Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter
Twenty-Four
“I think Wesley might actually be evil,” Colin muses. “Vadrien must have rubbed off on him.”
“For ending us on that brutal cliff-hanger last week?” I guess.
“That, and forcing us to sit outside until this game’s over. It feels like we’re in fucking Moros.” Colin squints up at the darkening sky above his apartment, shivering where he stands in his backyard.
He’s right; it’s not even 5 p.m., and the sun has completely disappeared.
I love living in New England, but every year, the daylight savings shift is like a punch to the gut, a foreboding omen for the long season to come.
I never get used to it—it always makes me feel like I need to brace for something.
Mona and Shay look equally grumpy where they sit on the deck, but Wesley just rolls his eyes. When he catches my gaze, he smiles and shakes his head.
Unofficial Sunday game night is starting to feel fairly official.
But instead of us winding down the weekend by logging in to an online game, Colin and Wesley graciously invited us to their apartment to play live.
Their first-floor unit comes with full use of a small but charming outdoor space, and we spent most of the late afternoon enjoying the fading rays of warm sunlight under a tree with that mid-fall bedraggled half-naked look.
Arthur had been invited, as always, but he’d preferred to spend the afternoon with Hana at a local orchard before all the trees were picked bare.
By now everyone’s cold and tired of the obscure poker variation Wesley insisted on playing. We’re all ready to head inside for a couch co-op game, but Wesley sits utterly still and considers his cards.
Shay casts an irritated look at our captor. She and I are the only two left who haven’t folded. “Wes—”
He holds up one hand and fans out his cards with the other. “After this last one, we can go in.” For the next ninety seconds, he makes a show of deeply considering his next move before the corner of his mouth ticks up in a small smirk.
He sets his cards face up—four grinning Kings; fitting—and in doing so, he wins the hand.
Shay huffs. “Okay, rude.”
“You let that drag out on purpose.” Colin doesn’t even make it sound accusing—if anything, he sounds impressed.
“I did. It’ll make you lot grow some thicker skin in more ways than one, eh?” Wesley barks out a gruff laugh. “It’s hardly winter.”
We file back into their apartment and settle in front of the TV. Colin claims more than half of the sectional, immediately stretching out his long legs, and Mona and Shay snuggle into the cushions that are left, leaving the secondary love seat for me and Wesley.
When I fold into the couch, Wesley reaches to curl his fingers over my thigh on instinct. For a reason I can’t name, I feel my lungs seize, and I bolt back to standing.
“I forgot to grab a drink,” I say quickly. “Do you—do you want anything?”
Wesley pauses, then casually folds his hands in his lap. His expression is unreadable. “I’m good, thanks.”
I blink rapidly as I make my way into the kitchen and open the fridge. I almost jump out of my skin when I feel a hand on my shoulder, but when I turn, I see that it’s Shay.
“Hey.” Her expression is less guarded than usual; she’s smiling a little. “I finished playing Afterwards.”
“Wait, really?”
Wesley and Mona—separately—had been encouraging me to share the game with the other members of our crew.
After all, everyone’s played Blood Pact, and Mona loved it so much that she got sheepish when I asked her which she liked better.
I acquiesced, but only a little—I shared it solely with Shay for now.
“Really.” Shay nods. “It’s beautiful, Reagan.”
I don’t know why I’m suddenly uncomfortable—probably because Shay’s eyes have gone soft and gentle and just a little bit pitying. “Ramona told me the backstory behind it,” she goes on. “And I think it’s lovely how you turned the story around.”
I feel the sour burn of betrayal for a moment, that Mona shared something personal to me with Shay. But then I remember just how personal and hurtful the whole experience was for Mona, too—it’s not mine alone. They were our friends.
“I…” I spin the beer can I retrieved from the fridge between my palms. “Thank you, Shay. Thank you for playing it.”
“Of course.” She leans close enough to whisper, “I liked it better than Blood Pact.” She straightens and laughs. “But I also love puzzle games.”
“I, too, like puzzle games!” Colin calls over his shoulder. “You know. Whenever you feel like sharing.”
Wesley laughs. “Is she still holding out on you?”
“Of course. Reagan still holds the first day we met against me. I think this is punishment,” Colin says.
I scoff dramatically. “Only because you were being fucking weird, dude.”
He jabs a finger at me over the back of the couch. “Yeah, but that’s just how I am before I get to know someone! You thought I was being sexist!”
