8. Critical Hit on My Heart
As I stepped closerto the chic restaurant where I was supposed to meet Everett for the first time without the veil of our online avatars, my nerves buzzed electrically. My heart raced with the mingled thrill and terror of finally revealing myself as Rachel, not just HuntraTheRed. Tonight was supposed to bridge my two worlds, to bring them into a harmony I’d longed for. Yet, as I neared the entrance, I caught the tail end of a conversation that sliced through all my built-up fantasies with the sharpness of a knife.
“… I appreciate you putting in a good word for me to get this job opportunity, Emily, and I’m definitely interested,” Everett’s voice carried from the slightly ajar door, his tone mixed with a hint of reservation. “But the last time I saw Rachel was with you in DC, and she acted really strange. She saw me and immediately ran off. Then, every time after that, she just got all shy, smiled at me, and blushed a lot.”
I stood frozen, my breath caught in my throat as I unwittingly eavesdropped.
“I think she has a crush on me,” Everett continued, his voice tinged with concern. “And the fact that she flew all the way out here just to recruit me for her project… It makes me worried, Emily. I don’t want to hurt your friend’s feelings, but she’s just not my type.”
The words stung more than I expected. Each syllable was a needle pricking at the balloon of hope I hadn’t even realized I’d been inflating.
“She’s great, don’t get me wrong,” he went on, his voice softening as if he were trying to cushion the blow for an unseen listener. “But Rachel’s not what I’m looking for. I’m attracted to someone who’s a bit more… I don’t know, laid-back? Less intense about everything. Rachel’s energy can be a bit much for me.”
My heart sank with each word, the pieces of his perception of me assembling into a painfully clear picture.
“I’m here to meet Huntra, not get tangled up with Rachel,” he finished, the finality in his voice echoing through the cramped hallway. “I’ll meet with her because it’s the polite thing to do. But after that, my focus is all on Huntra tonight.”
Leaning against the cool wall just outside the room, I could still feel the echo of Everett’s words like a relentless wave crashing against the shores of my self-esteem. My heart was a cacophony of hurt, rejection ringing in my ears with every beat. “She’s not my type…” The words circled in my mind, a mantra of inadequacy that chipped away at the armor I had carefully built around my persona as Huntra.
Not my type.
The phrase was a blunt reminder of all the times I felt like I didn’t quite fit—the odd one out in a family of picture-perfect expectations, the nerdy girl in a world that valued beauty over brains, the gamer girl who couldn’t quite shake off the shadows of doubt that trailed every achievement with whispers of not being enough.
Not my type…
Why did it sting so much? Was it because I had allowed myself to hope, foolishly, that Everett could see beyond the digital facade to the real, flesh-and-blood woman beneath? Or was it the realization that no matter how many dragons I slayed in the virtual world, I couldn’t conquer the beasts of rejection and inadequacy in the real one?
I slid down against the wall, my body feeling as heavy as my heart. The coolness of the floor seeped through my shirt, a striking difference to the warmth of the tears that threatened to spill over. Each breath was a battle, and with every inhale, I fought the urge to let the pain consume me.
Not my type…
The words repeated, each iteration a hammer to my already fracturing sense of worth. In a world where I had always felt just a little too much, a little too intense, a little too enthusiastic, a little too much, it was a cruel irony that here, too, I was too much—or perhaps not enough—of what Everett wanted.
I needed to gather myself, to piece together the fragments of my pride, and walk back into the light, where I wasn’t just Rachel, but HuntraTheRed—fierce, fearless, and undeterred by the dragons of doubt and rejection.
But first, I had to stand up, wipe away the tears, and face the world as if my heart hadn’t just been shattered by a simple, cutting truth.
Not my type…
I had my answer.
At least I knew now. Before I had to face him. At least I could save some of my dignity.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, I pushed the door open and stepped inside, my mind a whirlwind of hurt and rejection. The vibrant interior of the restaurant conflicted with the turmoil inside me. Every step felt heavier as I approached the table where he sat.
