Make Your Move

by Laura Heffernan

  I reminded myself that Tyler didn’t know what she did, and I couldn’t tell him when it was my word against hers. Instead, I decided to focus on the positive. “Overall, work is pretty good. I’ve got Ryan. Plus, I mean, I get to make games for a living. Six-year-old Shannon is ecstatic to do what I do every day. If I don’t think about Dennis, I love my job.”

  “I’m sorry he’s so terrible.” His sharp eyes saw through my pretense, looking at me with concern that melted my heart. Tyler always gave me the impression that if he could, he would make everything better. But we weren’t here to talk about my problems.

  “Thank you.” I paused long enough for him to see that I truly appreciated the fact that he cared. “Want to play a game?”

  Not waiting for him to reply, I headed for the first booth on my left. Inside, vendors sold an expansion pack to a board game about building train lines. Gwen hated expansions, said they ruined the “purity” of the game. Personally, I liked getting new adventures or goals in a game I’d already learned. As a designer, I understood the need to create continuing income streams from the same game whenever possible. It was typically much easier to get people to buy an expansion for a game they knew and loved than to hook them on a completely new, untried concept.

  That was the one drawback of The Haunted Place. As a legacy-style game, the campaign could be played exactly once. Each campaign took place over multiple gaming sessions, but once completed, that was it. The base set couldn’t be expanded because the board changed with every level played. I could write a sequel, and hoped to, if the first game did well. Already, ideas swirled in my head. But no expansions.

  Still, legacy games typically sold for more than your average game because they took significantly longer to play. They were hot at the moment, as a relatively new concept. With a bit of luck and some good press, everything would work out. Maybe I could try writing a new set of rules that would apply to the changed game players found themselves with when the campaign ended. Let those who already owned the game download it for free. Hmm.

  According to the sign-up sheet, the creators of the game we looked at would be presenting it for play in the room across the hall in five minutes. Several seats remained. Just enough time to refill my water bottle and grab a seat. After dashing our names across the sheet, I took Tyler’s hand and headed for the other room. Once the designers finished their spiel, we sat across from each other and started setting up seamlessly, as one.

  From the moment we sat down, the day flew by in a flurry of games and laughing and piece placement and dice rolling and networking. We played games alone and games with strangers. We found competitive games, cooperative games, social deduction games, and some with elements of all three. I talked to every game designer who had a few minutes to spare while Tyler made a list of Christmas gifts. I loved every second of it.

  By the time we took a break for dinner, I’d come up with about fifteen games I wanted to buy and seven ideas for new games to make, both for adults and kids. Nothing to appeal to dads, unfortunately, but I’d get over that someday. Probably.

  I’d gotten the contact information for the convention organizers to see about setting up a booth for myself next year and obtained the names of three distributors who might be able to make my games cheaply enough to increase my profit margins. We’d even found a tournament with the new version of Construct Me taking place the next day and put our names on the list before it filled up.

  All in all, it was the best day I possibly could have hoped for.

  By the time we stumbled back to our room, I exhibited the kind of delirium that only came from having an amazing, exhausting day. I moved as if drunk, despite not having anything other than water and tea all day.

  “You can use the bathroom first,” Tyler said, kicking off his shoes into the closet. “I’ll change out here and go in when you’re done.”

  “Thanks.” Since it took me longer to go through my nightly makeup removal and skin-care ritual than it took Tyler to change into his pajamas, that made sense. I gathered up my things and staggered toward the door. Then I turned back. “Hey, we can share the bed if you want.”

  “Really? You sure?”

  “Yeah. It’s enormous, and it’s got to be way more comfortable than the couch. We had a long day, and we both need to get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow will be even longer. Just throw a couple of pillows or the extra blanket down the middle. We’re adults, we’ll be fine.”

  “Thanks.” He smiled at me, a lopsided grin that made my stomach do unexpected flip-flops.

  It hit me like a lightning bolt between the eyes. That smile was so sexy. Especially the way his eyes lit… What was I doing?

  Oh, no. This was Tyler. My roommate. I couldn’t suddenly find myself attracted to him. Not now. Not after all the times I’d pretended not to notice his feelings or outright rejected him. And not when he had a girlfriend, for the first time in the two years I’d known him. Why couldn’t my traitorous body have decided to want him six months ago?

  Something must’ve shown on my face, because Tyler’s face fell. “You okay? I’m good on the couch. It’s no big deal.”

  I couldn’t let him know about the thoughts swirling in my head, about the possibility that I might be attracted to him. Most likely, I just needed to get some rest. We’d gotten up at five o’clock in the morning Boston time to catch our flight. We spent an awesome, fun day together. Having warm, fuzzy feelings toward him at the end was perfectly natural. That little jolt meant nothing. It should evaporate by morning. “Sorry, it’s not you. The day sort of caught up with me all at once. Definitely, we can share.”

  Before he could say anything else, I swept up my pajamas and raced into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly, as if that would also shut out the new maelstrom of emotions raging inside me.

