What a weirdo. I smiled and shook my head. If we ever did squad up for multiplayer, it was going to be a disaster.
My brother tilted his head at me, a silent question, so I straightened my posture to better receive it.
It wasn’t quite, ‘Are you okay?’ Because I’d been playing and laughing and present. Maybe it was just ‘How are you?’ or ‘What are you doing?’
I vaguely flopped my arms at my sides. I didn’t know. Wasn’t I being normal? I gestured to the exit with my chin. ‘Leave after this game?’
He nodded.
Great.
I didn’t hug anyone goodbye, but I did tap their forearms, fists, and sticks. Whatever was presented.
“I’ll message you about game night,” Sal called as our trio walked away, still typing my username into his phone.
Ash hung onto his arm, whispering something.
“Shut up; she is not,” he said, shaking her off.
Who wasn’t what? I couldn’t exactly go back without looking desperate.
“Is it okay if Kat comes back with us?” Victor asked, holding the door open.
She feigned an apologetic smile and twisted her cross necklace. “It’s okay if I can’t. Jinx would prefer I come straight home, anyway.”
“It’s fine.” I pushed up my glasses and flashed them a small smile. After all, we were almost friends.
7
Salutations
The next morning at breakfast, I mulled over the friend request sitting in my GameUp inbox: SalUtations933.
A pun username. It was certainly in line with his personality.
According to GameUp, the last time he’d logged in, he was playing Craft Cove at 2:30 in the morning.
When I’d asked about good games, he hadn’t mentioned it. Maybe he figured the rest of the group didn’t care about casual simulations.
If I hadn’t been so determined to fall asleep before the bed-squeaking started, I might’ve stayed up to play.
I sighed and scrolled through my privacy settings. All good. If things got weird, I could always block him and say I was busy. Quit my job. Whatever.
I accepted the friend request and braced myself for the confetti animatic.
A new friend. Yee-haw. I smirked, remembering how he’d lasso’d an imaginary demon last night.
Footfall padded down the stairs. I sat up and switched tabs.
“Are you sure you’re okay with me wearing your sweatpants home?” Kat asked.
“Yes. Leave them there. I could use a spare,” Victor said.
I rolled my eyes. He already kept a duffel bag of Kat-sanctioned sleepover gear in his trunk. She’d given him a drawer, a razor, and a toothbrush. How much stuff did he need at his girlfriend’s place? It was nice of him to make sure she was comfortable on the drive home, but his logic was ridiculous.
“Okay,” she said.
The faint smack of kisses drifted from the doorway. I sighed and reached for my noise-proof headphones only to find empty space. I didn’t think I’d need them this early.
