Round 17

A ll I could think about was being on the balcony with William. We spent weeks fixing my game, talking about it, and playing it before crashing together with our lips meeting and our hands exploring each other a little more.

And now Overpower was ready, but our game wasn’t done.

Although I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about surrendering. I could grab a chair, throw myself over his shoulder, and direct him to his own bedroom. But I wasn’t ready for that.

Instead, I went home and called my mom.

“Hey, Rosie. How’s my baby girl?” she said, a bustling airport behind her.

“Mom! Are you coming home?”

“Not yet. We’re off to London to surprise Aunt Neha for her sixtieth birthday, but we’ll be there before Neema’s wedding.”

“You kinda have to be. I believe you’re in charge of the candles.”

Her eyes widened. “Ah, yes.”

She ordered a coffee from a barista off-camera and then turned her phone and showed him my face, told him I’m recently single, that I love board games, and that I’m her favorite child. She didn’t bother telling him I am her only child.

I gave the barista a polite wave, embarrassed this stranger was seeing me in my Hello Kitty pajamas. I hoped she would tip him well.

“How’s your game coming along?” she asked.

“I’m submitting it tonight.” I blew out a nervous breath. “I’m terrified. William and I have worked so hard on it.”

“Oh, yes. Mean William with the beautiful dark eyes.” She smirked. “Is there something I should know?”

I knew that would be her next question, so I hoped my tone sounded casual when I responded.

“Nope, nope. What’s going on on your side? Dad up to anything interesting?”

“Dad’s made a new friend. He’s from New Zealand. Look. There they are chatting about rugby.” She turned her camera toward my dad.

Dad waved at us, and I waved back.

“If you go to New Zealand, I’d come and visit,” I said. “I still haven’t seen Hobbiton, feels almost sinful.”

“Oh, my little hobbit in Hobbiton. Let’s make a plan to do it. You should dress up again. You looked adorable.”

“Remember Gandalf?” I asked.

“He is very memorable, Rosie, reminds me of your father.”

“Gandalf from that time at Comic-Con, Mom.”

“Oh, yes. Well, I remember helping you search the parking lot after you lost his phone number.”

“I searched everywhere,” I said, thinking back to the heartache that had followed. Gandalf had written his number on a scrap of paper since my phone’s battery had run out. “Sometimes it feels like I imagined him.”

“You still haven’t found him?”

“No,” I replied. “How would I?”

“You kids are innovative. Remember how social media connected those two girls who were best friends as kids?”

“I’m not going to do that, Mom. Don’t be weird.” A laugh escaped me.

“Weird? You’re the one thinking about him all these years later.” She threw up her hands and grinned.

I shrugged. “Been thinking about him a lot recently, working on Overpower and all.”

“You spoke about him nonstop for at least two or three months after that. I worried you might never stop.”

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever, Mom.”

She paused and then narrowed her eyes, studying me. “So, has Patrick contacted you yet?”

My chest tightened at the mere idea of it. “No, why are you asking?”

“He’s going to contact you. That’s all I can say, baby.”

“Mom, why is he going to contact me? Why do you know this?” Panic raced through my veins.

“Oh, don’t worry, but I have been sworn to secrecy.” Her eyebrows bounced, nearly touching her hairline before she glanced sideways. “Anyway, gotta run. It’s boarding time, and I’d like to use the loo before the flight. I have a runny tummy. Dad told me not to eat the leftovers, but you know I don’t like wasting. Anyhoo, love you forever and wherever.”

“There are no secrets between us!” I yelled.

I was too late—the call ended.

Frantically, I checked all my social media accounts and emails, but there was nothing from Patrick. Could she be mistaken?

I considered texting him, but the idea of doing that filled me with so much dread I had to take one of my mother’s emergency Calm Down pills.

This was an emergency. I couldn’t think about Patrick. I had too much going on. Patrick and all my work drama would have to go into a little box to be dealt with later.

Or never.

Never was fine too.

The submission process for the game was simple. Enter your personal details and give them two or three sentences about yourself. Upload the game rules, game overview, approximate game length, and photos of the game.

But simple did not equal quick or easy. At least not for me. Not with how much this meant to me. Plus, my mind was hung up on my mother’s comment about Patrick, and the rest of me was hung up on William.

After spending forever typing and retyping three sentences about myself, I texted William.

Rose: Describe me in three sentences.

William: Short. Dorky. Sexy.

Rose: Not three words, you menace. It’s for the game submission.

I chewed on my lip to stop myself from smiling at my phone like an idiot.

It took him all of five seconds before he responded.

William: Tell them the truth, Rose. You’re the best person to have created this game.

Well, now I was smiling at my phone. It was impossible not to. I was back to my teen years, secretly texting the boyfriend I wasn’t supposed to have and ready to hide my phone the instant anyone walked in.

Keeping his message in mind, I typed up a new bio.

All that was left to do was to hit the big blue submit button, but my hands were shaking. I’d been on edge for the last few hours leading up to this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

I read and reread the instructions. I’d followed the rules. All of them. I had thirty minutes left to submit. Pushing myself away from my desk, I walked through the living area and to Neema’s bedroom.

The door flung open, and Neema stood before me in her silk nightie. “I was on my way to you.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to make sure you submitted your game.” She offered me a loving smile before her hands landed on my shoulders and she spun me around toward my room. “You haven’t done it yet, have you?”

“I was about to.”

“Let’s get it over with so we can go to bed. We need to be up early tomorrow morning.”

I groaned as I plopped down onto my chair and stared at my screen. My mouse hovered over the button.

Neema kissed the crown of my head, and I clicked submit.

“You’ve got this,” she said. “Now, go to bed. I’ll see you at six.”

Groaning again, I laid my head on my desk. “I have a few more things to finish before bed, but good night. See you in about six and a half hours.”