Page 1 of Pixel Perfect Pack

One

Jess

“I can’t believe you fucked all three of us,” I yell, my eyes wide and watering from the bright lights. The game is still running on my screen, keyboard glowing purple in the darkness of my bedroom. I watch my avatar twitch on the ground, surrounded by a pool of blood. Next to me Quietek and Minxy didn’t fare any better, the obliterated animation likely still playing on their own PC’s.

But it’s fucking MourningStar that I focus on. His avatar is standing over us, whipping out ridiculous dance moves in celebration. A few seconds later and he’s hopping through the escape.

“You’re a fucking dick, Mourning,” Minxy snaps, trying his hardest to sound stern.

MourningStar’s laugh echoes through my headset, so deep and devilish. I swear I can feel it reverberating between my legs. My thighs squeeze together, trying to dull the flames threatening to lick at my skin.

It’s crazy, I’ve been gaming with these guys for years and still have no idea what they look like, or even their real names. Honestly, there’s been no need to ask. We get online almost everyday to play our favourite game, we talk and laugh for a few hours and then we say our goodbyes. It’s sad but my relationship with these strangers online is the most stable thing about my life.

I guess that doesn’t say much about my boyfriend, who, by looking at the time on my computer, is about forty minutes late in coming over.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” MourningStar admits with another of those delectable chuckles.

“It’s supposed to be a team game, loser,” I reply, fighting against the smile on my lips.

“Um, correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure you’re the loser?” he states matter-of-factly with a twist of his usual cheeky humour.

Quietek clears his throat, his genteel Scottish accent appearing in my ear. “Aye well, that’s it for me boys and girls. I’ve got work shit I need to tend to.”

“Here I was thinking we were staying online until JJ’s male friend makes his appearance?” Minxy teases. They’re all too aware of how punctual my boyfriend is not.

I shuffle awkwardly in my seat. “I’m sure he has a good reason.”

The second the words leave my lips, my phone starts to buzz. I don’t have to look at the name on the screen to know it’s Jack. “One second guys.”

I rush to hit mute before I swipe up and put the phone to my ear, knocking my pink headphones to the side in the process. Before I can even say hello, Jack’s apologising.

“Hey babe, sorry I’m running late.”

“Did you run into traffic or…” it’s a stupid thing to say since I live in a tiny Scottish village in the middle of nowhere.

Jack’s like me; he’s lived in the same town his entire life and apart from travelling twenty minutes to work and back every weekday, he doesn’t venture far. I might not have committed to leaving completely but I had some sense when it came to small town living and moved three miles out of the centre as soon as I could. I liked being closer to the water, and I liked the silence my village offered.

Jack and I hadn’t known each other our entire lives. Well, I knew him. He didn’t pay much attention to me in high school as we ran in different groups. He was popular and sporty, one of the typical Scottish rugby boys that make it their entire personality. Me? I’d spent the majority of my high school years in the art room, avoiding social interaction to the best of my ability. Even back then the most social interaction I got was when I would get home and play The Sims. Bella Goth and I were tight back in the day.

“No, no,” Jack chuckles. “The lads invited me out for a couple pints and I didn’t want to be rude. I’m at The Cairn, I won’t be much longer.” I can hardly hear him over the background chatter and terrible music. The Cairn is one of three pubs in town, usually the first stop with its cheap pints and even cheaper shots.

“So you won’t make it over,” I grumble, knowing that if he’s a few pints deep already that there’s no way he’ll forgo a night on the town with the lads to spend an evening with me watching movies and eating junk food. I think about the order I placed at the one and only take-away within thirty miles. In about fifteen minutes there’ll be two fourteen-inch pizzas, a side of fries and a side of chicken wings appearing on my doorstep. It sounds like I’ll be hosting my very own competitive eating contest.

There’s a kerfuffle on the other end of the phone before he answers. “Aye, I’ll take a baby Guinness or two!” he pauses, laughing against the sound of music. “Yeah babe, I’ll be late but I’ll still make it. You’re not going to tell me I can’t spend at least a few hours with the boys, are ye?”

I don’t even have enough time to answer before he’s yelling across the line once again.

“Keep my side of the bed warm for me and I promise I’ll make it up to you when I get home.”

My eyes roll, and not in the way I’d been hoping they would this evening. Not that Jack has ever truly made my eyes roll or my toes curl or any of those other delicious things I feel I’m missing out on. “Don’t bother, Jack. I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good night out.”

“Don’t be like that babe,” he coos.

“Seriously, Jack. Don’t come over here when the pubs close.” I do not have the energy to clean piss out of my bedroom wardrobe for the second time this month. Jack’s a pain in the ass when he’s sober but he’s a thousand times worse when he’s drunk. I ask myself almost daily why I bother keeping him around and honestly, I’m yet to find a concrete answer. A large part of me thinks it’s because I’m frightened of being alone, but the sensible side of me knows our relationship isn’t viable in the long term. I guess breaking up with him just feels like something I’ll do in the long term but not right this second.

Jack clears his throat,“Fine, I’ll see you Sunday for lunch. My mum’s place, two in the afternoon, yeah?”

Fuck. I’d forgotten about Sunday lunch at Trudy’s place, they’d been on their yearly holiday to Benidorm the last three weeks so I hadn’t been put through my regular torture. Guess all I have to look forward to this weekend is dry beef and even dryer conversation.

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