Page 42 of Next Level Up
Carter wouldn’t go this far. Haven wouldn’t let him, but I’m not Carter. And Haven isn’t fucking here right now.
“She doesn’t owe you shit,” I add, “Not her time. Not her rank. Not her body.”
I toggle off voice. Leave the mic hot just long enough to sigh then blow another player out of the top tower with a perfectly-timed grenade.
NoOneGhost [Grenade] SpawnCamper99
I clean out the map with clinical precision no chaos, no flair. Just methodical kills, each one smoother than the last. I don’t talk, I don’t smile, my kill count climbs. I top the bracket. When the match ends, I open the chat one last time. Haven’s still offline. Carter’s probably checking in on her. I lean forward, click into her chat, and type just one thing.
NoOneGhost: He’s not gonna touch you again. Promise.
Then I log off. I pull off my headset, roll my neck, crack my knuckles. The silence that fills the room afterward is sharp in contrast, almost jarring.
It always is, but right now that kind of focus, that level of control it’s costing me the calm I never really had to begin with. That’s the thing about control, it always costs something.
Now that the match is over, my hands won’t stop shaking. My jaw’s tight. My ribs feel like they’re laced with barbed wire. Because I didn’t do it for rank, or pride. I did it for her.
So I stand before I explode. Walk down the hall, push Haven’s bedroom door open without knocking.
Carter is sprawled out at the foot of her bed with his laptop, and Haven in her chair, twisting a pen between her fingers, eyes flicking over the bracket list again like she’s still trying to process what the fuck just happened.
She looks up when I step inside. “You crushed it.”
I lean against the doorway. “So did you.”
Carter glances up from the bed, stretching. “That move you pulled in the stairwell was filthy.”
I shrug. “He was camping. It was earned.”
Haven snorts and closes the tab on her monitor. “I need a shower after that match. My whole body feels wired.”
Carter grins. “Same. I want one next.”
“Then just go with her.”
Carter freezes before Haven does.
I cross my arms. “What? I’ll shower after. You two go steam off or whatever the fuck. I’m claiming the couch and ten minutes of not hearing gunfire in my ears.”
Carter glances at Haven, then back at me. “You sure?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Don’t make it weird, golden boy. I’ll be fine.”
Haven bites her lip to hide a smile. “You’re unbelievable.”
I wink. “You love it.”
She gets up, tugging Carter with her by the hand. He follows like he’s helpless to do anything else. When they disappear into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind them, I exhale and roll my shoulders.
I pace the length of her living room. I stop at her shelf, run my hand along the row of games and collectibles, fingertips brushing over every glossy box spine and limited edition badge.
I reach into my pocket and pull out the pocketknife I forgot was there one of the smaller ones I keep for travel. Flip it open. Close it again, just once. The blade’s not sharp enough to break skin but it doesn’t need to be. Just the weight of it, the sound it makes. The memory. One day, I’ll press it against her thigh. Just to feel her still beneath me, to hear her breath catch. Not to scare her. I do that just fine with my teeth. I don’t care how deep she’s cut into me.
The couch creaks as I sink into it. For now, I don’t need to be on guard. I close my eyes.
But not for long before the bathroom door opens with a burst of steam.
Carter walks out first, hair damp, a little flushed, hoodie sleeves pushed up as he tugs at the collar like he still hasn’t cooled off. Haven trails behind him, wrapped in one of her oversized towels, skin dewy and legs bare.
