“I don’t know, Mike,” I confess. “I’m the last person in the world who should be giving out relationship advice.”
“Why?” he asks, and I can think of, oh, a thousand different reasons. “You’ve been in relationships, right?”
“Yeah, I’ve had boyfriends . . .” I say, and Mike picks up on the things I’m leaving unsaid.
“But?”
“But . . . I don’t spark.”
“You don’t what?”
“Spark,” I say as I think about banging my head against the desk. I stare at it and scratch my fingers through my bed-tangled curls. “I don’t spark.”
“What does that mean?”
This time, I actually do scoot my chair back to let my forehead thump against the desk. I squeeze my eyes shut against the dark as I reluctantly answer Mike. “You know, like the sparks you’re supposed to feel when you kiss someone.” I groan internally. I could drop dead right now and it would be better than continuing this conversation.
“Maybe you’ve just never been with a good kisser,” Mike says, and I’m surprised my burning face doesn’t light the damn desk on fire.
“I’m pretty sure they’ve been good.”
“You just haven’t met the right guy yet.”
“Can we go back to talking about your messed-up love life instead of mine?”
Mike chuckles, and I unglue my forehead from the desk. “You never answered my question,” he says, and I finally try to tell him why Danica would be with him.
“Probably because you’re smart and funny and sweet and talented and—I don’t know, Mike. Why wouldn’t she be with you?”
A long beat passes before a soft chuckle drifts through the phone.
“What?” I ask.
“I was just thinking.”
“Thinking what?”
“I should call you more often.”
Rolling my eyes at his reaction to the ego boost I just gave him, I pad toward my bed and crawl under the covers. “I’m going to bed now.”
“But I want to hear more about how awesome I am.”
“Goodnight, Mike.”
“Don’t you want to play Deadzone?”
“I’m already back in bed.”
“Play with me tomorrow then?” he asks, and I snuggle the covers up to my neck.
“Okay.”
“Okay.” I close my eyes at the smile in his voice. “Sweet dreams, Hailey.”
“Sweet dreams, Mike.”
That night, I dream the sweet dreams Mike wished me. I dream them in spite of broken three-hundred-dollar lamps and in spite of angry cousins sleeping down the hall. I dream them because Mike told me to, and because the last thing I think about before I fall asleep is the way he looks when he smiles.
Chapter 9
“It’s too risky,” I caution, my brows knit with concern.
Mike’s voice stays calm, collected. “We knew that going into this.”
“We’ll get caught.”
“Maybe.”
“What if they see us?”
“What if they don’t?”
My fingers fidget with nervous anticipation. “This is dangerous . . .”
“It could be worth it, Hailey.”
“Oh my God,” Luke groans through my headset. “Will you two stop being so dramatic? Are we raiding this place or not?”
Mike and I both laugh, and I switch out my Deadzone player’s weapon, opting for an M1014 semiautomatic shotgun instead of my trusty M16 assault rifle. My fingers flex before settling back against my keyboard. Alone in my room, I say, “Okay, but I’m pretty sure we’re all going to die.”
“I’ll protect you,” Mike offers, and I roll my eyes at my screen with a grin on my face.
“I’m a better shot than you.”
“Are not,” he argues, and I start to object, but my little brother beats me to it.
“Yeah, she is, dude.”
“Traitor,” Mike accuses, and at the sound of my brother’s laugh, I smile.
“Okay, are we really doing this?” I ask, and Luke starts the countdown.
“One . . . Two . . .”
“Shit!” Mike barks as a torrent of shots are fired. All hell breaks loose, and the three of us scramble in different directions, firing on the enemy team as we run for our lives. I race away from their hideout, through the streets of the post-apocalyptic city, and duck inside a decrepit building. Rats squeak through my surround-sound headphones.
“Where is everyone?” I ask into my mic as I find a good stakeout position and switch the gun in my hands to a Remington 870. Luke, Mike, and I are in team mode, so I know our enemies can’t hear me as I try to figure out our next plan.
“I’m with Luke,” Mike says, and my brother’s voice is in serious gamer mode when it sounds over the chat.
“Do you think we lost them?”
“You definitely lost them,” I answer, my finger hovering over the trigger key.
“How do you know?”
I shoot the idiot who runs in blind through the doorway of my building, and then I toss a grenade outside and race up the broken stairs as gunfire begins splintering the rotted wood exterior. “Because their whole team is outside my building. I’m surrounded.”
“Where are you?” Mike asks, and after I describe my location, he asks Luke, “Should we try to save her?”
“What do you think?” my brother replies, his tone grave.
“I don’t know, man,” Mike says. “She makes fun of me a lot.”
I chuckle as I crouch down and shoulder my grenade launcher. It’s my last grenade, but the enemy team doesn’t need to know that.
“Yeah,” Luke agrees. “And she told me she was going to give me a noogie next time she sees me.”
“I’m your sister!” I argue as I continue watching the bottom of the stairs. “What about all those weekends I took you to the movies?”
“You made me watch a musical,” Luke complains, and I launch my grenade when the enemy team sends one of their men on a suicide mission up the stairs.
“That was one time!” I argue over the sound of the explosion blasting in my headphones. “And it was an accident! How was I supposed to know that Crocosaur vs. Sharkopus was a musical?”
“Uh, a little something called the Internet?”
“Dude,” Mike interrupts. “Crocosaur vs. Sharkopus was awesome.”
“See!” I bark as I sneak down the dark hallway stretching away from the top of the stairwell. My fatigues-wearing player holds my final big-bang shotgun at the ready.
“What about that scene where the crocosaur launches off the cliff and the sharkopus impales it on a tentacle?” Mike challenges. “That scene was the sickest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“It was pretty cool . . .” Luke reluctantly admits as an enemy player bends down to pick up the rare knife I intentionally discarded. I shoot him in the head, race over to collect his weapons and my knife, and slip back into my stakeout position—a hole in the rotted wall.
“I wish I had a sister cool enough to take me to movies like that,” Mike says, and I smile at my computer screen.
“Okay,” Luke finally agrees. “I guess we’ll save her.”
“Hailey,” Mike says, the smooth tone of his voice doing weird things to my stomach. “Remember when I said I’d protect you?”
“Yeah?”