Chapter 5 #2
“It’s OK, honest,” I interrupt her and force myself not to look at her lips. Because even though it’s not OK now that I know who she is, I don’t want her to feel bad. It’s not her fault that she can’t use her room, and she might not even be aware of what her boss did.
The room is half the size of my entire shared flat, and the bed alone probably costs one month’s worth of our rent, if not more.
The paintings on the walls are set in luxurious frames, and the view out the windows during the day must be breathtaking—right now, individual lanterns cast pools of light throughout the gardens, but other than that, it’s pitch-black.
I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen this kind of darkness looking out of a window; maybe never.
And there’s not a single sound coming in from outside.
Compared to the noise we have to put up with in Camden, this is a blessing.
“Wow,” Lara echoes my thoughts. “Sometimes I forget how much money there is in the gaming industry.”
“Me too. Every time I look at my paycheck, for example.”
Lara bursts out laughing and nods. “I thought your studio paid decently. Lawless must have brought in a ton of money. Isn’t part two coming out soon?”
“Yep. But I’m not on the main team of Bytes I’ll sleep here.”
Lara’s hazel eyes widen as she shakes her head vigorously. “No way, I’m not taking the bed from you too. I’m sleeping on the sofa.”
“No, out of the question,” I reply. “My parents raised me well, so . . .” I grab her suitcase and drag it over to the small bench by the end of the enormous bed covered in thick blankets and pillows. “Go on, get comfy. I’m so tired right now, I could sleep anywhere.”
Lara’s about to respond, but I simply turn around and start pulling things out of my rucksack.
My laptop ends up on the small sofa table, and my washbag next to it.
Fortunately, for once, I have trousers with me for sleeping.
If I hadn’t, my invitation would have been doubly awkward.
“I’ll just get ready for bed then,” I say and disappear quickly.
The bathroom is enormous too with its gigantic, sprawling bathtub, separate shower, and two sinks.
An elongated mirror shows me that I look about as stressed out as I feel.
At least the dark shadows on my face have disappeared—though they’ll surely be back by tomorrow.
I have no clue how I’m supposed to get a wink of sleep with Lara in the room with me.
I’d been bracing myself to compete against PixelPulse, but against Lara?
Against the weird feeling in my stomach when I’m around her, or the fact that she, of all people, has to be my opponent?
With a snort of frustration, I pull my mobile from my jeans pocket and open my chat with Maleek.
Luca: I’m in a fix.
Maleek: Why? Drink too much at the networking do?
Luca: If only. Long story, but I offered to share my room with the PixelPulse participant.
Maleek: Sophia Richards is crashing at your place?!
Luca: No, a woman called Lara. She’s representing Sophia, but I didn’t realize at the time.
Maleek: Ahahahahaha.
Maleek:
Maleek: So you DID have too much to drink. Well? Do you have an enemies-to-lovers thing going on now?
Luca: How do you know “enemies to lovers”?
Maleek: Amanda convinced me to watch Bridgerton with her. But get to the point!
Luca: She’s sleeping in my room, not with me. And like I said, I didn’t know she was with PixelPulse.
I tell Maleek the whole story, trying not to think of the images he’s irredeemably placed in my head with his words. Still, my thoughts stray back to Lara’s lips and the smile she shared with me just now. Maybe I’m in a bigger fix than I thought.
Luca: Anyway, don’t want to kick her out now.
Maleek: Who said anything about kicking her out? Take advantage of the situation! Delete her demo from her laptop or something.
Luca: You’ve got to be kidding. Besides, no one’s as careless as you—people make backups.
Maleek: Relax, just kidding. But they would deserve it, since the idea is technically ours anyway. You should get to know her and find out what the flaws in her game are or how you can beat her.
Luca: I love how you don’t believe our game can win without slagging off others. What are we, politicians?
Maleek: It’s an indie horror game. The prize is being awarded by ministers of culture or something like that. Who do you think has a better chance? The demo with blood and gore in it or the one where you build a cute little library?
Luca: There’s not that much blood and gore . . .
Maleek: . . .
Luca: You’re right, fine.
Maleek: Don’t let her win. You’re competitors, not friends. We’ve been working on this project for years, mate.
With a sigh, I stow away my phone, bend over the sink, and splash cold water on my face.
Maleek is right. Lara mustn’t win. If it were up to Hank, I’d probably be doing exactly what he suggested: I’d figure out her weaknesses and use them to my advantage.
An eye for an eye. But something inside me is fighting that thought tooth and nail.
I believe in our game. I get that it’s niche and that it might look like a classic horror game at first glance, but there’s so much more to it: mental health, history, and an elaborate system that’s not just shooting and bloodshed.