Page 95 of Next Level Up
“Unfortunately.” She looks away first, nudging my arm motioning to a shelf of gaming chair pillows.
While she’s distracted, I flag down the cashier and point to the sleek white-and-lavender headset I saw her eye earlier. “Can I get that one?”
They bag it up quietly.
I keep it behind my back until we’re walking out, the sun high above us and her laughter still echoing from inside.
“What’s that?” she asks, brow raised as I hand her the bag.
“Early good luck gift,” I say. “Finals are coming.”
She peeks inside and freezes. “Carter.”
“You need something that matches your vibe. Plus, I figured if you’re gonna keep kicking ass on stream, you should sound as good as you look.”
She throws her arms around me, nearly sending the headset flying, and buries her face in my neck.
“You are such afucking sap,” she whispers.
“Guilty.”
We get back to Haven’s apartment just as the rain starts coming down.
Tate’s on the couch when we walk in, he lifts his head from the pillow when we come through the door.
“Buy me anything?”
Haven tosses a tiny sticker pack at him that contain neon skulls and pixel hearts. “You can put them on your forehead during your next stream.”
He grunts something that might be “thanks,” then groans and rolls over. “I’m napping. Wake me when the apocalypse hits.”
We leave him there, sprawled across the cushions, and head into her room.
The storm hasn’t hit yet, but the air feels heavy with it. We change into comfier clothes—she steals another hoodie from my bag, of course—and we pile into her bed with her laptop propped on a pillow between us.
“I want something dumb,” she says, flopping onto her side. “Like… ‘high schoolers survive the zombie apocalypse but also fall in love’ dumb.”
I chuckle. “Done.”
We settle on something ridiculous but she’s laughing, and her toes are hooked under the hem of my sweatpants, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
Halfway through, I glance over and find her watching me instead of the screen. “What?”
She shakes her head. “Nothing. Just… I like this.”
“Me too.”
I wrap an arm around her and pull her closer, her head resting on my chest, her fingers playing absently with the drawstring of my pants. Outside, thunder rumbles in the distance. Inside, everything feels quiet and still in the best way.
The movie ends. I don’t even know how. I think zombies fell in love? Someone definitely sacrificed themselves for a girl they met five minutes before the apocalypse. Whatever. Haven’s curled into my side, and I’m half convinced I lost feeling in my arm, but I’m not about to move.
Until she stretches.
That little sigh—thatstretch—her shirt lifting just enough to flash skin and a sliver of my hoodie beneath it.
“Hey,” she murmurs, “we should eat something.”
I groan. “I forgot food was a thing. Can’t we just live on snacks and forehead kisses?”
