Lag (The boys of RDA #2)(56)
Two controllers lay outstretched on the floor and he reaches down to pick both up handing one to me. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you to pick up your toys when you were done playing with them?” I joke and take the controller from him.
“Nah, it’s easier to find everything this way.” He uses his controls to highlight and click on the play game screen and we wait for the screen to load.
“What are we playing?” For some reason sitting on a couch with my maybe boyfriend to play a video game feels like the perfect thing to do to forget my earlier freak out. It’s almost normal and normal is comforting right now.
“Dragons Reborn,” he answers with ease but doesn’t add the “what else?” comment I hear in his words.
The screen finishes loading and he grabs my controller from me punching a series of buttons I’ll never remember until a female character blinks on the screen. She lands on her feet with the cobblestone street beneath her. Wearing a pair of brown pants and a light green shirt, her long blonde hair is the only indication my character’s a girl. The graphics aren’t as sophisticated as some of the games I’ve seen my cousin play, the scenery and characters a little pixelated and blocky. People fill in the space around us and after we walk a few feet, buildings come into focus until we're standing in a small town center.
“Be careful what you do on the street. All of these are actual people playing on this server all around the world.”
“What can I do besides walk?” I ask.
“Well if you had a sword, you’d want to make sure you have it sheathed or people could see it as a threat.”
I put his warning somewhere in the recess of my mind to use for later should I ever have a sword. It’s a scary to think someone would trust me with a sharp object even in a video game. I follow behind Trey as he walks into a small wooden home. The game loads and the room fills with wooden tables in almost every available space. Each table top holds stacks of different colored cloth. Trey opens a dialog box and enters some numbers before a few pieces of cloth float through the space and magically enter his character before disappearing.
“What just happened?” I ask as we head back out to the road.
Trey walks his character through the winding street and I push random buttons until mine catches up. “I bought some fabric. We’ll find a tailor to turn it into clothing.”
We walk past a shop with an anvil hanging over the door — the universal sign for a blacksmith in this online realm and our real one. I went through a castle phase in middle school, okay? I was on the lookout for my white knight so I could be a princess. The door is closed and the building has a roof rather than being open to the contents inside. We walk by without stopping.
“A real person’s character makes clothes?” The possibilities in this game are a little overwhelming as we pass various buildings some with doors open and some closed.
“Yeah, they increase their skills as they play and make clothes to barter with other characters. There are blacksmiths and tavern owners. A little of everything and more than one shop for each since people aren’t always online."
“So I could design my own clothes in this game?” Did Trey just tell me I could be a Dragons Reborn fashion designer?
He grins in my direction at the question. “Well the options are predetermined, but sure.”
I use the back of my palm to hit his shoulder in excitement. “I want to be a tailor,” I demand like a small child who decides they want to be an astronaut one day over lunch.
His smile grows. “It takes a while to build up the skills. Some of these players are online most of the day.”
Nothing is going to take away from my excitement of being a fashion designer — neither predetermined outfits or lack of skill set. “It’s okay. I can play during the day. I heard my bosses won’t mind.” I quickly wink at him and then return my focus to the game.
At that he outright laughs but doesn’t object. His character turns down a path to our left and I scramble to follow again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
I jerk awake. The rattle of Aspen’s wooden door jarred against the frame so loud I almost fall off the couch in panic. Please, dear God, not another earthquake. Sunlight streams into the room and pools on the floor from a split where two curtain panels come together. The door rattles again and I sit up on the pull-out couch and bring the covers up to my chest.
“Aspen! Simone!” The noise carries through to the apartment and I breathe a sigh of relief. I’m pretty sure a robber wouldn't call out for us first.
Aspen’s bedroom door opens as she fixes her askew ponytail and walks to the kitchen. “I’m coming!” she yells toward the door. “Don’t worry. Only Finn, Mar, and my sister-in-law have the code, and only Jake has the meaty fists required to make the door shake with such passion.”
Her long fleece pajama pants are white with big orange SF logos all over them. They match the logo on her short sleeve shirt. She’s seems nonchalant rather than worried why Finn would try to break down her door at this hour of the day. Aspen makes it to the opposite side of the room and pulls open the door.
“Surprise.” I don’t recognize the voice right away, but I’m also still half asleep. Since Aspen doesn’t scream and run for cover, I assume we’re safe.