Game All Night

by Helms, Lauren

  She rolls her eyes before continuing, “No, Link isn’t here. Dork.”

  “What about him?” I sigh.

  “The tickets, to meet your idol. It’s a huge, I-know-you-better-than-anyone kind of gift. It's something a boyfriend would get his girl kind of gift. And Link … he got it for you.”

  I stutter at this, I don’t really know how to proceed. Honestly, I haven’t given his gift much thought other than the awesomeness of it. I’ve spent more time thinking of the words he said, about how he would treat me if I were his.

  She continues though, “You two butt heads like a couple of fighting bulls. I know you guys are friends—that you really do get along sometimes. You don’t outwardly hate each other like Simon and Gia used too. So, this isn’t really an enemies-to-lovers story.” She looks thoughtful as she contemplates this.

  I can’t help but snort. . She and Morgan read a lot of romance, they have a two-person book club. It’s their thing.

  “So, your story is more like friends to lovers, I think. Because you guys are friends, aren’t you?” She looks at me thoughtfully.

  “Yes, we are, is that okay with you?” I ask, kind of confused as to where she’s going with this.

  “Oh, of course it is. We’ve been wondering how long it was going to take you two, to you know …” She waggles her eyebrows up and down.

  “You read erotica and you can’t say words like, have sex, screw, fuck? I’ve also heard the way you talk while playing CoB, you could make a sailor blush, but when it comes to talking about getting freaky between the sheets, you can’t say it?” I’m laughing because I’ve noticed this is common with Bernie.

  She blushes. “Whatever, I’m just shy when it comes to talking about sex. I can read it all day, but talking about it in real life, I don’t — hey! Nice try, turning this around on me. We are talking about you, and about Link.”

  I huff, because I was trying to change the subject.

  “Really though. What’s going on with you two?”

  “I don’t know, okay?” I snap, but don’t mean to, so I take a deep breath and offer an apologetic smile. “We are friends. We get along when it’s just us. I like helping him with his videos. But sometimes when his ego gets too big, he needs it knocked down a peg or two. We seem to work well that way, really. We do talk a lot when we aren’t at each other’s throats.” I shrug.

  “Hmm. Yeah, I can see all that,” she says, nodding her head thoughtfully. She gazes at me, with a smirk. “But have you guys … you know?” she asks, waggling her eyebrows again.

  “Oh my gosh, Bernie. Please just say the word sex. Just this one time. Ask the question again, using the word and I will answer truthfully.” I laugh.

  “Er, fine,” she huffs. “Have you and Link ever,” she lowers her voice, “had sex?”

  “Nope.” I let the “p” pop, and grin because I just made her use the word she likes to avoid saying—and I’m starting to suspect, doing.

  She sits back and crosses her arms. She looks disappointed, if not a little surprised.

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Never? Like never even gotten hot and heavy?”

  And I divert my eyes and scan the room.

  “Ah, you have.” She’s leaning forward, her forearms on the table. “Tell me. Now. Tell me right now, Ruby,” she demands.

  “There’s really nothing to tell,” I offer. Really, it’s not much at all.

  “Oh, yes there is. We’ve all been waiting for this ... for this big Link and Ruby moment, you have to bring me into the loop.”

  I glare at her. “Who do you mean by we?”

  “Me, the girls, the guys. ‘We’. Who else would I be talking about?” She waves my glare away.

  Still, I stare her down.

  “Oh stop, it’s not like you can’t expect it. Think of all the times we speculated about Gia and Simon!” She has a point.

  “Touché,” I offer, relaxing in my seat.

  “So …” Her expression is eager.

  “Really, it’s a story for another time,” I offer.

  “Oh, fuck that! Tell me now, damn it.” She throws her hands up in the air and I can’t help but laugh at her.

  “Fine, it’s not a big deal. It was a few years ago, when Morgan was in that accident. One night, on those first couple of days when things were touch and go, Link and I went back to his apartment to get Dex a change of clothes. We were both caught up in our emotions about Morgan’s accident and we ended up making out. Got a little hot and heavy as you put it, but it didn’t last long or get too far before we came to our senses. End of story.”

