Page 2 of Next Level Up
I am notglowing, I refuse to be glowing. Glowing implies emotional stability that I am absolutely not participating in. I am—at most—slightly unhinged and making questionable decisions. “Why not both?”
She pretend gags, then she sets her phone down and stretches, yawning. “So… what’s really going on?”
I blink at her. “Nothing.” That was the weakest ‘nothing’ I’ve ever said in my life.
She gives me that look. The one that’s more exasperated sister than best friend. “Try again, but this time without lying directly to my face.”
Here we go. I could lie. I’m going to lie… but she’s not going to let me. I sigh, tug my knees up to my chest, and stare into my now cold coffee like it might give me the courage to say it out loud. “I signed up for something,” I finally say. Shit, no taking it back now. No pretending it’s just some dumb idea I can quietly abandon if I panic hard enough.
She leans in immediately, interested. “Okay, what kind of something? Fun something? Bad idea something? Sex dungeon something?”
I choke. “Gaming something.” Wow. Incredible delivery. Truly inspiring. Say it like it’s the least interesting thing in the world, Haven, maybe she won’t realize you’re internally spiraling.
She lifts an unimpressed brow. “That’s the least exciting answer you could’ve given me.”
Bingo. “No, but it’s a big one,” I say, the nerves suddenly rolling in harder now. “It’s my first official tournament. Like, real bracket. Invite-only. Heavily sponsored. High visibility.”
Cassie sits up straighter. “Wait. Seriously?Like, the kind with actual money and fan eyes and potential sponsors watching from the shadows?”
I nod slowly. “Yeah.”
“Haven, that’s amazing!”
“It’s terrifying.” Yeah. Amazing. Terrifying. Same thing, apparently.
She narrows her eyes. “Okay, but still amazing.”
“I don’t know if I’m good enough.” The words leave before I can catch them. “I’ve always been good, Cass, but this is different. This isn’t just streaming and being funny and wiping the floor with randos in matchmaking. This is organized, competitive, with a team. I’m not used to playing with other people like that.”
Cassie snorts. “Could’ve fooled me, you’re not allowed to talk about being ‘not good enough’ when I’ve watched you drop three ranked players in a single round with your mic muted and a bag of chips in your hand.”
“That was luck.” It wasn’t luck. Stop saying that. Why do I always say that?
“No,” she says firmly, sliding closer and bumping her knee against mine. “That’s talent. And you know what else? You’ve worked your ass off for this. You’ve built your following, you’ve put in the hours, and you didn’t let a single dude talk you out of taking up space in the scene.”
My throat tightens. “What if I mess it up anyway?”
“Then you mess it up like a badass,” Cassie says. “But you won’t. Because you’ve already done the hardest part.”
“Which is?”
“Signing up.”
I blink. “That’s disgustingly supportive.”
She stands up to stretch, “That’s what I’m here for,” wandering toward the kitchen like we’re not in the middle of a casual emotional breakdown. “I’m making iced coffee,” she calls. “You want serotonin in the form of liquid sugar?”
“Obviously, please,” I say back, reaching for my laptop from the coffee table as she disappears behind the counter. My tournament dashboard is still open in a background tab. I haven’t looked at it since the invite dropped. Part of me doesn’t want to jinx it. The other part, okay, most of me is scared.Okay. Just look, it’s not that serious. If it’s bad, just… deal with it.
I click the tab, scroll past the welcome message, past the general rules. Until I hit the matchup list. My heart skips.
Bracket 1 | Team: Clutch Circuit
Players: HavenHexed, D7LAN, KillSwitch, P1XELH3AD
Okay. Fine. Normal names. Regular people. This is fine. I can work with this. I—
I stare at the usernames, one sticks out immediately like a punch to the gut. No. No. Nope. No. Absolutely thefuck not. That’s not real.
