“You’re going down, asshole.”
“Kill him. Kill him.”
“Shut up, I’m doing my part. You take care of that zombie over there.”
George steps into the room.
“Charles, you’ve got a visitor.”
“Not now, George. I’m busy.”
“I think you need to take a break.”
“You’re fucking with me, right? You know I get an hour of uninterrupted game time every morning.”
George’s eyes dart my way and I want to sink into the floor.
“I can come back later,” I say.
I hear the clatter of a controller as one of the figures stands. Jake’s full frame rises from the chair and he pushes his hands through his hair. “Starlee.”
“Hi, Jake.”
Neither of us have discussed if the others know about our morning routine. I have the distinct feeling it’s something he does on his own—a private time. Just like mine. I’m not going to mention it if he doesn’t.
Charlie’s a bit slower to react but like George said, me being here gets him to sigh heavily and then pause the game. I smile and say, “I’m so sorry for interrupting you, but I’m in a bit of a crisis.” I hold up the laptop. “I’d come back later but I’ve got a deadline.”
I feel like we have an audience with Jake and George watching the exchange, but Charlie ignores them and takes the laptop from me. “What’s the problem?”
“I’m trying to submit my assignment for the online school and it’s not going through. I don’t know if it’s the internet service or something I’m doing wrong.”
“Sure, I’ll look at it.”
He glares at Jake, who blinks at him for a moment before realization dawns. “Here, Starlee, take my chair.”
“Thanks.”
He moves out of the way and I sit in the comfy gaming chair. Charlie’s already got the laptop open, fingers moving quickly over the keys. I’ve never really been this close to him to take in how much he looks like his brother, and a flash of George shirtless pops in my mind and I can’t help but wonder if Charlie looks the same.
His voice snaps me out of my daydreaming. “Jake took a class at the online school last year. He had some of the same problems. So, it’s kind of a mixture of the program being a pain and not doing it right.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Is this the assignment?” he asks, the mouse hovering over the essay I’d written.
“Yes.”
“Good, I’ll show you what to do.” He launches into an explanation of the process for submitting homework to me. I see where I made my mistake. Super easy and he’s right; part my fault and part theirs.
“Okay, I get it now,” I say, feeling a sense of relief when I see that both assignments are accepted. “Thank you so much.”
“No problem
.”
“And I’ll tell Sierra to give you an extra fifteen minutes of game time.”
His eyebrows raise. “Oh you don’t have to, it’s fine.”