  By the time I came out, he’d crawled into the bed on the side closest to the door. A line of pillows marched down the center. I climbed in on the other side, willing myself not to think of how flimsy that barrier was or what lay on the other side.

  I needed a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow, everything would go back to normal. Tyler would just be Tyler, my friend and nothing more. Or so I told myself.

  Chapter 13

  “With the right person, love is always worth the risk. Never give up.” —Cody

  “Unless they get a restraining order.” —Gwen

  The Construct Me tournament started bright and early Saturday morning at eight. Not wanting to be late, I set alarms on my phone for six-thirty and six-forty-five. Tyler set up a fail-safe wakeup call at seven. We dominated this game, and we weren’t about to let someone claim the title of champion because we overslept. I didn’t know what it was, but something about this particular game brought out my inner Gwen.

  After a hard time getting to sleep, I woke up twice before finally overcoming my discomfort with Tyler sleeping so close to me. The row of pillows between us seemed as easily destroyed as wet tissue paper. It wouldn’t take much to toss the barrier aside if either of us wanted to. A few months ago, absolutely Tyler wanted to. This morning, I wished we could. But now, he’d moved on, and I needed to respect his new relationship. Throwing myself into his arms would ruin everything.

  When I finally drifted off, I lay on the edge of the bed, rolled onto my left side, facing the air conditioner and the far wall. Herculean effort kept my spine ramrod straight. Tyler lay on his back when I got up in the night to go to the bathroom, but he maintained the same uncomfortable-looking stiffness as me. He didn’t appear to be asleep, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask.

  He was probably wondering if he’d made a mistake sharing a bed with me, or if Megan would get mad when she found out. I had no idea whether he’d told her about the hotel’s mistake. She wouldn’t be pleased at the thought of me and Tyler even sleeping in the same room, much less a bed. In fact, it surprised me that she’d let Tyler come to the
conference in the first place now that I thought about it.

  I certainly wouldn’t be the one to enlighten her. Not my relationship, not my problem.

  These thoughts clung to me until the sun’s rays peeked into the room, slowly waking me before the alarm went off. I moved in and out of dreams, seeing Tyler and his girlfriend in one (in my dream, oddly enough, he was dating Lana from my roommate search, of all people), eating dinner with Tyler and Nana in another. When I finally opened my eyes, I was dreaming that we’d lost today’s tournament and Tyler was comforting me with a hug. His strong arms embraced me, making me feel completely safe. I leaned back against him, savoring the feel and smell of him.

  The smell? My dreams never involved scents. Images, yes. Smells, no.

  My eyes flew open at the realization. The masculine scent in my nose wasn’t part of a dream, and neither were the strong arms holding me in place. At some point during the night, our pillow barrier had vanished. Tyler and I lay in the center of the bed, his arms wrapped firmly around my torso, one hand making my breasts tingle under his fingers. Meanwhile, my hips wiggled backward. His pelvis cradled my bottom in a way that made me feel safe, secure. From the sound of his breath, he remained asleep.

  Being held left me warm and comfortable. I wanted to stay there, savoring the imprint of his body against mine. The body I couldn’t have, since I’d rejected him and sent him to another woman. The body I’d sworn to myself last night to stop thinking about.

  This was wrong. I shouldn’t be lying here, thinking about the firmness against my lower back. Wondering about what would happen if I turned in his arms and pressed my lips against his. I tried not to remember the morning I walked in on his shower, but the sudden mental image made my thighs ache.

  Why couldn’t I have experienced all these feelings when Tyler kissed me? It was too late to make my move now.

  With a stifled groan of disappointment, I slowly lifted his lower hand from where it lay against my stomach and inched away from him, toward the edge of the bed. I barely breathed, too focused on not jiggling the bed and waking him. It seemed like hours passed before I made it to my destination. A glance at my phone told me that the alarms would go off soon, so I might as well get up. There would be no going back to sleep now, too afraid of wiggling back toward the temptation in the middle of the bed. On the other hand, if I replaced the pillows, I’d either wake Tyler or leave myself so little room to lie down I’d have to balance on one edge and wind up toppling onto the floor. Probably both.

  Sighing softly to myself, I sat up and swung my legs toward the ground. My feet landed on one of the pillows that should have been in the middle of the bed. Tyler’s breath remained the same, slow and steady. As quietly as possible, I pulled a bra and panties out of my suitcase, then grabbed a sundress and matching cardigan from the closet.

  On my way to the bathroom to shower, I sneaked a peek at him. He looked so peaceful with those long, inky lashes against his cheeks. As I watched, he stirred, licking his lips. The movement jerked me back to reality. The only thing more awkward than waking up in Tyler’s arms would be if he opened his eyes now and caught me standing there, mooning over him like some schoolgirl.

  Inside the bathroom, I turned the water on as cold as I could stand, swallowing a shriek when I stepped under the icy blast. It brought me back to reality. We couldn’t be together. It didn’t matter. Tyler was a friend, my roommate, my tenant.

