“We’re playing again this week. They play every week, apparently.”
“Can’t you just let yourself lose?”
“No.” He plugged in a cord connecting the console to the TV, then sat up on his haunches. “You wanna play? Emery gave me two controllers.”
“Okay.” I had no other plans for the rest of the night except scrolling on my phone and probably using my dildo in the shower. I’d been conscious of the noise ever since Taylor mentioned it, and at least the shower was loud, with the running water and ventilation fan.
Taylor chucked me a controller and sat on the couch beside me, but on the very end, so there was half a metre of space between us. He loaded up the game, which blasted loud music and computer generated images of soccer players — or, in this case,footballplayers — and Taylor gave me a quick rundown of the controls that was purposely brief and useless because once we started a game, I had no idea what the hell was going on.
The first match finished as quickly as it began. “Bathroom,” I announced, leaving my controller on the couch. Once I was sitting on the toilet lid, door closed, I took out my phone and searched uphow to win FIFA.
I scanned the first article, then googled a few more queries.
Cheat hacks FIFA how to win.
Best strategies to win in FIFA.
Controls explained FIFA.
“You were in there for a long time,” Taylor commented when I returned.
“I got distracted cleaning the sink.”
He barked a laugh. “You’ve never cleaned the bathroom in your life.” At my expression, he added, “Iclean it, idiot.”
“You — ” Now that I thought about it, the mirror was always shiny, the tiles white as teeth, and the shower glass never got grimy. The rug in the living room was clean too, as well as the kitchen sink and stove top.
“Do you clean everything?” I asked. I always thought I was partly responsible for the dorm’s tidiness, since I cleaned up after myself, but it dawned on me that it was more likely Taylor deep cleaned the place without me noticing.
“It’s a habit,” Taylor said, looking like he wanted me to stop talking, his eyes on the TV as he set up another match.
“Wow. You were born to be a housewife.”
“Shut up.”
“Or a house husband, in this case.”
“Shut up, Archie.” He looked at me sideways. “You mention the housewife thing a lot. Is that some sort of fetish?”
Now it was my turn to tell him to shut up. “Though, you gotta admit, the French maid uniform is pretty hot.”
“That’s a housemaid, idiot, not housewife.”
“Close enough.”
Taylor started the game, which put an end to that conversation. At least until half-time, where the ‘hacks’ I’d searched up had turned out to be useful. Probably mostly because now I knew which buttons on my controller corresponded with each movement.
I finished half-time with two goals to Taylor’s zero. We waited for the countdown to the next half.
“I could see you in a French maid uniform,” Taylor murmured.
“I know you’re just trying to distract me,” I said, refusing to be baited, and I won the game, three to one, punching the air in celebration. “Suck on that!”
He just gave me a half-lidded look that was honestly frightening. It made me think of a viper about to pounce.
We played again, and then again, and I increasingly understood how people got addicted to video games.
“Does this have other games?” I asked.
