Chapter 137: A Warm Afternoon

Chapter 137: Chapter 137: A Warm Afternoon

Chapter 137: A Warm Afternoon

The living room of Faye Larkin’s townhouse held only three people on the couch, one older teenager wedged between two younger kids.

"Do not go in yet. Wait until I respawn."

"I can handle it myself!"

Miles Larkin made the declaration with complete confidence and immediately sent his character charging forward.

Cyrus Calder watched the screen without trying to stop him.

Miles’s character rushed straight into the enemy team, managed to knock about half the health off their tank, and then disappeared beneath a pile of attacks before he could retreat.

The screen turned gray.

Miles stared at it in disbelief.

"That was so close. I almost had him!"

Cyrus did not point out that being killed while the enemy still had half its health did not normally qualify as almost winning.

At least Miles had wasted enough time for Cyrus’s character to respawn.

Their other three teammates were nowhere near returning. Worse, a surrender vote had already appeared in the corner of the screen, and three votes had been cast almost immediately.

Cyrus did not add the final vote.

He moved his character out from their base instead.

Four enemy players were already pushing forward, apparently expecting the match to end without resistance.

What followed became considerably more complicated than Miles had expected.

Cyrus’s character had done well enough earlier in the match to have a decent equipment advantage. He pulled back when he needed space, turned when cooldowns returned, and used the narrow lane to keep all four opponents from surrounding him at once.

One enemy fell.

Then another.

A third tried to retreat and failed.

By the time the fight ended, only the enemy marksman remained.

Cyrus’s own health bar was barely visible.

The marksman had fallen badly behind during the match. If Cyrus could survive long enough to land two clean attacks, he could stop the push and probably save their base until the others respawned.

The enemy player seemed equally nervous.

Their character stood at the edge of attack range, hesitating before finally beginning the shooting animation.

Cyrus had no abilities ready.

He moved forward anyway.

The first shot landed.

His already tiny health bar shrank again, but not enough to kill him.

He could survive another hit.

Cyrus kept moving.

The enemy fired again just as Cyrus reached his own attack range.

His character struck back.

The marksman’s health dropped to almost nothing.

A tiny amount of life-steal restored several points to Cyrus’s health bar.

Enough for one more hit.

Cyrus already knew how the exchange would end.

He had won.

Then a call banner suddenly covered part of his screen.

The connection stuttered at the same time.

Cyrus’s thumb dragged across the controls, but instead of stepping toward the enemy player, his character veered sideways and ran directly into the enemy base.

Cyrus stared at the screen, immediately rejected the call, and switched back to the game.

It was too late.

The nearly dead marksman had somehow survived long enough to walk into range and finish off Cyrus’s undefended base.

The defeat screen appeared.

Miles turned toward him with complete confusion.

"Why did you suddenly stop moving at the end?"

Lena Larkin, who had been tucked against Cyrus’s other side watching the entire match, answered before he could.

"Someone called him right when he was fighting."

She picked up a strawberry from the bowl on the coffee table and held it toward Cyrus.

Cyrus was still checking the unfamiliar number that had ruined the match, so he reached over with his free hand, accepted the fruit, and ate it.

"Thanks for the strawberry."

His attention remained on the missed call.

That spam caller had remarkable timing.

The irritation surfaced quickly and disappeared just as fast.

Miles had asked him before to come over and play mobile games, but Cyrus’s old phone had not handled them well enough to make the idea worthwhile. Helena’s absurdly expensive replacement had finally removed that excuse.

So today, Cyrus had fulfilled one of the younger boy’s wishes and discovered mobile gaming for himself.

All three of them were using new accounts, which kept the matches reasonably balanced even though their skill levels were not exactly equal.

Cyrus still preferred games with an actual controller.

Touchscreen controls felt less precise.

On the other hand, being able to start a game while sitting anywhere on a couch was convenient enough that he could understand the appeal.

Lena remained pressed comfortably against his side whenever he played, watching his screen rather than using her own phone.

She did not appear bored.

Across the room, Faye sat with a book open in her hands.

At home, she did not bother hiding herself the way she did at school.

Her hair was arranged naturally, and without the deliberate effort to disappear beneath it, the difference in her appearance was obvious. Cyrus had already seen this version of her before, so he did not stare.

Faye had been reading quietly while the three of them played.

Once the match ended and the noise settled, she checked the time, closed her book, and headed toward the kitchen.

Noon was approaching.

Miles and Lena immediately abandoned the failed match and put on an animated movie instead.

Cyrus watched them settle in, then got up and followed Faye.

She had just finished tying an apron around her waist when she noticed him entering the kitchen.

"You can stay in the living room. I can make lunch myself."

"I came to steal your techniques."