  To calm my raging libido, while I shampooed my hair, I listed all the things about Tyler I didn’t like: He was usually right. I couldn’t figure out when he bluffed at poker. He tiptoed around me like a guest in my home rather than a roommate. He put olives on his pizza. Four not-at-all good reasons to forget about him.

  By the time I finished getting ready, I’d managed to refocus on my energy on our plans for the day.

  “You done in there?” Tyler asked when I finally emerged from the bathroom.

  “Yeah, sorry it took so long.” I avoided his eyes, but he didn’t seem to notice. In fact, from the way he hummed as he showered, he seemed perfectly happy. He must have slept better than I did.

  Of course, it helped that he had no idea about the way our bodies snuggled together in the night. How well we fit. What would have happened if we’d woken up at the same time?

  The bathroom door opened, saving me from that particular brand of mental torture. It didn’t matter. We were here to game.

  I forced myself to act natural, determined not to betray the path my thoughts kept taking. “Ready?”

  “Yeah, you?”

  “Just need my shoes.” Before I even finished my sentence, I’d stepped into them, grabbed my conference badge, and headed for the door.

  He grinned and held it open for me, one hand sweeping out. “After you.”

  The conference didn’t serve breakfast, but the hotel included a buffet. Thanks to the hotel’s mistake in our rooms, we now had two free tickets. With the regular price at nineteen dollars, I couldn’t wait to see what kind of delicacies awaited. Due to my unfortunate lingering, though, we had barely enough time before the tournament to drop in and pick up something to munch on the way. To his credit, Tyler didn’t mention our late start or bemoan the virtually wasted meal vouchers.

  We arrived at the conference room with a few minutes to spare. From what I could tell, the new version of Construct Me didn’t differ in any important way from the original. Same number of pieces, same shapes, and still all the same color. These pieces might not be exactly the same sizes as in the original game, but I couldn’t imagine that mattered to our strategy. The only other difference I noted was that the manufacturer used plastic instead of wood. Maybe they’d updated the pictures on the cards with additional structures.

  No big deal. We still had a plan, and in a few short hours, with luck, Tyler and I would celebrate our victory.

  The tournament used double elimination, so we’d be guaranteed to play at least two games. But with the system we’d worked out, I expected to go all the way. So did Tyler.

  We took our places and waited for our opponents to join us. Mentally, I reviewed our names for each piece while we waited. From the way Tyler examined the table, he did the same thing. We didn’t speak, not wanting to give away our strategy to any competitors who happened to overhear.

  To make things fair, in each round of the tournament, every team sought to create the same structure. Twenty teams scattered around the room, with two teams per table directly competing against each other. The tables were spaced widely enough that players at one wouldn’t be able to easily see or overhear what happened at the others. The winning pair would move on to the next round. The losing teams dropped into a second bracket where they’d play each other until only one team remained. Then that final team would then return to the top bracket and play an undefeated team.

  In the first round, we wound up facing off against two women, Hilary from Austin and Liz from Sacramento. I didn’t get a chance to ask how they knew each other. About thirty seconds after we took our places, an Asian woman with long, dark brown hair and an official-looking clipboard held her hand up for silence.

  “Good morning, everyone, and welcome to the Construct Me tournament!” Scattered applause popped up around the room. After a moment, she continued, “I’m Shana, the head judge. Bear with me a minute while I explain the rules for those of you who haven’t played before, and we’ll be starting soon.”

  “Why would anyone play a tournament if they don’t know the rules?” I whispered to Tyler.

  “For fun.” He smiled at me. “You sound like Cody. It’s not always about winning.”

  He was right, of course. For me, games were about the journey, not the destination. I usually didn’t care who won, even in cooperative games, as long as the process kept me entertained. Yet, for some reason, I wanted the excitement of winning together, the exhilaration of seeing what a great team the two
of us made. Playing brought us closer together, but winning an entire tournament would cement our bond in a way I very much wanted.

  If I were a petty person, I’d say it was to give me the ability to lord our win over Megan. As much as I tried to get along with everyone, our encounters always left a bad taste in my mouth. Tyler was smart, funny, and caring. Loyal. He could find a woman so much better for him. Someone who loved games as much as he did. Someone who was standing about six inches away from him…

  “Also,” he said, breaking into my unhelpful thoughts, “the bystanders need to know what we’re doing.”

  Shana spoke into the microphone. “Is everyone ready? Instructors, draw your cards.”

  From the table, I picked up a card with a picture of an object in it. It contained more pieces than the games Tyler and I played when we practiced, but didn’t seem too challenging. Across the table from me, my partner looked up from the pieces he organized and smiled at me.

  “A reminder,” Shana said, “that your construction must remain stable long enough for a judge to come around and check it for accuracy. If the structure falls before we get there, you must rebuild it. The other team can continue working during this time. Anyone who intentionally topples another team’s construction will be disqualified.”

  Yikes. Intentional toppling? This was serious business.

  “Ready? On your mark, get set… construct me!”