STEPHANIE
....

I'm starting to think I've made a mistake.

Not the usual oops, I wore white to a pizza place kind of mistake, but a why did I agree to this? mistake.

Melody is on the couch, looking smug as ever, while she tries to recover from the hour-long torture session I just put us through--her exercises, for her leg.

Which, by the way, she barely took seriously, no matter how hard I tried to motivate her.

"Okay, I should go," I mutter, hoping I can escape what comes next.

"Not so fast," she says, wagging a finger at me like she's some kind of evil genius. "You forgot the second part of our deal."

I frown. Pretending. "What second part?"

"You agreed to do something fun with me. And now I've decided what that something is."

My stomach sinks. By the smile on her face, I know it's not good.

"Video games," she says, grinning like she's just pulled off the world's greatest heist. "You're playing with me."

I blink at her, my brain struggling to process the words. "Video games? You're joking right?"

"Nope. Dead serious." She pulls a controller out from behind one of the couch cushions, like she had this whole thing planned from the start. I think she did. "C'mon, Stephanie. A deal's a deal."

"I thought we were talking about, like, board games or something," I protest. "Not... digital warfare."

She snorts. "Digital warfare? Okay, grandma. Just sit down and grab a controller. Don't be scared."

I narrow my eyes at her. "I'm not scared. I just don't think this is a good use of my time."

Melody raises an eyebrow. "What else are you gonna do? Go home and color code your socks?"

"I don't do that," I snap, even though I 100% do.

She smirks, patting the empty spot on the couch beside her. "Sit. Play. Or I'll tell Jeremiah your services are not needed anymore."

"Blackmail now? Really?" I sigh, but my feet are already moving. Stupid deal. Stupid smug grin. Stupid Melody.

I drop onto the couch and grab the other controller, holding it awkwardly. It feels foreign in my hands, like I'm holding a small alien spaceship.

Melody laughs when she sees me fumbling with it.

"You've really never played before, have you?" she asks, her voice dripping with amusement.

I reply flatly, "I was too busy doing things that actually matter."

Growing up, Amber and I never had a luxury of videos games. We grew up in a middle class familiar and my upbringing was mostly gardening on weekends with mom or baking cakes with Dad.

"Like what? Scheduling your bathroom breaks?" she quips, biting back a laugh.

I glare at her. "Can we just start this thing already?"

She shrugs and presses a button, and the screen lights up with some chaotic, brightly colored game that looks like a cross between a cartoon and a fever dream. Characters zoom across the screen, throwing punches and launching what appear to be... bananas? Why are there bananas?

"What is this?" I ask, horrified.

"Battle Brawlers," Melody says proudly. "Best game ever."

"Looks ridiculous," I mutter.

"Ridiculously fun," she corrects, grinning. "You ready to lose?"

I roll my eyes. "Just start the game."

She does, and within seconds, I realize I'm in way over my head. My character--a tiny, angry--looking squirrel in a cape--is spinning in circles while Melody's character, some kind of glowing robot, is absolutely destroying me.

I mash the buttons on my controller, hoping for the best, but it's no use. Melody is relentless, and the screen keeps flashing with phrases like "KO!" and "FLAWLESS VICTORY!"

"Are you even trying?" she asks, laughing as her robot sends my squirrel flying off the screen for the fifth time.

"Yes, I'm trying!" I snap, my frustration mounting. "This game is rigged."

"It's not rigged," she says, still laughing. "You just suck."

"Maybe I wouldn't suck if someone bothered to explain the controls," I shoot back.

"It's literally just buttons. You press them. Things happen."

"That's not helpful!"

"Okay, okay," she says, putting her controller down and scooting closer to me. "Here. Let me show you."

She reaches over and places her hand over mine, guiding my fingers to the buttons.

Her hand is warm, and for a second, I forget how annoyed I am. Why does this feel so good?

But then she starts talking again, and the moment is gone.

"See? This button punches, this one jumps, and if you press them together, you do a special move."

I try to focus on what she's saying, but her proximity is throwing me off. She smells like coffe and sweat, and it's distracting. I pull my hand away and sit up straighter, clearing my throat.

"Got it," I say, trying to sound confident. "Let's go."

We start the next round, and this time, I manage to land a few hits on her robot. Melody cheers sarcastically every time I get a point, which is equal parts motivating and infuriating.

"Look at you, Stephanie!" she says, clapping mockingly. "You're actually improving. I'm so proud."

"Shut up," I mutter, my eyes glued to the screen. "I'm going to beat your loud ass."

"Sure you are," she says, smirking. "Any minute now."

Her robot launches a series of glowing projectiles at my squirrel, and I barely manage to dodge them.

My fingers are flying across the controller, and for a brief, glorious moment, it looks like I might actually win this round. But then Melody pulls some insane combo move, and my squirrel goes flying off the screen again.

"KO!" the game announces.

Melody throws her head back, laughing so hard she nearly drops her controller. "Oh my God, that was pathetic."

I glare at her, my face hot. "You're insufferable."

"And you're terrible at video games," she says, wiping tears from her eyes. "But hey, at least you're consistent."

"Rematch," I demand, gripping my controller like it's a weapon. "I'm not losing to you again."

"You sure about that?" she asks, her grin widening. "Because I could do this all day."

We play three more rounds, and I lose every single one. Melody is relentless, her gloating getting louder and more obnoxious with each victory. By the end of the last round, I'm ready to throw the controller out the window.

"Okay, I'm done," I say, dropping the controller onto the couch. "This is pointless."

"Aww, giving up already?" she teases. "I was just starting to have fun."

"I hate you," I mutter, crossing my arms.

"You know what they say," she smirks. "Don't hate the player, hate the game."

She's not wrong, but I'm not about to admit that. Instead, I grab a pillow and throw it at her. She catches it easily, laughing as she tosses it back at me.

"You know," she says, her tone softer now, "you're not as bad as I thought you'd be."

"At video games?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"No, at... everything," she says, shrugging. "You're kind of fun. When you're not being a total control freak."

I'm not sure how to respond to that, so I just roll my eyes and reach for my water bottle. "Don't get used to it."

"I wouldn't dare," she says, grinning.

For a moment, the room is quiet, except for the faint music still playing from the game. Melody leans back against the couch, looking completely at ease, while I try to figure out why her words are still echoing in my head.