Page 5 of Played By Design

“Shooter, boxing, or shower?” Kain asks as he stops the belt. “Blue Note’s in two hours.”

I slow my walk to a stop.

Kain’s band plays at the Blue Note every Thursday.

“Shower,” I say. “Then we can go.”

Kain’s hands move to his hips. “Dinner first. Then we can go.”

My shoulders pull up, and a short huff escapes, the sound of a man who knows he’s outmatched. “I’m not hungry.”

“You’re always hungry after cardio. You just haven’t noticed yet.”

“I want to shower.”

“You can shower while I cook dinner.”

I clutch the farming sim tablet, pixelated chickens wandering across my cleared land. Kain waits with the patience of someone who has had this exact argument seven hundred times and won every single one.

After a moment, he changes tactics. “If you shower and dress before my timer goes off, we can go to Stackers after dinner.”

I bolt off the treadmill, tablet still in hand as I race for the stairs, bare feet slapping.

“I said after dinner,” Kain calls after me.

“I heard you!”

Kain follows at a more reasonable pace, his footsteps heavy behind me, and the soft beep of him setting the timer fills the stairwell.

I’m halfway into the bathroom when Kain catches up. “Tablet stays.”

“I haven’t finished planting my new garden.”

“It’ll be there when you finish.”

“I want to finish now.”

“Bunny.” He holds his phone up to show a timer ticking down. “Sweet Stack or gardening.”

I huff, a sound of put-upon exasperation, and thrust the tablet at him.

He takes it and jerks his chin toward the bathroom.

Save Point is still playing through the house speakers on repeat, and Kain taps his phone. The music shifts to the bathroom’s ceiling-mounted Bluetooth speaker. The sound envelops me as I step onto heated tile and close the solid-core door behind me.

“Out before the song ends,” Kain says through the door.

I turn the shower on, full heat and full pressure, just the way I like it. Water pours from the ceiling-set rainfall showerhead, and massage jets pulse from the walls.

The heated tiles warm my feet. Steam fogs the glass enclosure, worlds away from Kain’s tiny, thin-walled apartment that eventually became ours.

We stayed there through him finishing his degree and my streaming career turning into tournaments, sponsors, and actual money. Long enough for his guitars and my gaming equipment to swallow most of the available space, and for the neighbors to get really fucking tired of hearing him practice.

No neighbors here to complain about Kain’s music.

I made the right call buying this house with double vanities and silent, solid-core doors. Competition winnings well spent.

Tossing my glasses toward the sink, I strip, leave my sweaty clothes on the floor, and step into the shower. Water drums on my shoulders. Save Point clocks in at eight minutes twelve seconds, and I wasted precious time on the tablet debate.