Chapter 5 #3
I squeeze the toothpaste onto my toothbrush a bit too vigorously.
I don’t want to win by putting others down.
Who says Lara isn’t just as passionate about her game as I am about mine?
If I win, it’ll be because I was able to convince the judges, not because of the obstacles I’ve put in my competitor’s way.
That scene at the bar earlier made it pretty obvious that she’s already having a hard time.
I don’t want to be as much of an arse as that wanker with the Guinness was.
I spit toothpaste into the sink, take a quick but refreshing shower, and pull on my gray pajama bottoms and a T-shirt.
Sleeping without a shirt on isn’t really an option now.
Then I return to the room—our room—where Lara is sitting on the sofa, contrary to my offer: laptop on her knees and fingers on her lips, staring straight ahead with absolute focus.
As I walk toward her, she glances up quickly to meet my eyes and gulps.
I suppose she’d rather be anywhere but here.
“I know you said I can have the bed,” she begins, raising a hand so I don’t interrupt her.
“But the sofa is far too small for you! I can just about fit on it myself.” She stretches her legs out to show me just how impossible it would be for me to fit, and I could kick myself for laughing.
The fuzzy feeling in my chest isn’t exactly helping. Blast it.
“Why don’t you let me worry about that?” I indicate the bed with a nod. “Come on now, you’re wasting my precious sleep.”
“You mean your stubbornness is wasting your precious sleep.” She’s grumbling, but I can understand her just fine, and I try hard to suppress another laugh. “No idea if I’ll be able to sleep yet. Would you mind if I leave the light on for a bit?”
“No, I was going to do a bit of work myself. And considering how tired I am, I could fall asleep standing up in full sunlight.”
“All right. And thanks. Coffee’s my treat tomorrow.”
“Since we do get it for free here, that doesn’t sound like a fair deal.” I pointedly pick up my laptop, and Lara gets to her feet with a sigh and puts hers down on the bed.
“Don’t come crying to me if your back hurts tomorrow,” she replies and then slinks off to the bathroom. She leaves her laptop behind—there it sits, open and unlocked, the screen glowing at me.
Is this a test? A trap? Did Sophia warn her against us too?
Does the animosity go both ways? Or is her boss no longer wasting a single thought on Bytes & Bits, and I’m being completely paranoid?
After Hank’s little speech, I researched her a little, and if I hadn’t known what was behind her success, I would have been impressed.
She supports women and queer folks in the gaming industry, runs a coding camp for children, and everything I’ve seen of Novel Haven so far looks amazing.
Unfortunately. But I know the story behind it.
It’s not just that the game is stolen—PixelPulse stole it from the man who gave Maleek and me a chance when no one else would. I know where my loyalty lies.
I drop down on the sofa, grab my laptop, and open the presentation and the game in parallel.
I heave a sigh of relief when I realize that it’s working flawlessly—no more floating Zach.
I silently mouth the words that I’ll be speaking to tomorrow’s audience.
I could recite them in my sleep by now, which does serve to calm me a bit.
I immerse myself in my slides until Lara returns.
She has her hair in a high braid, and her cheeks are flushed, probably from the shower.
I bite my lip when I see her pajamas. The pink long-sleeved top reads “In My Cozy Game Era” with a pixel version of a blond woman underneath—that must be Taylor Swift—with a pickax in lieu of a microphone.
“I wouldn’t have taken you for a Swiftie.”
“I’m not, but my flatmate Nat is. This was a Christmas present.”
“Cute,” I say, suppressing a laugh as Lara’s cheeks flush an even deeper shade of red. I should stop teasing her. But most of all, I should stop calling her or anything about her “cute.” Although her expression certainly is right now.
Lara disappears into bed, and judging by the quiet tap-tapping of her keyboard, she’s running through her own presentation again.
I snatch up the thin blanket draped over the sofa and lie down too, my presentation balanced on my stomach, and I start it again from the beginning.
I run through the slides twice, but then my exhaustion finally wins out, and my eyes start drooping.
I turn off my laptop, set it down on the small living room table, and get as comfortable as I can on the sofa.
I’ve just closed my eyes when I hear Lara’s voice.
“Are you sure you don’t want to switch? Your legs are sticking out.”
“Are you watching me?” I open my eyes again. Lara puts her laptop aside and gives me a critical once-over.
“It’s hard not to look when there’s a solution this simple. By the way, as a developer, you should take a more goal-oriented approach to things.”
I sigh, reaching over toward the wall to flip the light switch. “Go to sleep.”
She seems to follow my advice, because other than an indignant groan, there’s no reply from her. A few minutes later her quiet, regular breathing is the only thing I can hear in the darkness.