Page 18 of sWitch

My game chair was a thrifted, pink armless piece from the eighties. The wooden bars uncomfortably bruised my lower back. More hours, more missions, and I had to make it to the end of this stupid game to face the hell that awaited me. With a sigh, I lit a candle at my desk. Peony wildflower. I’d made it to keep me and the kittens company while I fought goblins and trolls, searched for dragons, and healed wayward travelers on my endless virtual quest. The smell of flowers slowly drowned out the smell of canned meat and flea collars. The small flicker of the flame another presence in the room, the occasional dog bark downstairs, and the sound of the trash truck outside— all little companions tricking me into feeling less alone. They lied to me, saying if I could beat this, I could pursue friendships again. Remy would never know— and maybe Remy would be my friend…maybemore? No, that wasn’t possible. No way. Like she’d want me anyway.

Three months ago, I would have clocked out and jumped on my Vesper to get boba with my friends—or who I thought were my friends. I guess they weren’t. We’d stop by the beauty supply store and dye our hair whatever color looked brightest before ordering Chinese food and watchingThe Princess BrideandMonty Pythonall night long. Maybe we would play Mario Cart too.

Gaming had always been something fun to do before bed, but now, this RPG had consumed my life—because of her. Because of what I knew they’d done. Shame gripped my throat as my witch avatar bobbed on her broom above the bright green lettering.

CONTINUE GAME?

Did I have a choice?

I clicked yes.

And my second job began.

LEVEL 7

PLAYER ONE: REMY

Metal clinked,and Trevor huffed as he did his reps on the bench. As I spotted him, I resisted the urge to scratch my itchy new arm tattoos. The second-skin on my leg with another random tattoo stretched against my flesh during my five-mile run on the treadmill. New tattoos and working out fucking sucked, but I’d never say no to being inked up, and I’d been at the tattoo shop all week.

When I wasn’t working, I was staring at Fauna’s little ONLINE NOW dot on V for Valin. She played all night long. Did she not go out with friends? Why hadn’t she been hanging out with my brother? What about this RPG made her invest each and every evening for hours and hours? I watched her like a stalker with my sound on high, hoping for a chat notification to ping.

Nothing.

Trevor stretched his tricep and stood. “Your turn.”

I laid back on the bench and gripped the barbell. “Why do you never bring your girlfriend over?” Bold of me to ask, but I was desperate for information.

“Why do you care?”

Five reps and a break. “Curious.”

Trevor’s eye roll caught my attention from the gym mirrors. “I don’t know, we share a room. It’s weird.”

“Never stopped you before.”

My brother helped me lower the barbell back into position, and I sat up, wiping my neck with a towel.

His jaw tensed, and he avoided my gaze. “She’s different.”

Oh, fuck. In that moment, I felt like the piece of shit I was. Did he… Could he… Did my twin actually like her? I mean, of course he liked her, she was his girlfriend. Who wouldn’t like Fauna Belrose? With her quirky, colorful charm and those dimples when she smiled… But there was the small problem that I was falling for her—along with sort-of dancing along the lines of fucking her on the side. This wasn’t good.

My brother picked up a free weight. “You’re such a hypocrite.”

My ribs tightened like I’d been punched. What did he know? “How so?”

“Why’s your girlfriend never over?”

I let out a small breath of relief. “Because I keep forgetting to break up with her.”

“That’s fucked up. MJ is a nice girl, and she’s got kids, Remy. Don’t jerk around the feelings of a woman like that—I can guarantee you, a woman as accomplished and beautiful as Mary Jane doesn’t have time for your bullshit.”

I raised an eyebrow, fighting off the sinking feeling of shame. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” he answered quickly. “By the way, dinner at Mom and Dad’s next week.”

I groaned. “Fuck no.”

“I’ve put them off for months. They want to have a whole fancy-ass thing.”

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