Page 43 of Glitched Play

A knock sounds against my open office door.

I don't have to look up.

"Still working on it?" Witt asks.

I groan. "Go away."

His shoes stop just inside the doorway.

"I'll take that as a yes."

I glare at him.

He looks annoyingly calm. Dark button-down. Sleeves rolled. Tablet tucked beneath one arm like he hasn't spent the last three days occupying valuable real estate in my brain.

"You gave me a problem nobody can solve."

"No."

"No?"

"I gave you a problem nobody has solved."

I narrow my eyes. "That's somehow worse."

Something flickers across his face, not quite a smile, but definitely satisfaction.

I hate that I notice the slight smirk on his face and his butterscotch-colored eyes as he leans against the credenza under one of the windows. “Most people quit by now."

"It’s a glitch. I’ll find it,” I say with the same competitive spirit as my siblings.

The word glitch reminds me of the best gaming partners I ever had, Glitch. My pen pal who I haven’t heard from in months. I admit, I still haven’t written the letter. I brought it with me and stuck it in a new nightstand, but I haven’t found the words. I want to tell him about my new job, but does he care? Has he moved on? Found someone, an actual person, to spend his nights with?

“Figure it out."

"You're enjoying this… watching me fail,” I say with a bit of snark in my tone.

His brow furrows. "No."

The answer comes too quickly. I cross my arms and gather my thoughts.

"You absolutely do."

"I don't."

"You do."

His gaze shifts toward the charts covering my whiteboard. "I enjoy being right. Family trait."

My fingers tap against my leg and say, “Finally, you admit it.”

This time his mouth twitches, clearly tasting victory.

I point at him. "That was almost a smile."

"It wasn't."

"Liar."