Page 89 of Playing Games

I input my updated data on statistical chances for AI-technology errors into the diagnostic test app I created for my own personal use in finalizing my dissertation. The updated data shows zero change from what I had originally entered prior to finishing my dissertation, but still, I never go off assumptions.

The internal results show no major differential change, and for some reason, I feel annoyed that I don’t need to make any last-minute updates to my dissertation.

A sigh escapes my lungs, the opposite reaction one should have when they realize there are zero errors with the final milestone of their graduate school career.

And it’s not long before my phone is back in my hands and I’m staring down at the last text Blake sent me. The wordsI miss youstanding out the most of them all.

“What are you doing?” a familiar voice grabs my attention, and I look up to find Connor walking into the lab.

“Oh, nothing,” I answer, clearing my throat and putting my phone back on the table facedown. “But I think the bigger question is, why are you here? You never come over to Ferris.”

“It’s the homestretch, Lex. I have exactly one week to finish my thesis or else I can kiss my doctorate goodbye. And I guess I needed a little change of pace.”

I tilt my head to the side. “Finish it? As in, you’re still working on it?”

“Not all of us are übergeniuses, you know,” he retorts with a smile as he sits down across from me.

“You got a perfect score on your SAT, Connor.” I snort. “And you’re currently in one of the hardest engineering doctorate programs in the country. You’re smart.”

“But I’m notLexismart.”

I roll my eyes, and he just laughs.

I’ve known Connor for what feels like my whole life. He was my first boyfriend when I was thirteen, and we were in a relationship for most of my high school career. He’s always been a good friend and a challenging academic partner. But as he starts to open his laptop and dive into whatever he needs to achieve today, I can’t stop myself from asking him the one question that rolls around inside my head.

“What was it like to date me?”

His head jerks back, and his eyes snap to mine. “Excuse me?”

“What was it like to date me?” I repeat.

He searches my eyes carefully. “You want me to tell you what it was like for me to have you as my girlfriend?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“It was uh…fine,” he answers. But his voice wavers a little as he adds, “It was good.”

I’ve never been good at catching social cues—it’s always a huge challenge for me—but there’s something in the way his voice sounds that makes me feel like he’s not giving me an honest answer.

“Are you telling me the truth?”

Connor just stares at me.

“Connor, did you just lie to me?”

“Shit.” He lets out a confusing laugh. “I mean, yeah, I guess I did a little.”

I narrow my eyes.

“I mean…” He pauses and runs a hand through his hair. “I mean… Do you really want me to answer your question honestly?”

“I wouldn’t ask it if I didn’t want an accurate answer. I wouldn’t waste that time.”

He searches my eyes for a long moment, but eventually, he lets out a deep exhale and says, “It wasn’t easy, Lex. I really liked you, and you hurt me pretty badly. You were my first girlfriend, and I think I loved you back then. And when you broke up with me, it was like, one day, you just decided it was done. No realreason. No emotions. Just done. It took me a while to get over you.”

“But you said you were fine with being friends after… Why would you want to be my friend if I hurt you?”

“I don’t know. I just did,” he responds with a shrug. “I guess I thought, deep down, you might eventually want to be my girlfriend again, but when that didn’t happen, I decided to make the best of it. Now, I’m happy I did that. I love the friendship we have. You’ll always be important to me.”

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