Page 64 of A Curvy Girl’s Hurricane Survival Guide

I just hope I don’t trip over my own feet on the way there.

SONNY

The morning meeting has already gone off the rails, and it isn’t even ten o’clock.

I am supposed to be reviewing the latest dialogue trees for Silent Knights 2, but every line blurs together. Instead of focusing on branching quest outcomes, my brain keeps replaying the sound Cai made when she laughed in my hoodie. The way her thighs had trembled under my hands. The shy but delighted look on her face when I told her to keep the hoodie on.

Focus, idiot.

Jack clears his throat from across the conference table. “Boss? You still with us? We’re talking about needing a fresh voice for the new civilian arc. The writing’s getting a little… same-y. We need someone who can bring real heart to the side characters. Someone who understands emotional stakes instead of just plot beats. I was thinking maybe we bring in that freelancer we used on that other project…”

Jack is still talking, but I have already tuned him out. I blink, the idea hitting me like a loading screen finally finishing.

Someone with heart.

Someone who’d cried during a branching romance path in the original game. Someone who turns a silly granny-panties moment into the sweetest memory I’ve had in years. Someone who wants to be a writer but has spent years convincing herself she isn’t good enough.

Cai.

I try to keep my expression neutral, but a slow smile creeps across my face anyway.

“What if,” I say carefully, “We brought in someone new? Not from the usual pool. Someone with a fresh perspective. Maybe even… someone who’s never written for games before.”

Jack raises an eyebrow. “You got someone in mind?”

I lean back in my chair, tapping my pen against the table. “Yeah. I might.”

The rest of the meeting might as well have been static. My mind is already spinning with possibilities, imagining Cai sitting in the writers’ room, arguing passionately about character motivation, bringing that warm, chaotic Cuban-family energy into our stories. I can see her lighting up when she realizes she can actually get paid to do what she loves.

And I can keep her close.

Not because I don’t trust the distance, but because the thought of her chasing her dream—our dream now—makes something warm and possessive bloom in my chest.

I last another forty-five minutes before I pull out my phone under the table to see if she’d texted. She has! Yahtzee!

Cai

Hey! Here’s my number. Excited for tonight.

Sonny

Glad you found the note. Also… random question. How would you feel about writing video game stories for a living?

I hit send before I could overthink it, then immediately regretted how casual I tried to sound. Too late now.

Jack is still talking about narrative branching when my phone buzzes with her reply. I glance down, and my grin gets so wide that the entire table notices.

Cai

…Is this a joke? Because if it is, it’s a cruel one.

I type back quickly.

Sonny

Not a joke. We need a new writer for the civilian stories. I think you’d be perfect. But you’ll still have to win the creative director over. I can’t show you favoritism just because you make my head spin when you put on my hoodie.

Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again.