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I feel a blush creeping onto my cheeks, which ignites into a blazing heat as she continues.
"Just the little things. You know, like how you lost your V-card and joined the mile-high club at the same time—I mean, who does that? With a billionaire's son, no less? Aboard a private plane, after attending a derby as his fake girlfriend..."
Mei's voice fades into the background of my mind. I ensure to nod and hum every now and then, lest I seem too interested—which is her cue to start grilling me with questions. I've gotten pretty good at walking this fine line with her, and can gauge precisely where she is in the story just by reading her facial expressions. Maybe because I've heard it nonstop, incessantly on repeat, since I confessed everything to her earlier this week.
It took me two days before I caved, and when I told her, you'd think I won the Nobel Prize, not lost my virginity. That's how excited she was. From then on, it's been question after question, gushing and gushing, as she offers me bedroom advice while simultaneously asking about mine.
I nod some more, her enthusiasm temporarily pulling me from focus.
"...and the way he looked at you during his party." She sighs, all dramatic and dreamy, resting her chin on a fist. "I just knew right away how he felt about y—"
A sound of disgust emanates from behind me, one that's instantly recognizable before she even rounds my chair. Meghan swings into view, arms crossed, as always. "And here I was, thinking you finally gave up on that useless game."
Annoyance rakes up my back. "Sorry to disappoint," I mumble, avoiding her intense gaze.
"What was that?"
"Nothing." Bitch.
From the corner of my eye, I catch Mei's hand motions behind Meghan, and I just know she's flipping her the bird, even in the midst of customers. I clamp down on a laugh, only for all that humor to dry up with Meghan's next words.
"That's what I thought." Seriously, what a grade-A bitch. "I'm gonna need you to work an extra shift next week."
I hesitate, fingers stalling on my keyboard. "What day?"
"Friday."
Dammit. "Ohh, uhh, sorry, I can't do that day."
"I wasn't asking." More hand gestures from Mei.
I squirm in my chair, trying to ignore the uncomfortable sensation worming its way through my insides. I'd rather stab my own toe than argue with my boss, but here I am. "Uhmmm, I seriously can't. I have plans."
"Do you now? And what is it that's so important?"
"I'm going to a gaming convention."
Her face falls, before her lips curl in revulsion. "What?"
"You know, where you can play games still in beta, meet developers and cosplayers, enter tournaments, watch new trailers. This convention is the big one—as many enthusiasts know it as—called DreamScape. It's actually held in west Manhattan and is put on every year by—"
"Oh, no." She holds up a hand, her mouth pressing into a tight line. "Please, don't explain." A laugh spews from her lips, but she quickly stifles it, only for another to sneak through, then another, until the whole dam breaks loose.
As always, I keep my eyes downcast to my laptop, waiting for the storm to pass. Usually, I'm quite numb to Meghan's taunts, which are a bi-weekly occurrence and almost like some managerial ritual for her at this point, but today... Today, there's an unmistakable sting.
It's obvious why. Even though I've attended DreamScape for the past six years, this is the closest I've come to tasting victory. No matter, I'll still watch the Indie Creator Showcase with genuine excitement, like always, but this year will be a little more sour.
Meghan composes herself, though a few giggles linger. "So, you'll work next Friday, then?"
Sadness trickles inside me as I avoid Mei's pitiful stare. Who am I kidding? I'll save myself some pain by not attending. "Yeah, I'll be here."
"Good, good." Meghan turns to leave, but pivots one more time, unable to help herself. She encroaches on my space, lowering her voice to just above a whisper. "I'm only trying to help you, Juliana. You know that, right? With all that work ethic, you could do something worthwhile, instead of wasting time on something so juvenile, a game clearly no one's interested in..."
I push her out of my mind, observing her lips chatter away as she savors every word. Except, the longer she rambles, the more someone else's words snake into my heart. Elias's. His doubts, weaved with my obvious feature rejection, year after year, replay in my head. Over... and over... and over again, until I'm sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, clamping down on my wobbly chin.
Ching... Ching... Ching...
Maybe I should just quit, close my laptop while I still have a shred of dignity left.
