Page 53 of Level Up
I quickly take a drink to obscure the blush rising up my neck and face.
My thoughts about kissing him last week—and the subsequent dream that I’m still trying to pretendnever happened—probably had more to do with feeling like we had something in common. It was like Cameron, in that way, I suppose. I liked him as a person, and I confused it with romantic interest. Fine, whatever. I can deal with that.
But it occurs to me now, sitting across from him, that Damien might actually be kindahot.
I can’t know for sure, though, because I have never thought that about someone. It’s not a thing I notice. Sure, I can usually tell when someone is conventionally attractive or aesthetically pleasing to look at, but I’ve never looked at a person and thought:hot.
I hook a finger under the collar of my turtleneck to let a little air in, hoping that it’s not obvious that I’ve started sweating. What the hell is wrong with me?
“Audrey?” The sound of my best friend’s voice snaps me out of my fevered trance, and I look up to see Victory and Pal standing next to our table. “I didn’t realize you’d be here tonight.”
She sounds delighted that I’m here and reaches over to give me a hug. Standing, she’s still shorter than me, sitting on this bar chair.
“And Sc—Damien,” she says, looking over at him with a smile, though I can tell his presence catches her off-guard. “Hi!”
“How’s it going, Glasses?” Pal asks him.
“Not too bad,” he says with a self-conscious smile. It’s no less charming, though. “And you?”
“It is goinggreatfor me,” they reply with a self-satisfied grin. “Thank you so much for asking.” They slap him on the shoulder and then walk around to his other side to take a seat in the chair beside him.
“Uh, I guess we’re joining you?” Victory says to me with an apologetic shrug before scooting behind me to get to the other chair.
“Yeah, of course,” I say with a laugh, trying to mask my obvious discomfort. I don’t particularly want these two huge parts of my life—my real life with Victory, full of history, and my gaming life with Damien, new and fragile—to intertwine, but it would be rude to kick them out.
“I figure it’s not like we’re intruding,” Pal says, leaning casually on one elbow. “Since this isn’t adateor anything. Because you’rejust friends.”
Damien glances at me, sharing a look that reflects everything I’m feeling: annoyed by my friends’ interference while at the same time trying not to burst out laughing at how ridiculousthe situation is. (I also make a mental note never to let Pal and Malcolm be in the same room together.)
“You’re welcome to join us,” I say to them with a smile. “We were just talking about video games.”
“When are you not?” Pal scoffs.
“Exactly my point.”
“I was saying it would be nice if real life gave you dialogue options, like an RPG,” Damien adds with a shrug, lifting his glass to his mouth again. I make a point not to track the motion with my eyes.
Victory seems to consider this for a moment and then nods. “Could be useful.”
“What’re you drinking, Aud?” Pal asks, reaching across the table to swipe my beer and sniff it. They take a sip and wrinkle their nose before taking another sip, and then nod. “Yeah, okay.”
“Um…” I stare at them blankly for a moment. “That was Damien’s first,” I say, pointing to him.
I’m used to Pal stealing sips of my drink, at the pub or the coffee shop—they very quickly inserted themself as a close friend by proximity to Victory, and I just went with it because they can be incredibly endearing, despite being the most obnoxious person I know—but it seems weird for them to share a glass with Damien when they hardly know him.
Then again, it didn’t seem weird when I shared his glass.
Pal shrugs, completely unfazed, and slides my drink back to me. “If I was worried about catching the C-word from you, I wouldn’t be sitting right here,” they say to him.
“Well, I’m vaccinated. And I wouldn’t go out in public if I thought there was a chance I had anything,” he says with an awkward laugh.
“Good to know.” They give him another pat on the shoulder and then swipe his glass to take a sip as well. “Oh, this one’s better.”
“Audrey ordered that one,” Damien says, nodding in my direction, and I feel my face heating up all over again. Like he’s bragging on my behalf for ordering the better drink.
Pal orders their own glass of the same beer and Victory gets her usual ginger ale, and we settle in for a couple more hours, though I don’t know how to act in this situation. I feel like the person I am with Victory and Pal isn’t the same as who I am with Damien, and I don’t know whichmeI’m supposed to be here.
It’s like all the new subscribers on Play’N who joined after mySOAstream. How do I give them what they want—what I may want, too—when my regulars expect something else? Which version of me is the real one?
