CHAPTER NINE
Later in the night the new sword from Grant sparkles from its enchantments as I swing the glowing blade toward the large rat at the face of the cave. The sound of clashing metal sings through the television speakers as I step over the dead rat carcass to claim the few pieces of gold he left behind post death.
“Did Finn need to be so graphic when he designed Dragons Reborn?” I ask guiding my character farther into the cave.
“Yes. We’re guys. We like the realism of dead things.”
“Hey I enjoying killing stuff as much as the next player, but I don’t want to step over bodies to get my loot.”
I catch his headshake from the corner of my eye too worried about what else we’ll find in this new cave to waste seconds looking at him. “You’re such a girl, Marissa."
Narrowing my eyes at the television screen, I plot my revenge for his comment and take a swipe at his character with my sword.
“Hey!” He tries to strike back, but I’m already halfway down the cavern tunnel.
“What?” I fake innocence. “I was just checking out my new glittery sword from Grant. Isn’t it pretty?”
“You don’t need Grant’s cast off sword. We’ll get you your own implement of destruction on one of these raids.”
“You don’t keep extra swords in a secret hidden chest like Grant?”
He scoffs at my question. “No. I don’t need to try and impress girls with shiny baubles or acquire extra weapons. I upgrade my original iron sword when I reach new levels.” The amount of reproach in his voice could fill a dump truck.
“Well maybe I’ll upgrade this one from Grant. It sounds easier.”
“No. We’re getting you a new one.”
My lips press together to suppress a smirk, but the corners still tip up. It’s a ridiculously silly thing to get pleasure from, but I can’t help myself. I enjoy his jealous side too much.
Of course I’ll never admit any of these feelings to Aspen. The girl spent weeks going on about how Finn built her a castle in this make believe realm, and I gave her complete crap over it. I’d never hear the end of it if she knew I've started to like this game. At least when Ryland plays with me.
“Can’t we call up Finn and ask him to poof me in a sword?” It sounds like a great plan to me. I can’t believe I haven’t thought of it before.
Ryland shakes his head. “Nope. Finn lost that kind of control over the game when he sold his rights, but even before he didn’t believe inpoofingitems in."
I smack my lips together. “Why not?”
This time Ryland lowers his controller, his player’s advance stopping. “Wellsomepeople, Finn and me included, consider that cheating." He raises one eyebrow in my direction daring me to question him.
Of course I do. “Cheating? It’s using your connections well.”
He laughs, a deep baritone chuckle and goes back to playing. The cave darkens the deeper we go and Ryland begins placing torches to light our way every few blocks. “It’s cheating and if there’s a single lesson I took away from my father, it’s you don’t cheat, no matter the game.”
“Yeah, is your dad full of sage advice to keep me from a maxed out sword?”
Ryland laughs again, but this time it’s humorless. “Nope, he’s mostly an asshole who thinks he knows what’s best for everyone. Even if no one ever meets his expectations.”
“Oh.” I’ve clearly hit a sore spot for Ryland. We’ve never discussed such a personal topic before. I’m not sure if I should question him for more information or change the subject.
In the end Ryland makes the decision. “I’d lie and say he singlehandedly ruined my love for soccer, but that’s not true. He's only seventy-five percent at fault. I blame the media for the rest.”
The numerous photos of him with tall blondes on his arm hover in my consciousness at his mention of the media. I haven’t forgotten I’m a short brunette. There are pages of shots on the Internet with Ryland doing mundane activities like eating at an outdoor patio or playing soccer. The shirtless ones where he’s sweaty are my favorite. But the photos I remember the most are those where he stands next to a tall leggy blonde, their arms wrapped around one another.
“Does your dad not support you with the whole soccer thing?”
“The opposite,” he answers but doesn’t continue. Ryland starts digging an unnecessary hole in the side of the cave. A total waste of energy and supplies, but I don't comment hopeful he’ll open up. I’d like to learn more about my enigmatic neighbor.
It takes less than a minute. “My father’s obsessed with soccer. I played kiddie soccer at three and from that day forth he’s expected the entire family to live and breathe the sport.”
