Chapter 5: Return of the Ex

As for Rachel getting luckier than me, let’s not even mention it. Anyway, she definitely ate more than me at breakfast.

Rachel went full Waffle House—double stack, extra crispy bacon, whipped cream drowning the waffles. She ordered double waffles, extra bacon, and a caramel frappuccino. I barely managed half a bagel. Rachel always said heartbreak was the best seasoning.

Turning heartbreak into appetite, Rachel generously ordered a full spread. "Eat up, my treat!"

She waved her card like she’d just won the lottery. I didn’t argue—free food is free food.

After breakfast, we planned to play some intense ranked games.

We marched home, loaded up the game, and cranked up our playlist—Taylor Swift on repeat, because of course.

But by accident, we ran into our classmate Mike and his girlfriend’s sweet duo queue.

Mike was the kind of guy who always showed up at parties with two bags of chips and a smile. His girlfriend, Emily, waved through her webcam, hair in a messy bun.

As soon as we joined, Mike said, "Hey, don’t leave! My girlfriend’s in a promo match. Got any friends? Call them to help!"

We exchanged glances—promo matches are sacred. You don’t bail on a friend’s promo unless you want to be roasted in group chat forever.

So Rachel and I felt too awkward to leave.

We settled in, resigned to our fate. Sometimes in America, politeness trumps comfort.

Looking through my friend list, I saw a familiar account online. I couldn’t remember who it was, just that we’d played together before and they seemed pretty skilled.

I hesitated, then shrugged. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

I invited him, and Mike started the game.

The lobby filled up. Mike cracked jokes, Emily cheered, Rachel nudged me under the table.

While picking heroes, Rachel asked, "Who did you invite? Looks familiar."

I squinted at the screen. “No idea. Probably someone from solo queue.”

"You know them too? I just can’t remember who it is."

I racked my brain, coming up empty. There were just too many usernames to keep straight.

Then, the lucky random I pulled in turned on his mic.

His voice was unmistakable—deep, a little nervous. My palms went sweaty on the mouse, and I nearly spilled my Mountain Dew.

He gritted his teeth and called my name: "Sam."

I panicked: "Remake! Quick, remake!"

The words shot out before I could stop them. Rachel burst out laughing.

Oh god, something cursed has found me!

The room spun. I could feel my face turning red, even though no one could see me.

After all, I could never forget Will Hayes’s voice.

It haunted me like a song stuck on repeat. I fumbled for the mute button, heart hammering.

But Mike stuttered, "It’s a five-stack, you can’t remake in five-stack..."

Mike sounded apologetic, but rules are rules. I was stuck.

I blacked out.

Everything went fuzzy for a second. I wanted to crawl under the desk and hide from the world.

Either surrender at six minutes or just close the game and pretend to disconnect.

Rachel shrugged, mouthing, “Your call.” The pressure was on.

While I hesitated, Mike’s girlfriend started pleading, "Can we finish this game? I’ve played four promos and still haven’t ranked up."

The guilt hit me hard. In American gaming culture, sabotaging a friend’s promo is practically a felony.

Messing up someone’s promo match is a one-way ticket to bad karma.

No choice, I held my nose and picked top lane.

I tried to pretend I was fine, but my hands were shaking. Rachel squeezed my shoulder in solidarity.

Will Hayes played jungle, and before he even hit level four, he ganked top three times.

He didn’t say a word, but the message was clear: he was there for me, whether I wanted him or not.

The enemy team got so annoyed, they typed in all chat:

[Enemy jungle, are you nuts? Is top lane your dad? You keep coming, don’t you ever stop?]

I almost laughed, but I held it in. The banter in American solo queue is legendary.

Will Hayes calmly replied: [That’s my girlfriend.]

The flex was real, and even the enemy team went silent for a beat.

The enemy team went silent.

Rachel whooped in the background, and Emily giggled. Mike just groaned.

I coldly added, "Ex-girlfriend."

It came out sharper than I meant, but I needed the distance.

Will said, "Sam, you never told me we broke up, so you’re not my ex."

His voice was soft, but insistent. It made my heart ache.