Page 22 of Level Up for Love

Chapter

Six

Why did you stop making games?

God, as if.

Wesley must not have known me well at all to think that it was ever an option for me to stop. For as long as I can remember, I’ve filled my free time with building worlds, whether they’re fantastical D&D games for my closest friends or experimental video games to hone my skills. All this week, Wesley’s seemingly innocent question has haunted me, motivating me to spend extra hours building my game like I’ve got something to prove.

“So you’re doing it, then? You’re going to enter NEWT?”

I nearly jump out of my skin, flinging my headset off my ears and spinning my desk chair around until I face Mona, who stands grinning in my office doorway.

“How long have you been standing there?” I ask. My voice comes out a little hoarse; I’ve holed myself in my office all day, alternating between my day job and my passion project. I think this is the first time I’ve spoken today.

“Ten minutes.” She jerks her chin toward the door to my unit. “I let myself in.”

Right.

She steps into the office and leans against the Wyrmwood table. “By all means, don’t let me stop you. You’re clearly on a roll—it looks even better than it did last week.”

I stare at the screen for a long moment; my eyes feel too strained to be able to tell for sure.

“Yeah,” I finally say. “Yeah, I’m going to compete in NEWT.”

As I say it aloud for the first time, I wait for the dread or uncertainty to flood in, but it never does. Instead, it just feels right, like I’m confirming something I knew I would do all along. I can’t pinpoint exactly when I made the decision—was it when I started this project immediately after the Cataclysm? When Mona played it for the first time, and her face lit up with wonder? Or during the several sleepless nights I spent poring over it this week?

Wesley’s dark eyes, narrowed in challenge, flash in the back of my mind—but I shake my head to ward them off.

And anyway, Mona has started squealing at a pitch only dogs can hear, which distracts me enough to burst into laughter as she squeezes me in a hug. “Oh my god, finally. Yes! You’ve needed this. I’m so excited for you. How can I help? Do you want to keep working? I can order us dinner.”

She’s talking so fast it takes a moment to register her words. I glance at the time. “We can’t,” I say, still laughing. “We have to leave for D&D.”

Mona pouts uncomfortably. “You really want to go?”

Want is a strong word. “You don’t?” I ask.

“We don’t have to keep playing. I’m serious, we can quit right now.”

It’s not the first time she’s said it. But now that it’s Thursday night again, I’m not about to ghost the whole table an hour before our game’s session.

“I’m not quitting, and I especially don’t want you quitting for me.” I look at her sidelong. “Didn’t you have fun last week?”

Mona presses her palms to her cheeks and groans dramatically. “I had so much fun,” she admits. “But watching you glare at him across the table for three full hours, Reagan, I just—”

“I was not glaring. I was…roleplaying. That’s just what Sindra looks like when she’s killing things.”

Mona levels a deadpan stare on me. “Right.”

I stand resolutely. “It was a good first session.”

Mona looks unconvinced, and that’s fair—I sound more frustrated than convincing. Maybe I am irritated about how fun it was. Maybe I am a little mad that Wesley’s just as good at this as I knew he’d be. But despite the cold anger I still feel when I think about our conversation…

“I want to see it through,” I say.

Finally, Mona nods. “It’s not as good as your games, though,” she says quietly, as if to comfort me.

She waits as I rush to get ready, throwing on an oversized pullover and leggings and tossing my notebooks into a bag. A gentle drumming noise fills the room, tapping at the roof above us. We both turn to look outside as rain spatters against the window.