  “So totally not end of story. Did you talk about it? I don’t understand how you just start making out with someone. Something had to have triggered it.”

  “Well, sure. I mean, it’s not like we just fell onto each other’s faces. I think he just hugged me and well … it went from there.” I don’t think, I know exactly how it happened. It played on repeat in my brain for weeks after that. Things were also way awkward between Link and me for a couple of months too.

  Sighing, I notice our bills on the table. I gaze at mine and pick it up.

  “Hmm,” she mutters. I ignore her and fish out a twenty from my wallet while Bernie does the same.

  Before the conversation can go any further, Trish stops by our table to collect our money. We both tell her to keep the change and wave a goodbye. I grab my purse and look to Bernie to confirm she’s ready.

  That’s when I see she’s just studying me, waiting for more. I sigh. Again.

  “Bern, we made out once, a long time ago. We are friends, that’s all. There is nothing going on between me and Link,” I offer her and hope she gets the vibes I’m throwing out. I want to be done with the conversation. It’s been some hard and rough girl talk.

  She bites her lip, but her face softens. Then she opens a can of worms and tosses it in my lap, “Rubes, maybe there should be.” At that, she scoots out of the booth.

  Chapter Twelve

  Ruby

  Two days after my dinner with Bernie, where she pretty much told me that I was in a relationship with the wrong guy, I’m restless. Okay, so she might not have said those exact words, but I read between the lines. Now it's all I can think about.

  A week ago, I wouldn’t have thought twice about Link in a romantic way. But then he had to go all caveman on me and tell me that he’d try his damnedest to never make me cry. This on top of the most epic gift, and then all the doubt I have filling my head about Mason. I’m a mess.

  I haven’t slept well. I’m cranky. It’s too early for me to blame PMS, so it’s strictly my messed-up mind. My messed-up mind on guys.

  Damn it.

  At some point, you’re too old to be messed up due to the opposite sex, right? Or as females, are we bound to a life where guys make us cranky? Is it a woman’s lot in life? We can’t live with them, but we can’t live without them? Therefore, we are doomed to be cranky.

  I text Mason mid-morning, asking him to lunch. When I allow him to pick the place and am flexible on the time, he normally says yes to our occasional lunch dates.

  I’ve decided I just need to talk to him. I might make him mad, but if we are meant to be, we can work it out. I need to talk to him about how he makes me feel in regard to my job, the way I dress, my hobbies. I also want to address the fact that my best friends are either gamers or marrying them. That I’m not okay with him insulting them, whether we are with them or behind their backs. I’ve got to use some finesse when bringing all this up; I don’t want to make him mad. I don’t want to attack him, but I need him to understand my plight.

  I don’t see him as I enter the sports bar near his office, so I grab a small table in the corner as far away from the TVs as possible. Not that it matters, the guy is turned into all things sports anyway, but I want as much of his attention as I can get.

  Nearly ten minutes later, I’m starting to text him to find out where he’s at, when the chair acr
oss me scrapes the floor.

  “Hey, sorry, I had to take a call out front,” Mason tells me and takes a seat.

  “You had to take it? You were supposed to be here ten minutes ago,” I say with more bite than I meant. I’m just getting annoyed with the fact that he is always freaking late.

  “Yeah, Ruby, it was a work call.” He seems to ignore my bite and picks up the menu. This is his go-to place for lunch, he knows everything they serve, and he only ever gets one of three things. He doesn’t need to look at the damn menu, but whatever.

  I look down at my own menu, unable to clearly read the words. I’m more blinded by anger than not.

  “So, I don’t have that long to eat, I’ve got a meeting over on the other side of town,” he says, looking around for a server. He must locate one, because his hand goes up in the air and he finger waves to someone.

  “So, maybe you shouldn’t have been late,” I mutter under my breath.

