Page 25 of Mr. North
Raph. It suits him. It’s a beautiful, savage name, just like him. We eat. We drink. We continue our game of chess, and I proceed to attack Raph across the board, showing him no mercy, knowing that Thalia is going to lose her mind. I’ve made an awkward kind of peace with the ridiculously attractive man sitting on the other side of the table, but I can’t shake my need to show him I am not weak. I am not as defenseless as he thinks. At the end of the meal, Raph moves my plate out of the way and leans toward me across the table.
“Where would you most like to travel in the world?” he asks.
“I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it in a long time.”
“Why not?”
“Because. When I began studying to become a lawyer, I knew I wasn’t going to be traveling anywhere any time soon. I put it out of my mind.”
Raph shrugs—that makes sense. “If you had to make a decision right now, though, on the spot…if you could go anywhere in the world right now, where would it be?”
“Well, I’ve always had a thing for the Brits. I think London would be pretty amazing.”
Slowly, Raphael gets to his feet. He holds out his hand. “Let me take you there.”
“I’m sorry?”
“To London.”
“What?”
“Right now.”
A flash of heat slams into me. “I can’t just up sticks at nine p.m. and get on a plane to another country. I have classes I have to get to. I have a million assignments due.”
Raphael doesn’t react to my stressed tone. He simply extends his hand further. “Don’t worry so much,” he says softly. “How about you just trust me instead?”
“What about our game?”
Raphael glances down at the tablet still sitting on the table between us. “You’ll have me in three moves," he says. “Take a look. You’ve already won.”
I glance down at the tablet, and I already know he’s telling the truth. I allow a small, smug smile to form on my face. Damn right I’ve won. And this time I intended it.
* * *
T he room Raphaelleads me to is much larger than the first VR studio he took me to the other day. In fact, this room, up a flight of stairs, must be at least two thousand square feet. A thick yellow band is painted on the floor around the perimeter of the room, maybe about two feet from the walls. The walls are painted a light, industrial grey, the floor, other than the yellow bands, painted black. There are no cables hanging down from the ceiling this time. Raphael fits me with another set of VR glasses, also entirely different to the one I wore last time. The lenses on these glasses are clear, and a series of thin wires loop around the back of my head, trailing down my back. They remain unconnected to anything, though, simply hanging there.
Raphael’s face is expressionless as he organizes the VR glasses, fiddling with them, pressing a series of buttons down the right hand arm of the set. The lenses remain clear, but words flash up on them in front of me, bold and in white:
Headset Paired
“It’s okay,” Raph says. “You might see a few notifications. They’re nothing to worry about. I should have warned you, though. I’m sorry.”
I adjust the glasses on my face, taking a deep breath in through my nose. “That’s okay.”
“You’re nervous. You don’t need to be.”
“Sorry. It’s just the last time I did this…”
“I know. You thought you went blind. I promise that’s not going to happen this time.”
“You’ll forgive me if I’m not brimming over with confidence,” I fire back.
Raph stops what he’s doing and turns to face me, tilting his head to one side, biting his bottom lip gently between his teeth. “What’s this? Attitude? How refreshing.”
I’ll give him refreshing. He won’t find it refreshing when I snap my VR glasses in two and storm out of here. “Just don’t screw with me this time, North. I don’t think I can take it.”
He holds his hands up, a soft huff of laughter escaping between his lips. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Dreymon . Give me a second. The lenses are going to turn black in a second, don’t freak out. It’ll only be for a second.” He stands in front of a computer on the other side of the room, typing quickly into a computer. A number of fans located high on the walls, close to the ceiling, whir into action, blasting cold air into the room. A distinct smell begins to fill the space—something organic, dirty, fresh, with the very slightest hint of food smells mixed in. Something completely unrecognizable and alien to me. Raphael equips himself with glasses of his own, connecting the cables behind his own head, allowing them to trail down his back. Holding some kind of remote in his hand, he hits a key on the computer keyboard, and the lenses of my glasses gradually begin to fade until they’re completely black. Another notification pops up in my vision, again bold and white:
