I legit had to glance over my shoulder to make sure Alden wasn’t about to walk up. “He’s not that bad when you get to know him. You’ve said before he’s good with the newbies at the store.”
“Good at explaining endless rules doesn’t equal fun to hang out with.” Payton rolled their eyes. “I’ve known him for years. He’s not like wine or something—he doesn’t improve with age—but I’ll take your word for it.”
“He’s a good guy. Helped Jasper get home when there was an emergency.”
Why I wasn’t telling Payton the whole story, I wasn’t quite sure. I’d told Alden we were a couple, and we’d wandered all over the Strip last night holding hands. It wasn’t like I was looking to keep him a secret, but it also felt…private. Like more than the sort of gossip Payton was looking for. They’ll have to find out eventually, my conscience reminded me, calling up that vision I’d had of us walking into Arthur’s store together. It was silly and probably never happening, but that didn’t stop a huge part of me from wanting it, wanting some sort of future together beyond this weekend, improbable as that was.
But right then, I felt more protective than triumphant, wanting to keep the special parts of Alden safe and all to myself. Something must have been evident on my face because Payton’s lips pursed and their eyes narrowed. “Tell me you didn’t—”
Chirp. Chirp. Right then my alarm went off, reminding me to head over to the tournament space. “Sorry. Gotta jet. First match.”
“Oh, I see how it is.” Payton laughed before clapping me on the shoulder again. “Go get the win. I heard last night that it’s probably going to take going undefeated or close to it to advance. But no pressure.”
No pressure. Ha. I was nothing other than a ball of pressure at that point. But no time to dwell on that. I hurried toward the tournament check-in station, taking my phone out to make sure it was off for the match. To my surprise, I had a series of texts wishing me good luck—Professor Tuttle, Jasper, even Professor Jackson and Professor Herrera. And my sister. My heart leaped at the unfamiliar number, familiar emoji-laden message stream.
The professor said on his channel that you guys are at some big convention out west. Tell me you didn’t come through Kansas and not even *try* to stop. I get it, but I miss you, Con. So much. And as pissed as I am if I missed the chance to see you, I want you to win. You’re the best player on the show. Go make some noise and WIN!!!!
Heart in my throat, I dashed off a quick response. You know I can’t come back to town. Not while Dad is still… My fingers paused, trying to word things best. Cassie didn’t know the whole story, and no way was I going to go there with her. Unreasonable, I settled on before continuing. I don’t want to risk him mad at YOU. None of this is your fault, Cass. Thanks for the good luck. I’m going to try to win for you.
My reasons for winning had become murkier over the course of the week, but the message from Cassie was a swift kick to my lust-addled head. I needed to win. Needed a future her and my other sisters could be proud of. Needed money so that once they were older and not under Dad’s thumb, I could see them, show them that I made it, even without his help. I needed the validation, the money, the recognition—all of it. All the stuff with Alden, all the complications, none of that changed my reality.
And knowing that, knowing how much each match was worth and what was riding on me advancing, I played tight in my first match. I was playing one of the “Ready to Lose?” pink-shirted women, a redhead with distractingly glittery nails, and she was a damn good player with an expensive dragon deck. It didn’t take long before she had me on my heels, watching my life total tick away.
Despite having scored the kick-ass card earlier that morning, it wasn’t simply a matter of waiting to draw it. I needed to set up for the win, regardless of what I drew, and needed to stop playing so defensively. But it was hard when her dragons kept coming at me, the way they kept crashing through whatever paltry barrier I had. It was like trying to drive a car race with only three tires.
Wait.
Three tires. I’d been there. And I knew better than to drive on a bent rim. That wouldn’t win me the game. But a diversion—like oh, say, an arcade with a cute guy in the middle of nowhere—that might buy me enough time to find that metaphorical fourth tire. Rather than keep playing defense, I started throwing out things as distractions, trying to get her attention on those while I slowly built back up enough force to attack with. And when I had enough to win, I floored it. Top speed, so the dragons never saw me coming as I went in for the kill.