Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Cat
For the second time in a month, I storm out of Heartrender with jet engines roaring in my ears. Heedless of the stares I’m attracting, I tear at my hair. Why do I keep slipping out of character around Andi frickin’ Zhang? Why can’t I keep it together, like I do around Philo, around Sally? I’d been doing so well too—asking her if she’d read Kelsi and whether she wanted me to start on Evaralin—when she threw me off with that easy, unhurried, downright provocative smile .
In that moment, my heart seized and stuttered, like an overworked muscle. I felt something inside me lift: hope, or at least relief, that we could level set and maybe—just maybe—get along.
Then she had to go and ask me to act normal .
I’ve never wanted to feel someone’s face sting against my hand so badly.
“What are you looking at?” I growl at a pigeon that’s gotten in my way. It startles and flutters a few feet, and I immediately regret my outburst. “Sorry,” I mumble. “It’s not your fault Andi Zhang is a shit widget.”
Even though I technically got what I wanted and I’ve definitely already eaten both lunch and dessert, I feel so crappy that I march into an artisan doughnut shop and impulse buy a dozen. Settling down at an open seat by the window, I people watch as I rage-munch my way through crullers and jellies, glazed twists and old-fashioneds. I don’t stop until I’ve taken a bite out of every item in my box and realize an openmouthed kid is watching me from down the bar. That’s right , I think in his direction. This is peak adulting.
Four weeks. That’s how much time I have to write as many romances as I can. I’d had at least eleven in mind—one for each of the eight potential party members plus three more with significant side NPCs—but given the timeline, I’ll be lucky if I can cobble together four really good arcs. The deadline … well, it’s inhumane is what it is. Almost like Andi wants me to fail. Which she does. She made that unequivocally clear.
At least I’m getting the same deadline as the rest of her team. And she’s taking on Spyglass herself, which theoretically eases my burden, although I was looking forward to tackling the half-orc rogue. Dane, a dagger dual wielder and a thief with a mysterious background, is slated to become one of the most prominent nonbinary characters in video game history. I’m more than a little bummed at missing out on the opportunity to write them, not least because Andi is sure to screw it up.
My phone dings. With sticky fingers, I tap on the text from Sally. Still on for tonight?
“Shit,” I say out loud. Date five. I nearly forgot.
Down the way, the boy gasps and covers his mouth. Turning away from him—the kid’ll learn soon enough that adulthood comes with such perks as all-you-can-afford doughnuts, cursing, and incurable warts disguised as bosses—I reply to Sally in the affirmative, then shoulder my way out the door. I need to write as much love as possible before my date in four and a half hours.
Too bad the second my butt hits my office chair, I’m interrupted by my parents FaceTiming me.
“Sulin, honey, we’re coming to visit Colorado for Thanksgiving!” my mom squawks by way of hello.
My dad crowds his face alongside hers into the six-inch display. “Is there a Costco near where you live, Kitty?”
The space between my temples spasms. Is this what a sugar crash headache feels like? No. I’ve had those before, and this is far worse. Launching to my feet again, I search for a quiet corner to hold this conversation in while fumbling with my headphones. “Sorry, what?”
“Is there a Costco—” my dad begins before my mom cuts him off.
“We feel terrible about what happened with Hawaii last year, so we want to make it up to you.” She inhales grandly. “And we want to meet this new girlfriend of yours!”
Girlfriend? Sally and I haven’t even held hands yet, let alone had the DTR talk. Ducking into a storage closet, I tuck myself between a cabinet of gaming controllers and a dead printer and whisper, “Mom, Dad, my girlfriend”—that word feels so weird on my tongue—“and I have only been together a few weeks—”
“Yes, a few weeks,” my dad clucks. “Solid performance.”
“Very solid,” my mom agrees. “What’s her name again? Sally? Seems you two are doing well.”
Heat, like a rash, scrawls up the sides of my neck. Should I tell them about our last date and how I played Jenga with a stack of pillows, then fell asleep? Absolutely not. Hedging, I say, “We’re doing … okay.”
“And she’s a lawyer! Just like your sister,” my mom crows. “Good catch.”
Bobbing his head, my dad parrots, “Good catch, yes, good catch.”
What am I, a pair of khaki overalls stuck in a fishing minigame? “Guys, I’m not sure—”
But my mom’s not listening. “We’re flying in the Wednesday before, so we’ll see you two for dinner that night, yes? And obviously the day of Thanksgiving as well.”
Clearing his throat, my dad chirps, “Do you have space in your apartment for Sadie and her family and Mommy and me?”
My eyes bug out. “Sadie’s coming too?”
My mom punches my dad in the arm. “Why are you so stupid, eh? We can’t stay with Sulin! She has a girlfriend now!”
“It’s not like we’re living together or anything,” I start.
“But you could be by Thanksgiving!” my mom shrills.
“Oh, okay,” my dad murmurs, chastened. “Well, then—know of any good hotel deals, Kitty?”
“Oh, someone is calling us,” my mom says. She holds the phone away from her to squint. A heartbeat later, her entire demeanor brightens. “It’s your sister. Okay, talk to you later, Sulin. Love you.”
“Love you, Kitty,” my dad echoes.
My mouth is still open with half-formed protests when the line goes dead.
Squeezing my head between my hands, I let a string of curses rip. Why does my family have to be so meddlesome ? Why can’t they just leave me alone? It’s not like I haven’t been trying on the dating front. I scoff. God knows I’ve been trying.
Picking up my phone, I navigate to my texts, tap on the thread I have going with Sally, and remind myself that not all is lost. As long as I can hold on to this relationship, everything will be fine. My parents will confirm that I have a girlfriend who’s human and real, Sadie will be elated that Sally and I are getting along, and I will skate through the worst holiday after Columbus Day without hearing yet another opinion on why I’m deficient at finding a partner.
