Page 15 of Guarded Love

I settle into my desk chair as my gaming PC hums to life with a press of a button. My fingers hover over the keyboard for amoment before I pull my glasses from their case and slide them onto my nose. I tell myself I’m only going to play for a couple of hours before working on a term paper that’s due in a couple of weeks, but knowing me, I’ll probably end up playing for at least three.

I queue up Realm of the Unknown, a game I've been playing since high school. I slide my headphones on and the menu music feels like a warm hug. My shoulders drop an inch. Tonight isn't about competition or achievements. It's about familiar patterns and predictable outcomes. I know every quest, every hidden chest, every dialogue option, and that brings a sense of comfort. I don’t have to think too hard or worry if I'm doing things right.

While there can be pressure when I’m gaming, it’s not nearly the same as what I feel when I’m trying to keep up with school and hockey. Each practice is like a test of my limits, pushing me, challenging me, and making sure I’m clocked in constantly. Then there’s the tightrope of keeping my 4.0 GPA. Paper after paper, reading after reading. Some days, it’s as if the work just keeps piling up faster than I can check things off my list. It feels like I’m living assignment to assignment with deadlines closing in faster than I can blink. But here, in my games, the stakes are lower. I can fail a quest or miss a target, and nobody cares. There’s a freedom in not having to be perfect, in not having to prove my worth constantly.

I shift my gaze to my second monitor and throw up a couple of streams that I’ve been meaning to catch up on. One stream’s a guy trying to shave seconds off a dungeon boss run. The other’sCozyCraft4Eva, a girl quietly building a cottage garden in some blocky survival game while talking about what kind of soup she made for dinner. I mute them both. I don’t need the noise. Just something in the background while I’m gaming.

And with that, my mind begins to quiet.

I've been managing pretty well lately. No skipped meals this week. All assignments submitted on time. Coach even nodded approvingly during yesterday's drill. Small victories, but they count.

I run through my mental checklist: Practice: done. Readings for Political Theory: done. Social media: limited to fifteen minutes this morning. Now playing something calming. Start my paper: TBD. Bed by midnight.

Time slips by without me noticing. The room stays dim except for the glow of my monitor and the soft flicker of muted streams on my second screen. I should probably turn on the ceiling light, but that would require me stopping what I’m doing and moving from my desk. Instead, I let out a long, slow breath.

I lean back in my chair and let my hands rest on the keyboard as I think about my next move. My eyelids are starting to droop a little, but I still have the energy to continue on.

Out of the corner of my eye, a notification lights up my phone. I reach for it and find a text from Knox.

Knox: Made extra nachos. In the kitchen if you want some.

Me: Thanks. Maybe in a bit.

My stomach growls at the thought of nachos. I should go grab those nachos before they disappear. In our house, leftovers don’t stay left for long and I’m not in the mood to cook dinner, so this is the best option outside of ordering delivery.

I save my game and stretch as my stomach makes a rumbling noise again. The nachos are calling my name and I would be silly not to answer. Plus, if Selene is here, there’s an excellent chance the food will be edible. I pause the streams on my second monitor but leave my game running. One more quest and I'll be done for the night. Maybe.

The floorboards creak under my feet as I leave my room and head downstairs. The house is old but is one of the few homes near campus that hasn’t been bought by the school and converted into student housing. It shows its age, but the rent is reasonable, and it's close enough to campus that we can walk to class when the weather's decent.

"Look who emerged from his cave," Knox says as I enter the kitchen. He's leaning against the counter, one arm draped around Selene's shoulders. She gives me a small wave before tucking a piece of her red hair behind her ear.

"The nachos summoned me," I reply, making a beeline for the plate piled high with chips, melted cheese, jalapeños, and what looks like actual homemade guacamole. "This looks suspiciously edible."

Selene laughs. "I supervised."

"Thank goodness," I say, grabbing a plate from the cabinet.

"I'd say I'm offended, but we all know my culinary skills are limited to protein shakes and cereal," Knox says, watching as I load my plate with a generous portion of nachos.

"And yet you keep trying," Selene teases, poking him in the side. "And that’s one of the things I love about you. Remember the pasta incident?"

I snort. "You mean when he set off every smoke detector in the house and Wilder thought we were being attacked?"

"It wasn't that bad," Knox protests.

"The noodles were black," I remind him, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. "Actually black. Like charcoal."

Selene covers her mouth to hide her laughter. "He was so proud he'd made dinner."

"Until he tasted it," I add. “Which I’m not even sure why he did given how it looked.”

Knox rolls his eyes. "At least I'm trying. When's the last time either of you cooked?"

It’s silly of him to ask that given how often Selene does cook and how often she is over here trying new recipes. Most of which the whole house benefits from.

"Yesterday," Selene says.

"Two days ago," I counter. "Chicken and rice. I even used seasoning."

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