Chapter 1: The Game That Changed Everything

Go ahead, call me a screw-up. I’m eighteen—technically an adult, but I still feel like a kid who just blew up his whole world.

How am I supposed to explain this? Mrs. Harper isn’t like anyone else’s mom. She’s young, gorgeous—almost too real to look at straight.

The first time I saw her was at Kyle’s place. It was a sweltering summer day—AC blasting but still sticky, the smell of sunscreen and cut grass drifting through the open window. We were sweating over a video game when Mrs. Harper brought us sodas.

She wore a spaghetti-strap tank and cutoff shorts, radiating this wild, restless energy that made every other mom seem ancient. Her skin was pale and perfect, her waist impossibly slim, and there was this faint, sweet perfume that stuck in my brain.

She set the cans down, then flopped onto the battered sectional next to us, scrolling through her phone. With a mischievous grin, she pulled up the game app and joined our session. The way she lounged—one bare knee up, totally relaxed—she looked more like someone my age than Kyle’s mom.

Kyle shot me a look like he wanted to sink through the floor. “Seriously, Mom? Can’t you act normal in front of my friends?!”

I didn’t know where to look. I kept sneaking glances at her waist, until Mrs. Harper caught me, laughed, reached out, and tapped my forehead, teasing, “Eyes up here, champ. Or you want me to tell your mom you’ve got a staring problem?”

Mrs. Harper’s cheeks flushed, and she just mumbled a soft apology to Kyle, but the playful spark never left her eyes.

That night after I got home, my head spun with thoughts of Mrs. Harper. I remembered how we played games together, and on impulse, I sent her a friend request. My thumb hovered over the send button, my heart thumping like I’d just asked her out in person. What if she laughed? What if she told Kyle? But at ten p.m., she accepted.

I invited her to play a game, and she agreed. We turned on voice chat, and she said lazily, “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed, kid?”

Her voice was soft, smoky—like she’d been stretched out on the couch all night, reruns flickering in the background, lights low. I’d never known a woman’s voice could sound that nice.

I told her I wasn’t a kid—I was eighteen. She laughed, called me “big guy,” then reminded me I was still just a year older than her son.

Nothing happened that night. We just played for hours. Only once, when I was surrounded and getting hammered in the game, she suddenly said, “Don’t worry, I’ve got your back.”

It was simple, but my heart nearly exploded.

We played until midnight, when she said she had to go to work.

I wondered—what job takes you out at midnight?

Mrs. Harper asked, “Aren’t you gonna study for finals?”

I shrugged. “What’s the point? We’re just trade school kids. We’ll end up working in a garage anyway. Who cares?”

She was quiet for a while, then finally said, “It’s just that you haven’t given it your best shot.”

I watched her log off, feeling weirdly empty.

I clicked her profile pic—a selfie in the bar’s back office, a neon Budweiser sign glowing in the mirror behind her. I stared at it for a long time.

After that, I always invited Mrs. Harper to play. If she was online, she’d always join me.

I got used to seeking her out, until one day I finally got up the nerve to ask her to be my in-game girlfriend.

Every time before, Mrs. Harper always accepted my invites.

But this time, she sent a question mark.

My face burned with embarrassment. I hurried to explain: if our intimacy level went up, we’d get cute hearts between us in the game.

She sent a row of laughing emojis, then typed: “Guess we’re official now, huh?” Her profile icon flashed with a heart, and I swear I felt it in my chest.

We became a couple in the game. I was so happy I could barely sit still.

Through the screen, watching those little hearts float between us, my own heart pounded out of control.

Mrs. Harper started inviting me to play with her friends. Whenever I joined, her friends would tease:

“Oh, your hubby’s here?”

“Isn’t this your little man?”

Mrs. Harper just giggled, telling them to knock it off, but her eyes sparkled.

But then, that weird, flirty vibe started bleeding into real life.