Everett looked up, his face transforming into a polite smile as he recognized me. “Rachel! Good to see you. I was just talking with Emily about you.”
“Hi, Everett,” I said, my voice a mask of calm I didn’t feel.
We sat, the table between us laden with unspoken words. I forced myself to focus on why I was there. “I wanted to talk about the VR therapy project I’m working on,” I started, hoping my voice didn’t betray the chaos of emotions within. “TherTech is interested in bringing you on as a consultant.”
Everett’s professional curiosity outweighed his earlier dismissal. “That sounds interesting. Tell me more about what you’re envisioning.”
“So, I’ve been working on something big,” I began, trying to channel all my nervous energy into excitement about the project. “It’s a VR therapy program designed to help veterans with PTSD. I’m partnering with Heroes Quest, and we’re looking for consultants who really understand both the game and the needs of veterans.”
Everett’s expression shifted from polite interest to genuine intrigue. “That sounds amazing, Rachel. PTSD recovery is something I deeply care about, especially after… well, I was just let go from my job where I worked with veterans. This could be the perfect next step.”
The coincidence startled me, adding a layer of complexity to our interaction I hadn’t expected. “I’m sorry to hear about your job,” I said sincerely. “But yes, your experience could be invaluable. We’re incorporating gaming elements familiar to veterans, using scenarios that offer both challenges and therapeutic benefits.”
“That’s brilliant.” Everett’s earlier detachment was forgotten. “Games were a huge part of my recovery. They helped me when I felt most isolated.”
Encouraged by his enthusiasm, I continued, “Exactly, and that’s why I thought of you for this role. The plan is to also integrate this into existing gaming platforms, like Heroes Quest, to reach veterans where they’re most comfortable.”
Everett nodded, visibly excited. “You know, Huntra—the gamer I told you about—she’s actually based in San Francisco too. Being part of this project could also mean getting closer to her, which is a bonus.”
His mention of Huntra twisted something inside me, a sharp reminder of the divide between my two identities. I fought to keep my expression neutral, the pain of his words clashing with the need to remain professional.
“I’m really grateful you thought of me for this, Rachel,” he added, his tone sincere. “I’d love to be involved.”
“Of course,” I said, my voice thick with unspoken emotions. “We’ll send over the contract details soon. TherTech is really excited about the potential here.”
“Thank you, Rachel. This… it means a lot to me,” he said, his gratitude evident. “I can start whenever you’re ready for me.”
As he spoke, I wrestled with the bittersweet realization that my professional success tonight might have come at the cost of personal heartbreak. Everett was excited about the project and potentially being closer to Huntra tonight, oblivious to the fact that she and I were one and the same.
Nodding, I managed a weak smile. “You’re welcome, Everett. We’ll send you the contract details soon.”
He stood, offering a handshake that lingered just long enough to remind me of what could have been—a connection that was real and tangible. But the echo of his words from earlier formed an invisible barrier between us, cooling the warmth of his touch.
The weight of the moment pressed heavily upon me as I stood up. “Thank you, again,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, my eyes not quite meeting his. “I… have to go now.”
Everett nodded, his brow furrowed slightly as if sensing the shift in the air. “Of course. Thank you, Rachel. I look forward to working with you.”
The words were polite, professional, but as I walked away, the distance felt like miles. Each step was heavier than the last, a leaden dance away from the what-ifs and the might-have-been.
I pulled out my phone with a trembling hand. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, a message burning in my mind, a bridge I was about to burn.
Huntra: I’m so sorry but I can’t make it to dinner. Something came up.
I hit send before I could second-guess myself, sealing the decision with the finality of a digital whisper floating through the ether.
The cool night air hit me as I stepped outside, my heart a mess of tangled threads. The city lights blurred before my eyes, smeared by unshed tears as I navigated through the evening crowds, alone with my thoughts in the quiet that followed the door closing behind me.