Page 52 of Played By Design

His hands tighten on the steering wheel, then loosen. He clears his throat.

“So. Are you wanting your new digital frame within view of your desk?” The question lands a little too loudly in the quiet car. “Or are you thinking of it as a background for when you stream?”

I lift one shoulder.

His thumb tap, tap, taps the wheel. “You didn’t take your selfies with the concept art on the way out.”

The streetlight slides across my window. “Nope.”

“Why not? You were all over those displays when we walked in.”

Another lift of my shoulder.

The silence that follows sucks the air out of the car.

He tries again. “Julian’s team was excited to meet you.”

“It was fun.” The words come out flat.

The car stops at a red light, and Kain turns in his seat, his full attention landing on me now. “How about we stop at Stackers for a Sweet Stack?”

The offer settles between us, warm and familiar.

I shake my head.

Kain’s jaw tightens.

The light turns green, and he faces forward, accelerating through the intersection.

His knuckles bleed white on the steering wheel, where he grips it at ten and two. “Is something wrong, Bunny?”

I shake my head.

“Are you sure?” Kain presses. “Because you’re sitting over there not saying a word, and you just turned down a Sweet Stack, which means either the world is ending, or you’re not okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” He keeps his frustration leashed. “Talk to me.”

Outside the window, an empty bus shelter slides by. A gas station. A dog tied outside a coffee shop.

“I had a power drain,” I say to the glass. “At the studio. Too much input. I’m recharging.”

The lie tastes like flat, old soda.

Kain goes quiet over my answer, years of my habits and tells written into the pause, while the car hums around us, tires eating asphalt, the heater pushing warm air across my ankles.

“Okay,” he says at last. “We’ll be home in twenty.”

He doesn’t push, and I’m grateful for it and hate it at the same time. With no music coming from the speakers, the silence swallows the car, and whatever has been churning in my stomach since Lantern Key worsens.

This should be the best month of my life.

I won the Pulse Riot competition, setting a new record and winning forty-two thousand dollars. Kain got hired by Julian Vey, creator of Dusk Protocol, my OG fave. I visited the studio and geeked out with the development team. And then I had unobstructed access to fifteen years of development archives no player has ever seen.

But instead of being thrilled, I sit in Kain’s car with a stone in my chest.

And I don’t know why.