame her for not making time for me, though. She’s got a stick so far up her ass she probably spends most of her waking hours looking forward to her next enema.”
“Wow,” Lou says, shoving a handful of Takis into his mouth like he’s eating popcorn. “You must really hate this person. You don’t rip into people like this … ever. At least not outwardly.”
“I don’t hate her,” I retort. “She’s fine. She’s talented. And apparently very, very busy.” As if that gives her any right to ignore me like I’m Animal Crossing wallpaper. Today, I went so far as to smile and wave as I walked past her in the hallway. Andi didn’t so much as blink.
It’s hard to believe that only a week ago, I looked up to her.
Lou arches one bushy eyebrow. I can feel his pointed look all the way down on the floor, where I’m still wrestling with laces and tongues and why haven’t humans evolved to go shoeless anyway? Literally every other animal in the world has figured it out. Why do we suck?
“Fine,” I shout when I finally straighten. “I maybe dislike her a little bit. But she acts like she’s god’s gift to gaming and she ghosted me all week, only to send me a fifty-page Google Doc yesterday with the note ‘plz print x5.’ Spelled with a z .”
“Oh, well, we can’t have that,” Lou deadpans.
I ignore his sarcasm. He clearly doesn’t know how condescending it feels to be treated like a secretary. Or maybe he does, since he’s a lawyer, but anyway, the point is, just because I have less experience writing and designing games than Andi doesn’t mean I deserve to get treated like the unpaid summer intern who’s also the spoiled nephew of some VC investor. Not to mention, secretarying is hard! It’s a legit profession and not at all something I’m good at.
“Anyway, I threw time on her calendar for tonight. I’m going to share some ideas I have for how we can build the romance in Compass Hollow .” I’ll get Andi to give me a chance to prove myself, even if it kills me. I can’t afford to squander this opportunity. Turning this gig into a full-time position is my best shot at proving to the Great Sadie Li, my parents, and myself that I made the right move leaving accounting behind.
“Ooh, so you two will be building romance together. On a weeknight, no less. Almost sounds like a date,” Lou says with a smirk and a shimmy. “I stand corrected: you don’t hate Andi at all.”
Slivering my eyes at Lou, I decide then and there that I’ll be spending the rest of the week eating every last Taki in the apartment. I will give myself heartburn to deprive him of his favorite salty, spicy snacks. Revenge is a dish best served with a glaring absence of red 40.
By now, I’ve managed to get both shoes on my feet and my phone, wallet, and keys in my pocket. I’m about to grab the front doorknob when Lou nudges my shoulder. “Forget something?” he asks, a shit-eating grin smeared across his happy face.
I look down. He’s holding out a stack of 8 ⒈／⒉ by 11s. Instantly, my face erupts with heat. It’s the script Andi sent me. I printed it out because of course I did, even spent a solid hour in Staples plumbing the mechanical depths of tray two.
“Shut up,” I say as I heft the door open.
“Have fun!” my roommate and newest archnemesis singsongs behind me.
I snort mirthlessly. Have fun. As if anyone could have fun around Andi Zhang.