Page 14 of Level Up
“So,is this going to be like a major nerd-fest?”
Pal seems even more excited than I am as the three of us make our way to B.A. Start Games, my favourite indie-owned gaming store and the only place I ever buy physical games anymore.
The shop is several blocks away from the pub, and on the walk over I realize that my sweater-over-sweater outerwear choice this evening didn’t really account for the wind currently whipping through the chunky knits. The shop is on a side street, at least, so the buildings around it should block out some of the wind while we wait.
“Not in a good way,” I tell them, tucking my hands up into my sleeves and burrowing my chin in the collar of my outermost sweater.
“Oh, hey, we should all go to FanFare Canada next year!” they say eagerly. “I haven’t been inages.”
“I don’t really do big crowded venues,” Victory says, shaking her head. “Sensory overwhelm.”
“Ah, yeah. That’s cool.” Pal takes her hand in theirs, which I only notice when I turn my head to glance back at them.
“We could always just—” I get cut off when I round the corner onto the side street and smack right into a brick wall. A warm, nice-smelling, plaid-covered brick wall that, when I stumble a step backwards, looks kind of person-shaped.
The very un-wall-like wall turns to face me, and it is, in fact, a person. Who doesn’t look all that pleased to have just been accidentally assaulted by a slightly tipsy pile of sweaters.
“Sorry!” I say, loud enough for other people to glance our way. But he doesn’t seem to accept my apology, because he’s still looking at me like I’m?—
Oh heck no.
“You!” I point a finger at him, and he jerks back. The harsh lights outside the shop make it glaringly obvious that he looks familiar, right down to the not-quite-blond brown hair. “You were in the shop this week!”
His eyes dart sideways, and I think he’s trying to find an escape route from this conversation—if it can be called that—but then someone comes up from behind and stands next to him with an arm casually slung over his shoulder.
The plaid not-a-wall is reasonably tall, sure, but his friend practically towers over him. He’s wearing a maroon velvet jacket that goes all the way to the ground, despite his height—it must be custom-made. It could be a costume, but I don’t recognize the character fromStones. Everything about him isgrand, though. Larger than life.
“She said sorry, man,” Velvet says to Plaid before looking at me and studying me for a moment. He frowns and then smiles. “Oh shit!” he says with a laugh, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “Is she that streamer?”
My eyes go wide, and I try to hide my burning cheeks behind my oversized sweater. I think I’ve just been recognized from The Interwebs, and I’ve never had this happen to me before. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I don’t have tosign an autograph, do I? I don’t even remember how to spell my name right now.
Plaid looks absolutely pained by all of this, but his friend is pleased as punch. “Damien is a big fan,” Velvet says, and Plaid elbows him in the ribs.
“And…this is Damien?” I ask, pointing at—but not addressing—the plaid one.
“Yep, this is Damien,” Velvet replies, still grinning, “although his onlinefursonais SconesOfAyor?—”
“That’s not whatfursonameans,” Plaid mutters—no, Damien—no,Scones.
A mix of shock, terror, horror, anxiety, curiosity, panic, and a sudden awareness of my own bad breath hits me like an actual brick wall.
“Shit,” I say quietly, exhaling into my pushed-up collar. Without permission, my eyes flick to his mouth and—yep—it’s definitely him.
“You’reScones?” Victory says, taking a step towards him in a vaguely menacing way, like the overprotective best friend that she is. (She’s my favourite person.)
“Hold on, this guy’s your nemesis?” Pal asks me with a laugh, jutting their thumb towards him. They give him a once-over and raise an eyebrow at me. “You sure about that?”
“Nemesis?” Scones asks, looking about as confused as I feel right now.
I cover my face with both sleeve-wrapped hands. “This isn’t happening,” I mumble to myself.
“You just let all of yourgamer brostrash Audrey and did nothing about it!” Victory says to him.
I peek through my hands and can see that he still looks like he wants to run away.Well, so do I, buddy.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He looks towards his friend for assistance, but Velvet just shrugs and looks back at me.
“I’m Malcolm by the way,” Velvet says, reaching out for a handshake. I kind of thought we don’t do that anymore, here in the 2020s, but I shake his hand anyway—with my sleeve between us. He seems to find it funny.
