For The Love Of The Game

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Enter Player Name: NOAH

Saying that I was in deep shit did not do justice to the situation.

"Uggh," I grunted, letting my head smack against the wet tiled wall. There was no winning against these invading thoughts.

I stepped out of the shower. The water dripped off my body and onto the floor. Not bothering to dry off, I slipped on a pair of dark gray sweatpants. The soft fabric clung to my damp skin as I entered my room. It was still empty, just white walls, a mattress on the floor, and a half-assembled desk on the right. The will to unpack swiftly escaped me last night when... when she happened.

Riley. That cursed woman and cause of my current predicament.

I had seen her before she noticed me. The way her gaze burned holes into my wall of boxes almost made me burst into laughter. A vein threatened to pop out of her forehead as she tried to will the cardboard to grow legs and walk away.

When she finally made her way up and said hello, I got a good look at those beautiful and rich hazel eyes. Gazing into them was like watching warm honey caramelize. Her milky chocolate hair cascaded messily, framing her lightly sun-kissed face and enhancing her earthy colors. My eyes wanted to drift down and follow the voluptuous curves outlined by her tightly fitted dress.

But then...

All traces of my attraction to her were crushed to rubble after she broke my high-end gaming computer. Surely, an omen that I should not pursue her. She was the devil incarnate dressed in sheep's clothing. How could one single woman cause so much damage?

Which brought me to my current dilemma: a broken fifteen thousand dollar computer. What the hell was I going to do? Since yesterday, I have progressed through the seven stages of grief. Right now, I was at acceptance. Acceptance that I am royally screwed, and not in the way that I enjoyed.

"NOAH!"

The sound of pounding against my front door vibrated throughout my apartment, forcing me out of my self-induced misery.

I glided out of the bedroom and towards the front door, excited to see the owner of the voice. "Mom! What are you doing here?"

I pulled her diminutive form into a bear hug, causing her to wobble the pot in her hands.

"Noah!" She scorned, yet her blue eyes brightened with joy.

I held her tightly, careful not to stain her fancy yellow Dior dress. Her ash gray hair was neatly pinned into a bun, not a strand out of place. She pulled back and wiped her face, scowling at the water drops on her fingertips.

"Noah! You're damp. What have I told you about getting out of the shower without drying? You're going to make yourself ill!" She barked, raising her voice at the end for emphasis.

"I'll be fine, mom. More importantly, what do we have here? Some of your famous stew, I hope." I took the pot from her hands and walked inside. My mouth watered as my taste buds tingled with anticipation — a perfect blend of spices and herbs.

Her soft footsteps clacked against the floor as she followed, rambling about this and that. "Also, put on a shirt. You will poke someone's eye out with your chest like that."

"You know, mom, I live in my own place now. You can't exactly just tell me what to do anymore." I smiled and watched my comment crawl under her skin.

Her shoulders shifted. "I am your mother, Noah." She waved her finger in my face. "I will always tell you what to do. Whether you listen to me or not is an entirely different battle."