Shay turns toward me, her brows arched. “Did you really?”
“What the hell else was I meant to think?” I laugh. “He suggested we weren’t cut out for such a brutal, high-level game. Asked us, like, three times if we were sure we were up for it.”
Shay plants her hands on her hips. “Colin!”
He lifts his hands in the air and splays them wide.
“Hey, now, it wasn’t like that! You told me to save one seat for your girlfriend, and I didn’t know what she looked like.
Then this scary lady wearing black pleather on a Sunday fucking morning marches in and demands to join the roster, and—I was just being protective of my friends, see?
” He jabs that finger at me again. “You scared me.”
Mona’s doubled over giggling, and Wesley’s face is caught somewhere between an odd wistfulness and a half grin. Shay shoots me a teasingly suspicious sidelong look.
I spread my hands outward. “Okay, fine, my mistake—but it was an honest one, okay? A miscommunication. I know you better now.” I pause, then offer an olive branch. “I’ll send you Afterwards.”
Colin snaps his fingers. “Good. We’re all cheering for you. Or, well, both of you, as awkward as it is. So one of you had better win.”
Wesley and I smile briefly at each other. I sit back down next to him, and this time, he doesn’t try to touch me again.
Shay’s gaze flashes between us. “What will you do?” she asks. “If you win.”
Even before I turn my head, I can feel his eyes on me. “Huh,” he murmurs. “I can’t believe I haven’t asked you that yet.”
I haven’t asked him, either. I’ve barely asked myself.
I blink a few times and clear my throat. “I mean—I’ll finish the game, I suppose. I’ll probably do that no matter what happens, but with the prize money and extra resources, I guess I’ll finish…faster?”
Colin laughs a little into the sudden silence that follows my dull answer, and Wesley regards me critically. “You won’t do another competition?” he asks. “Or try to take it to the next level?”
I shrug. “I haven’t thought that far,” I say. Wesley’s gaze is suddenly so intense, so focused, that I know the answer to my question before I ask it. “Have you?”
“Of course. There’s all sorts of things I’d do.
I’d try to find a publishing partner, or a group of people who would want to help me launch it and make it better.
Or maybe the buzz from the competition will help me make connections, so I can find my next position.
” He lets out a laugh that sounds only a bit forced.
“I can’t work with Art forever, and I don’t want to.
I need a job. Winning this will help me find what’s next. ”
There’s no good explanation for why my energy seeps out of my fingertips, leaving my chest feeling hollow like a deflated balloon.
I feel shitty. For me, this competition has been all about the race, and I’ve been careless about the destination. It just meant something for me to be able to run again. But for Wesley, it’s clearly more than that.
And the destination might take him a lot further than it would me.
I don’t know when this conversation became just between us, but when I glance around at the others, they’re all looking elsewhere. Mona is biting her lip and looking intently at something Shay’s showing her on her phone, while Colin has turned on his console and is queuing up Mario Kart for us.
Wesley still has his eyes fixed on me. While their heads are turned, he presses the side of his knee against mine. “Hey. What is it?”
But I just smile, close-lipped.
“May the best game win,” I say weakly.
“Sorry—you’re playing D if I don’t leave soon, I’ll be late to the game. I wince. “I really didn’t think all my drama would take up this much time,” I say. “We haven’t even talked about your job. Is it any better?”
“Oh! Honestly, I might quit soon.”
“What? But you just found this one. Why—”
“Hold on.”
Her eyes go unfocused for a second, like she’s checking some notification on her phone. Her face creases. “Ah, shit. I’ve got to take this. Can we chat again soon? I have so much to tell you, and I’ve got to hear more about your…situation.”
I laugh. “Of course.”
She pauses for a moment, her expression sobering. “But tell me the truth—are you really serious about this NEWT stuff, Reagan?”
This question has haunted me all week, especially after Sunday’s game night. It’s kept me up late as I key in more code to the game, wondering where this road will lead me and whether it’s worth it. But despite not knowing the why yet—
“Yeah,” I say. “I am.”
Her eyes sparkle. “Well. Watch your email, and we’ll talk more soon, okay?”
“Email? What for?”
But she’s already waving and blowing kisses at the screen. “You’ll see! Gotta run!”
I shake my head, amused. “Miss you.”
“Yeah, yeah, miss you, too. Now go kiss your Dungeon Master, or seduce the villain, or whatever the fuck it is you do.”
She hangs up before I can tell her how close she came to hitting the mark.