  The server comes over and takes our order. I’m not really hungry, so I do something I never do. I order a salad.

  I slide my menu back into the holder at the table as the server walks away. When I focus back on Mason, he’s smiling at me.

  “What?”

  “Oh, I’m just surprised you ordered a salad.”

  “Why? I eat salad.” And I do, but usually just as a side with whatever my main meal is. Sometimes.

  “No, it’s just nice to see you finally taking care of your body. I’ve noticed you’ve started to put on a few pounds. I didn’t want to say anything.” He takes a drink of his soda. He doesn’t use a straw, and that grosses me out, but I’m too irked and annoyed to hand him a straw like I would normally do.

  “Actually, that’s one of the reasons why I gave you the gift card, I was hoping you’d realize it when you were trying on new clothes. I know women can be sensitive to their weight issues, so I was trying to be passive about it.” He takes another gulp of soda under my stare.

  And fuck me, he keeps talking.

  “But even so, Ruby, I’m glad to see you order a salad for once. It’s just heathier than all that junk you normally consume.”

  I don’t even know where to start. I shake my head.

  “So, what did you want to talk about?” he asks, leaning his crossed arms on the table. His posture would indicate to anyone outside our little bubble that he is leaning in, focused on what I’m saying. But he’s looking past my right shoulder to the TV.

  I struggle mentally for a second to gather my thoughts, completely thrown off by the verbal diarrhea that just came out of his mouth.

  But what I came here to talk to him about is not what comes out.

  “Did you just tell me I’m getting fat?”

  He straightens, looks at me this time, and says, “No, of course not. I love your curves and that ass.” He tries for a male look of appreciation. “That ass is something else, Ruby.”

  “But you just said—” I start, but he cuts me off.

  “No, I just meant that I’m glad you are taking a healthier approach to your lifestyle,” he amends, like that makes what he said better.

  He chuckles to himself, his eyes cut back to the TV.

  I just look at him. I take the next few minutes to study him.

  I used to find him so attractive. He was nice, and funny, and he said sweet things in the beginning. In the past several weeks his personality has started to change, the sweet compliments he used to pay me have now turned into complaints. Things I should change about myself and the things and people that are important to me.

  I look at him now, really look at him. And I realize that I feel nothing for him. Except anger. I feel a lot of anger.

  Anger at his words now, and for the things he has said to me over the past few weeks.

  I'm also angry at myself for letting him say these things to me.

  Now, I’m done.

  Right as I have this aha moment, the server places our food on the table. Mason picks up his burger — yeah, his big, greasy, fatty, bad-for-you-burger—and takes a big bite.

  I don’t even touch my fork.

  But I take advantage of his mouth being full to say, “I’m breaking up with you, Mason.”

  He coughs, and while I’m mad and so incredibly done with him, I don’t want him to choke.

  I push his soda closer to him.

  “What?” he croaks out through coughs and a few sips of soda.

  “I’m breaking up with you,” I repeat.

  He’s pretty much under control now as he takes a big swig of soda.

  “What? I mean, why?” he asks, thoroughly confused.

  “I wanted to talk to you today about some issues I was having with our relationship. I was hoping we could get some things cleared up and move on. But then,” I hold up my hand with one finger pointing to the ceiling, “you showed up late, again, like you always do.” Adding another finger, I continue, “You only gave me half of your attention, like you always do. Then you insulted my weight. Which I’ll give you, is a new one. But insulting my lifestyle is not, which you did as well.” I finish with four fingers up, then drop my hand back into my lap.

  “So, you’re breaking up with me because my job is my number one priority and I made some offhanded comment about your weight? Are you PMSing?” he looks angry now, and I’m only getting angrier with every word out of his mouth.

  “No, Mase,” I seethe out Link’s nickname for him, the one he hates. “I’m breaking up with you because you are an ass and I’m tired of you insulting me.”

  “How the hell do I insult you?” he scoffs.

