Page 15 of Next Level Up
Once he disappears upstairs, I do the same. Heading straight for my desk, I open a private browser tab and load her VOD archive. I’ve seen most of them already, some I’ve watched more than a dozen times. I don’t watch for her game play. I watchfor the way she looks when she’s focused, when she’s frustrated. When she forgets anyone’s watching and her voice goes soft as a whisper and she chews her lip and fidgets with her mic cord. It’s sick. I know. I could stop. Close the tab. Go do literally anything fucking else. But fuck, she’s beautiful when she’s in the zone. I grab my phone, lean back in my chair, and stare at the last message in our group chat. My thumb hovers over her contact for a second. Then I switch to private.
Me:try not to moan too loud during your movie night unless it’s for me
I pause. Add one more.
Me:sweet dreams, pretty girl, next time you fall asleep I’ll be the one in your head
I shouldn’t poke at her like this, or blur the lines when I already know how bad I am at staying on the right side of them.
…but I want to see how far she’ll let me go.
I set the phone down, but I don’t go to bed right away. I pull out the soft cloth from my drawer and start wiping down the red mask, out of habit, ritual even. I keep my gear pristine.
If my hands are busy, my brain doesn’t spiral. If I’m cleaning my mask, I’m not picturing Dylan breathing down Haven’s neck in voice comms or sliding snide remarks into her match chat. If I keep the surface perfect, I don’t have to think about the parts of me that aren’t.
I set the mask back down gently and crack open redbull while opening up docs on my laptop. I don’t write much anymore, but the other night I opened a blank doc and typed only three words. She undoes me. That’s it; that’s the whole entry. I don’t know how to say I’ve loved her voice since before I knew her name.
I’ve hated every guy who made her doubt herself. I don’t know who I am when I’m not losing my mind over her. If this tournament is what it takes to prove I can still hold the line, then I’m about to burn the whole fucking bracket down to do it.
5
Haven
Carter’s face lights up my screen with a smile glued to his face as if he hasn’t been waiting all damn day to see me. He’s curled into bed, his hair messy like he’s been dragging his fingers through it nonstop. In this moment I’d give anything to do that.
“You comfy, sweetheart?” he asks, with a crooked grin.
“Mmhm,” I nod, tucking the blanket tighter around me. “You better let me pick the movie, last time I let you listen to Tate’s suggestion and I couldn’t sleep for twenty minutes after you went to bed.”
His laugh is teasing. “Okay, okay. No scary shit. Just mellow for our night tonight.”
I settle back into my pillows, pretending it doesn’t make me melt when he calls it our night. No chaos or masked unhinged twin with a permanent claim on my lower spine. Just Carter.
After finally agreeing on a movie, we hit play. It’s easy, even if the ache of not being around him settles under my ribs. These past few weeks since his last visit have felt like an eternity.
I’m not even paying attention anymore. I mean, I am, technically, but mostly I’m watching him react to everything like it matters. The way he groans at bad decisions, the way he mutters under his breath like he could somehow fix the plot if he just complains loud enough. I laugh, knowing his mic picks up every sound, knowing mine does too. Halfway through, I shift on my side, propping my head on my hand. “You look good tonight,” I say softly.
His cheeks flush. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I nod. “Like… really good.”
He bites his lip, “I wish I was there,” he murmurs. “I’d hold you just like that. Warm under the blanket, your legs all tangled with mine.”
There it is.
That little shift, the blush, the way his eyes dip like he doesn’t know where to put all that attention. I like that I can do that to him. Probably more than I should.
“I’d kiss your neck,” he goes on, voice barely above a whisper. “Slide my hands under your shirt, ask if I could touch you.”
I exhale, shaky. “You don’t have to ask Carter.”
He blinks slow. “Say that again, p-please.”
“You don’t have to ask.”
His jaw tightens. His screen tilts like he’s adjusting under the blanket and my stomach flips. Movie and blankets forgotten. The only thing that matters is the way his breathing deepens. “Can I see you?” he asks.
I nod as I go to tug my tank top lower my phone vibrates, startling me.