Everything will be fine.
Getting up, I exit the storage closet and drop back into the world of Compass Hollow .
“What’s with the half-eaten doughnuts?” Sally says, flipping open the lid to the box on her kitchen counter. I sawed off and ate the bits with the bite marks before bringing the remainder over.
“Extras from the office.” It’s not quite a lie. They were in the office at some point today.
For date five, we’re back at Sally’s place, presumably for more episodes of the crime drama we started together. It’s not the most exciting agenda, but I don’t mind; the less we talk, the less likely she is to figure out I’m a total loser. Although eyeing her couch, I note that her throw pillows are back in their respective corners. Drats. Now I’ll have to furtively arrange them between us again.
“Weird that no one took a whole one.” Helping herself to a third of a bear claw, Sally hip checks the fridge and offers me a glass of chilled white wine.
I shake my head. “Migraine.” That’s what I get for staring at a screen all day. I popped two ibuprofen before driving over to Sally’s place, but they’re taking their sweet time kicking in. “How was your day?”
“Eh. Fine.” She dives into a story about her direct report—“He grew up in the rich part of Connecticut and definitely has a chip on his shoulder about his privilege”—and how he’s been consistently disrespecting her authority. “He keeps on ‘accidentally’ giving status updates to my male coworkers instead of to me, even though I’m his boss. It’s infuriating.”
I nod and hum along. I’m sympathetic to her plight, but leveraging my mental dialogue tree for simple conversations like this is getting easier and easier these days, and at least thirty percent of my brain is still in the Azimuthian Woods with Evaralin and Sentinel. (I decided to get a head start on the next pairing while waiting for feedback from my manticore of a boss.) Evaralin is so combative when Sentinel first meets him that I’m having trouble figuring out how to defrost their relationship toward something more than begrudging friendship. Should they have a rivalmance or something more tentative and slow-burn?
Sally finishes her story-cum-rant and her bear claw in the same breath. Leading the way to the living room, she asks, “Anyway, thoughts on what we should do tonight?”
The same thing we do every night … try to take over the world. Ignoring this unhelpful suggestion from my six-year-old self, I punt. “Hm? I assumed the plan was to watch TV while doing work again.”
“I was thinking we should do something together. Something you want to do for a change.”
Suddenly, I’m on high alert. Swallowing hard, I force a grin. “Maybe I just want to do what you want to do. Ever think about that?”
Sally laughs, albeit with a hint of uncertainty. “Maaaybe. But I can’t get over feeling like we’ve been on, what, four dates at this point?” Five , I mentally correct her. “And I still don’t know very much about you.”
My grin fades. This is bad. Now that my parents and sister are coming to Colorado for the expressed purpose of meeting Sally, I need to sink my claws into this relationship with all twenty fingers and toes. Otherwise, Thanksgiving will be painful. No, not just painful. Intolerable.
“Is there anything you want to watch? Or, I don’t know, a museum you want to hit up? A hike you want to do? I know it’s already too late for both of those things tonight, but we could always plan ahead for this weekend. My exes have told me I can get a little … self-centered, but I don’t want to be that person, so this is me, trying to be better.”
I nearly scoff. Here Sally is, trying to be “better,” when by all objective measures, compared to me, she’s already perfect. Meanwhile, I’m going into a tailspin trying to come up with one activity, any activity, we could do together that doesn’t include a controller. I rack my exhausted brain for what I’d write if we were in a video game, but all I can come up with is sparring naked in the courtyard or having a perfect tea party together. Somehow, neither proposal seems appropriate.
“You got any ideas?”
Turning, I cast my gaze around Sally’s apartment. Her shelf grabs my attention. It’s crammed full of potted plants and old law school textbooks, but at the bottom, there’s a red hardcover with the title Player’s Handbook . A lightbulb goes off in my head.
“You’re a barbarian!”
“Huh?”
I wince. I’m pretty sure somewhere in the handbook for Dating 101 is the tip “Thou shalt not call the woman you’re trying to woo a barbarian.”
“What I mean is you’re a tiefling barbarian in your D in exchange, over Thanksgiving, I pretend to be your girlfriend around your family.”
“Even Sadie?” I clarify without missing a beat.
Sally dips her head. “Even Sadie.”
I gnaw on my lower lip. What Sally’s suggesting sounds too good to be true. I get to play D&D for the first time and have air cover for when the rest of the Lis come to visit? There has to be a catch, right?
“W-why help me?” I ask.
Sally’s cheeks go bright pink. “Because—” Breaking off, she presses her knuckles to her forehead. “Because I want to piss off my ex, who’s also my dungeon master, okay? Since she and I split, I haven’t dated anyone even remotely interested in my D&D hobby. You’re the first person who’s bothered to ask.” Crossing her arms, she sniffs. “How’s that for puerile?”
My left eye twitches. Maybe Sally isn’t as perfect as I thought. And who is this ex she keeps talking about? Deciding it doesn’t matter, I ask, “Are you trying to win her back?”
“Not really.” Sally shrugs. “I just want to make her a little jealous. Technically, we’re friends, but I’m still annoyed at the way she left things with me. She basically dropped off the face of the earth for three months without telling me.”
This time, I let my eyes shoot up. Whoever this ex is, she sounds like a Bad Person, and while I’m no hero in real life, there are few things I like more than taking down Bad People.
“Thoughts?” she prompts.
It’s a far cry from the relationship I want—something incandescent, electric, and stomach-droppingly swoony—but it’s better than nothing. Certainly better than needing to admit to my parents and sister that once again, I’m as single as Andi wants Sentinel to be.
Turning the page on the book between us, I say, “Show me how to create a character.”