Faye blinked.

Cyrus delivered the ridiculous statement with such a serious expression that she could not help laughing.

"Then I guess we will see how much you can steal today."

"My memory is usually pretty good."

A hint of amusement reached Cyrus’s face as well.

His bangs hid most of his eyes, so Faye could not see the expression clearly, but the slight lift at the corner of his mouth and the change in his voice were enough.

Cooking with only two people turned out to be easier than the five-person school activity they had done before.

Cyrus naturally kept enough space between them that Faye never needed to ask him to move.

If she needed the sink, he stepped aside before she reached it.

If she opened a cabinet, he did not crowd behind her.

When both of them needed the same counter, Cyrus shifted his cutting board over without making her adjust around him.

Faye noticed every small thing.

Most people did not mean to make her uncomfortable. They simply moved without thinking, forcing her to retreat, wait, or quietly work around them.

Cyrus never seemed to need instructions.

That distance, neither cold nor invasive, was strangely relaxing.

He did not know how to cook, but he was willing to help with anything simple.

Faye handed him vegetables and showed him how she wanted them cut. When he held the knife too stiffly, she explained how to position his fingers. When he stared at another ingredient without knowing what to do with it, she showed him the easiest way to prepare it instead of laughing.

Cyrus followed directions carefully.

He was not talented, but he was useful.

That was enough.

Every so often, Miles or Lena wandered into the kitchen carrying something from the fruit bowl.

They treated feeding the two older students like payment for preparing lunch.

Miles appeared first and offered Cyrus a piece of sliced apple.

Several minutes later, Lena returned with fruit for Faye.

Then Miles came back again despite being told to watch his movie.

By the third visit, Cyrus suspected the children were using the kitchen as an excuse to avoid sitting still.

Nobody stopped them.

The house was large enough that four people should have felt scattered through it, yet the sounds kept overlapping naturally.

The movie played from the living room.

Miles occasionally shouted commentary at the screen.

Lena wandered between the couch and kitchen.

Faye gave Cyrus another instruction over the sound of food cooking.

Cyrus answered while concentrating far too seriously on a task that required almost no skill.

The whole place felt comfortable.

Lunch was ready before long.

After they ate, Cyrus had no reason to leave immediately.

It was the weekend, and he had little homework waiting for him. Staying longer also meant more time to play with Miles and Lena, which the two younger kids clearly expected after inviting him over.

Another game began on the couch.

Faye returned to her seat nearby, content to watch.

After a while, Cyrus glanced toward her.

"Do you want to play a round with us?"

Faye immediately shook her head.

"I genuinely cannot understand that game."

Miles twisted around.

"My sister is terrible at games."

"I am not terrible at games."

Lena joined the defense without hesitation.

"My sister is not bad at everything."

Three answers came almost on top of each other.

Cyrus laughed.

A little later, Miles made such an obvious mistake that even Faye, who claimed not to understand the game, realized something had gone wrong.

He charged in alone again.

His character disappeared almost immediately.

Cyrus leaned back against the couch.

"You have a remarkable amount of confidence for someone who keeps doing that."

"I thought they were weak."

"There were four of them."

"I did not see the other three."

"That seems important."

Lena started laughing first.

Faye followed.

Miles protested loudly enough that the laughter in the living room lasted well beyond the failed match.

The easy atmosphere continued until around one-thirty.

Lena yawned.

Not long afterward, Miles did the same.

Faye covered a yawn of her own.

Apparently the household shared more than a last name.

Cyrus noticed the tiredness settling over all three siblings and understood that their usual afternoon nap was approaching.

It was time for him to leave.

He had arrived sometime in the morning and had already spent several hours eating, playing games, and occupying their living room. Staying while everyone else went to sleep would be unreasonable.

Cyrus stood and gathered his things.

Faye and the two children walked him to the entryway.

Lena rubbed one eye with one hand while waving with the other.

"Big brother, you have to come play again."

"I will come again when I have time."

Miles looked considerably less sleepy despite yawning only minutes earlier.

"Next time we are winning."

"That depends on whether you stop attacking entire teams by yourself."

"I can do it next time."

Cyrus decided not to argue.

He shifted his attention toward Faye.

She stood behind the two children, looking more relaxed than she ever did inside St. Alder.

Cyrus lifted one hand.

"I will see you at school."

"I will see you there."

He stepped outside and headed home.

Once he returned to his apartment, Cyrus did not waste the rest of the afternoon.

He sat down with his schoolwork.

Studying made a person productive.

At least, that was what Cyrus told himself.

The motivation held well enough for roughly an hour.

Then his new phone vibrated beside him.

Cyrus put down his pen and checked the screen.

The message was from Audra Sloane.

Audra: Are you free right now?