  “Really?” I say in disbelief. “You insult my job by telling me to get a new one. You insult my hobbies by acting uninterested whenever I bring them up, and you insult my friends by looking down your nose at them, both when they are around and when they aren’t.”

  He doesn’t reply, the anger starts to drain from his face. He looks more thoughtful, but he doesn’t look sorry in the least.

  “Do you have any more questions?” I ask, willing myself to take a relaxing breath as the adrenaline pounds its way through my veins.

  “No,” he's says on a sigh. He picks up his burger and takes another bite. I just stare at him, trying not to gape.

  He chews, and I wait. Should I get up and leave? That’s what I’m thinking about doing when he sets down his burger and takes another drink.

  “Thing is Ruby, we are too different to make this, us,” he waves a hand between the two of us, “work. I like you, and I like the idea of you, but I don’t like the same things you do.”

  All I can manage is a nod.

  “Honestly, I can’t even pretend to like the things you do. I know that you feel the same way about sports. You hate them. I know it.” He shrugs a shoulder. “And sports are my life. I have to be with a woman who loves sports and what I do, just as much as I do. And that’s just not you.”

  Wow. How did this pompous asshole turn this around on me? He sounds like he’s breaking up with me. Good thing I broke up with him five minutes ago.

  “Oh, okay, Mason. At least I tried like hell to get into sports. I tried to be supportive and even learn things,” I counter.

  “Ruby, you can’t even remember the names of the Bears’ starting line.” He says this like it’s the worst thing in the world to not know the names of all the players on your hometown’s football team.

  “I bought a freaking White Sox jersey for you,” I stammer.

  “Meh, you didn’t buy an official one, so you wasted your money anyway.”

  I gasp.

  “Yeah, I’m done here.” I push out of my chair, grab my purse and walk out of the sports bar.

  I open the door to the outside world and I’m nearly blinded by the brightness of the sun.

  I take a few steps away from the door and lean against the building. After a few deep breaths, I realize that I feel no more anger. Despite the insults he flung my way, I’m not angry. I’m relieved; relieved that I don’t have to deal with hi
m anymore. That I don’t have to worry he’s going to say something rude to my friends.

  I can relax and move on now. Because something tells me I’m going to move on to bigger and better things. I don't at all feel sad that my first attempt at a relationship failed. Maybe I will tomorrow, but not today.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Link

  “Hey guys! I’m coming to you live from O’Hare here in Chicago. I’m on my way out to Cali for San Diego Comic-Con. As you know, SDCC is one of my favorite conventions to attend every year. I go to the Con each year as more of a personal trip. Less work, more play. While I won’t be adding any live game-play onto the channel, I do have a great lineup of videos this week. Not to mention, I’ve got not one, but two Classic Showdown bouts with the amazing Miss Ruby for you guys. Oh, and speak of the devil herself, check it out.”

  I flip my screen out of selfie mode and focus in on the seat across from me in the Southwest terminal lobby. Ruby is sitting there with her eyes pinned to her phone, right between Bernie and Gia.

  “Hey! Rubes! Check it out, you’re LIVE on Facebook right now.” She casually lifts her face up toward me, wearing the biggest smile. Damn, if she isn’t the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen. She’s wearing light blue denim shorts and a deep purple V-neck shirt that has a picture of Chewbacca on it. She has her red slip-on Chuck Taylor’s on her feet, and her soft hair is piled on top of her head in a messy but sexy way.

  “Hey!” She waves to the phone.

  “I was just telling them how I’ve got two Classic Showdown videos for them this week.”

  “Oh, yeah. Those were fun. I kicked your ass on both of them.” Her smile is sweet as sin. My fans eat it up.

  “Yeah, yeah, it’s all part of the schtick,” I mutter back. At that moment Bernie leans in, her head nearly touching Ruby’s, and gives the biggest lopsided grin, sticking her tongue out of her mouth and crossing her eyes. I start to laugh and so does Ruby when she looks over at Bernie’s face. She grabs Bernie's head and places a big smooch on her cheek.