Page 34 of Playing Games

“Yeah, that’s him. What’s his deal?”

She tilts her head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…how do you know him? Why do you trust him? Why’s he involved?”

She shakes her head, digging her teeth into her bottom lip. “I’ve…known him what feels like forever. When we both came to Dickson, we maintained a friendship, and I don’t know…the rest of it just seemed natural. He understands me better than a lot of people do.”

“I’m jealous.”

“Of what?” she asks, her brows drawing together.

“Of his knowledge,” I reply simply. “I want to know you too.”

Blushing, she turns back toward her computer and sets the lo mein on the table next to the keyboard, swapping it for chicken and popping open the top. I toss a shrimp into my mouth and then switch to the fried rice, scooping a forkful into my mouth and chewing before moving my line of conversation to something a little less scary.

“So, what have you been here working on all day? Something with your dissertation?”

She pauses briefly, her fork hovering in front of her mouth with a juicy piece of sesame chicken. I can’t explain it, but it almost seems like she’s more afraid of this question than any of the others.

“Uh…yeah. Sort of. I’m mostly finished with the official paper, but I’m still doing some related research.”

“And what’s your topic again?”

“Advancing technology with artificial-intelligence-based code.”

I snort, feigning brain cells I don’t have. “Oh. Yeah. Of course. I’ve always been really curious about that too.”

“It’s a fancy way of saying we should let the computer do the hard work for us. We input data, and the computer writes the algorithm to give us whatever answer we’re looking for.”

“But isn’t all AI essentially human-taught to start with?”

“Technically, yes.” She nods. “It gets all of its data from us, but it has way more analytical capability than we do. It can take in an abundance of information and build conclusions at a substantially quicker rate.”

“Right. Cool.”

She laughs, and I shrug. “I’m just a dumb jock.”

“Jock, yes, but dumb, no,” she disagrees. “In fact, I’d say you’re a lot more intelligent where it counts than I am.”

“What’s that mean?”

She shifts in her seat a little, sighing. “I’m not good with…social things. Interacting. Understanding emotional needs. Relationships. And trust me, those things come up in everyday life a lot more than AI coding.”

“I think you’re better at it than you think you are.”

“You do?” she asks. And before I can respond, she quietly adds in a voice that barely rises above the hum of the computers, “Because I know being neurodivergent can make me come off as quirky or even cold to other people.”

There’s a vulnerability in her admission. But it doesn’t exactly come as a surprise to me. To me, Lexi Winslow is different in the best kind of way. I mean, clearly, you don’t pursue a woman like I’ve been pursuing her without being completely enamored.

“Lex. Everyone who knows you loves you. They speak highly of you, and they want to be around you.” I lean forward, putting just one hand on her knee and watching as her eyes jerk down to look at it and then back up to meet mine, albeit a little wider. “That doesn’t just happen. If you have a weakness, you obviously have other strengths that make people want to pick up the slack.” I smile. “Take your relationship with me, for example. Your weakness is pursuing and accepting my company. I makeup for that by being willing to chase you all over campus like a stalker.”

She laughs, just like I was hoping she would, and I run my hand a little higher up her thigh. She doesn’t stop me. In fact, her body sways toward me in a promising display of yearning for more.

Leaning forward slowly, I touch my lips to hers, a soft, slow kiss of promised intention. She melts into it, sighing softly when I slip my tongue past her lips and just barely touch it to the tip of hers.

But despite the fact that every cell in my body wants to continue this, wants to keep kissing her, I break it off before it can turn heated, and she chases me forward, back toward my chair, with a sway of her body.

It’s exactly what I’m hoping for, even if it’s simultaneously the worst form of torture.

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