Page 65 of Glitched Play

Everything inside me melts and tightens at the same time.

He whispers, “Do you like fantasy games?”

I nod unable to speak, mesmerized by this man.

“You look like the heroine in a game. The kind of woman that men will climb mountains for.”

My lips tremble as his breath washes over me.

“It’s a compliment Maci.”

I know. I just can’t talk. He’s rendered me speechless.

His fingers rub over the back of my hand as he stares at me. My insides tripping over the electrical pulse. My body is on fire and on edge.

He bends down.

His lips only an inch or two away from mine.

Please kiss me.

thirteen

. . .

Witt

Game Chat: Glitch

Some glitches aren't errors. They're proof the system was never designed for what comes next.

I should look away.

Instead, I count.

Three shades of green.

Most people think eyes have one color.

They don't.

The outer edge of Maci's irises is darker, almost forest green. Closer to her pupils, the color softens into moss, and when the outdoor lights catch them just right, tiny flecks of gold appear like someone dusted sunlight across the surface.

I've never noticed that before. Why? Because looking into someone’s eyes is uncomfortable, and painful. Yet, I can’t stop looking into hers.

My nerves prickle and my stomach does this weird flip flop thing.

With one of the balcony doors pushed open, I can still hear the faint sound of glasses clinking together. Somewhere behind me, someone laughs loud enough to turn heads, but not mine. For some reason I can’t stop looking into her eyes.

The band shifts into another song, and applause rises from the opposite side of the room where another adaptive gaming demonstration has just finished.

I hear all of it.

Normally, I hear everything.

The lights.

The conversations.