Her face lights up. “I loveOri! Was it the definitive edition?”
The pure joy on her face sends a jolt of electricity through my body. “Yes, it was. Have you played?”
She nods, her brown eyes sparkling with glee. “It’s one of my favorites.”
It becomes quiet then, an excited charge pulsing in the air. It’s like we’re both unsure of how to react to the fact that we love the same thing, so I cough and change the subject. “Did you finish unpacking?”
She laughs under her breath. “Not really.”
“Well, I can order a pizza and help you unpack while we wait for it. If you like pizza, of course.”
Slight panic flickers over her features. “No, that’s okay! I… you probably won’t like the pizza I like.”
That makes me curious. “Try me.”
Her cheeks flush as she takes a deep breath. From the few things I know about her, I’d never expect her to be bashful, but the red undertone does something to me. It makes me feel like a boy on the playground again, chasing after my latest crush and giggling until our bellies hurt.
“I like fig jam and prosciutto,” she admits as she bites her bottom lip. I stare at her, wondering if this is real life, and then I start laughing.
“What?” she asks, exasperated by my reaction. “I told you it was niche! Why are you making that noise?”
I choke on my laughter. “You’re going to think I’m lying.”
This time, she repeats my words back at me and places her hands on her hips. “Try me.”
The tiny peek into her sassiness causes even more amusement to settle as I say, “That’s Sam’s favorite, too.”
Her smile drops, which isn’t how I expect her to react. She recovers quickly, though, and a weak smile pokes through. “That’s… bizarre, actually.”
I shrug, giddy by the revelation. “It’s good for me, because I know exactly where to get the best fig and prosciutto pizza. Give me a second and I’ll orderit.”
It only takes a few minutes, but I order the pizza plus some wings from one of our favorite restaurants downtown. When I get back to her room, she’s wiping up where she spilled water on the hardwood floor beside her portable stove. By the red packet sitting beside it, I’m guessing that she was going to make ramen. I make a mental note of the brand and reach out to take the paper towels from her.
I slip them into the trash bin down the hall and then come back. Opal’s back to work, looking through her boxes to figure out where everything goes. When I come across a box full of mugs, I place them carefully by the door so that I can make a spot for them in the kitchen. She notices and thanks me as she puts some of her jewelry on the dresser near the wall. I move to a few open boxes on her bed to help, pointing at them with a silent question. She’s reluctant; it’s not uncommon for an omega to not want others touching their stuff, but then she nods, allowing me to help her.
The first box is full of stuffed animals, all plush and soft under my touch. I pull out a medium-sized green apple that reminds me of Sam’s scent. The thick yarn is smooth as I hold it up to her. “This is so cute.”
She looks at the plushie and then back at me a few times before saying, “Thanks. I made it.”
“You crochet?”
She nods. “It’s relaxing.”
And time-consuming. I’d never be able to focus on something that long, but the creativity calls to me. I may not be able to work with needles for the amount of time that’s needed to make something like this, but I understand taking care with art. Just on a more technological level.
She points to a spot where I can unload the rest and I get to work. It doesn’t take long to get them all in a row, but I’m sure she will rearrange them at some point. I move on to the nextbox and notice that it’s full of video games. My heart rate picks up slightly.
This is my bread and butter.
I’m amazed by the collection, going one by one, so I can absorb each and every one. There are so many good ones.Cult of the Lamb.Echoes of Wisdom.Stardew Valley.Enter the Gungeon. Then, of course, she hasOri and the Blind Forest. I think I fall a little bit in love with every title I read.
Instead of putting them away, I hold up one of the two-player games. “Have you played this one yet?” I ask her, flashing the cover that has two little birds on it. When she looks over, she laughs.
“Yeah, a little. Rory kept getting frustrated, so she vowed not to play it with me anymore.”
I chuckle. “Well, I’ve never played and it looks fun. You haveUnraveled, too.”
Opal closes one of the drawers in her dresser and walks over to me. “Do you and Sam not play any games together? Or Thatcher?”
