Page 46 of Level Up for Love

Wesley lets out a low laugh. “Everything. I heard what you said to the recruiter, about the other games you’ve published. I didn’t even know you still made games. What was your handle again? Witch Riley? That’s cute.” The word echoes against my skull like the ringing of a bell. His smile turns sharp. “It’s fitting.”

“Is it?”

“Yes.”

I press my lips together.

“Is this your first time entering?” he asks. “Do you already know what you’re going to submit?”

“I do.”

Wesley shifts for a moment, anxious for the follow-up question I don’t ask—but he answers it anyway. “Me, too.” We shuffle forward. Only two people ahead of us now. “Well, what’s it about? What kind of game is it?”

Something in his attitude is different. He seems less guarded, his reactions to my barbs less spiky. Ever since he learned we’re competing against each other, there’s a new fire in his eyes, and they’re lit bright with interest. He hovers close to my side.

“I haven’t decided if I’m going to tell you,” I say.

Wesley scoffs. “What? Why not?”

“Because I want to win.”

Finally, it’s our turn. I order the girls’ drinks, and then somehow Wesley and I both end up choosing tequila pineapples for ourselves. As the bartender makes our drinks, Wesley bends close to my ear so his words aren’t lost in the swell of the music. “I want to win, too,” he says in a low voice, breath warm against the side of my neck. “Telling you what I’m working on isn’t going to stop me from doing that.”

As my shoulders stiffen, I feel the warmth of Wesley’s chest at my back when he reaches over my shoulder to hand the bartender his card before I even realize it’s time to pay. He flashes me a grin and leaves the tab open.

I’m left feeling hot and bothered—and not in the fun way. I grab two drinks and don’t wait for him to follow as I move to stand at the edge of the dance floor, looking for Mona and Shay. Wesley appears at my shoulder soon after.

He sees them first and points. “I think Shay’s really serious about Ramona,” he says, changing the subject.

I watch them circle each other on the dance floor. Where Mona’s all giggles and laugh lines, punctuating every beat of the music with a jump, fist pump, or twirl, Shay orbits her like a moon, dark eyes sparkling as she looks at my sister like she hung the stars. Whenever anyone tries to come close to Mona, to catch her in a spin or shepherd her toward the bar, Shay smoothly winds an arm around her waist, drawing Mona to her side and matching her pace seamlessly.

My spine, tense from Wesley’s proximity, softens as something in my chest relaxes. “I think Mona’s really serious about her, too,” I say. “I think—I think Shay can keep up with her.”

“How do you mean?”

I tilt my head from side to side as I consider my words, shaking a lock of hair loose from where I twisted it into a claw clip. Wesley idly reaches to tuck it back into place; his fingers are wet and cold from where he was holding his drink when they brush the back of my ear. I shiver at his touch, and Wesley goes still. I scramble to remember what question he asked me in the first place.

I whip my attention back to Shay and Mona.

“Look at her,” I say, gesturing to where Mona is poorly but enthusiastically trying to shuffle. Shay laughs, one hand steady on her back to keep her upright. “Mona’s always been so full of energy. She’s got these wild hobbies, these adventures she’ll embark on every few months to go visit the nation’s largest yarn ball or foster a whole horde of cats just because the shelter can’t take all of them on. When she’s into something, she’s into it. She’s just—she’s a lot,” I say simply. “And the women she’s dated in the past, they’d always get to this point where they thought she was ‘too much.’ ” I curl two fingers in sarcastic air quotes to show exactly what I think of that small-minded opinion.

I glance to Wesley, but he’s not watching Mona—he’s watching me. He doesn’t look away when he says, “I think that’s what Shay likes about her. How spirited she is—how passionate.”

Something in his dark, unblinking gaze makes me feel like he’s seeing too much. Like he’s not talking about Mona at all. I swallow. “I think so, too.” I take a sip to combat my mouth’s sudden dryness. “I think she can handle it. So far.”

“You sound like her mom,” he teases. “Does Shay need your approval first to court her?”

I tense. “I just don’t want to see my sister get hurt. I don’t know Shay.”

“Well, I do. Regardless of how things go, I know she’ll treat Ramona with respect. Like any adult.”

I don’t know why I say it. I don’t know if it’s just habit at this point, or if he’s standing too close and it’s just all a bit too much, or if I just can’t help but be defensive of Mona. But my tone is frosty when I mutter, “Forgive me if I can’t trust your word on matters like these.”

Wesley’s eyes roll upward as he coughs out an exasperated laugh. “Reagan—”

“I’m gonna go dance.”

“Have fun.”