Sidequest for Love by L.H. Cosway

“You don’t have to. It’s late. Just stay here.”

“No, I really should go.” I stood firm. She had no idea how difficult it would be to spend an entire night in her bed and not do something that would jeopardise our friendship irreversibly. Somehow, she’d become one of the most important people in my life. Far more important than Annabelle had ever been.

Looking back, I saw our online courtship for what it truly was; empty and hollow compared to the kaleidoscope of feelings and frustrations Afric seemed to provoke in me.

“Okay, well, text me and let me know when you get home safe. Otherwise, I’ll worry.”

“I will,” I replied, zipping up my jacket and heading for the door. I was halfway there when I stopped. Some foreign urge took over as I turned back around and approached Afric’s bed. I swear I heard her breath hitch when I bent and pressed the softest kiss to her temple.

“I know you don’t like kisses, but I just want you to know how glad I am that we’re talking again. The last two days have been miserable.”

A faint smile touched her lips. “It’s a good thing we agreed never to fight again. And it’s mouth kisses I have a problem with. You can kiss my forehead all you like.”

I laughed gently and shook my head. “I better go.”

“Don’t forget to text me,” she called as I left her room.

“I won’t,” I called back.

***

The following day I was busy with work and organising our road trip to Cornwall. I told Afric that I’d take care of everything, and she seemed happy to leave me to the preparations. It was a four-to-five-hour drive, and luckily James had agreed to loan me his tent, gas cooker, cooler box, and two sleeping bags.

I didn’t share Afric’s hope and excitement for spotting UFOs, though I was looking forward to spending time with her. I even went shopping for food so that I could cook dinner while we camped. I was also looking forward to getting out of London, clearing my head, and figuring out how to tell Annabelle I didn’t want to see her again.

I arranged for Michaela to cover for me at work, then collected my car from my grandma’s. On Friday afternoon, I parked on the street outside Afric’s flat before shooting off a text.

Neil: Are you ready? I’m outside and parked on double yellow lines.

Her response came promptly.

Afric: Say no more. I’m coming down now.

A minute later, she appeared. Her hair was down, and she wore a pale pink knitted top with a loose neckline, causing it to fall over her bare shoulder. It wasn’t supposed to be provocative, but something about the sight of her bare skin made my throat thicken. I emerged from the car and took the backpack she had slung over her shoulder.

“I’ll put this in the boot for you,” I said.

I hadn’t intended for it to happen, but my knuckles brushed her exposed shoulder, and she inhaled sharply. Her skin was so soft. I couldn’t get the feel of it out of my head as I withdrew, and oddly, Afric wouldn’t meet my gaze. Instead, she muttered, “Thanks,” before going to sit in the passenger seat. I returned to the driver’s side, put the car in gear, and we set off.

I was aware of her unusual silence and wanted to ask her about it, but I bit my tongue. Had I made her feel awkward by taking her bag like that? I’d thought it was a chivalrous move, but she seemed to have reacted weirdly to it. Some women didn’t like men to do stuff like that for them anymore, opening doors and such, which I completely understood. I just had no idea if Afric shared those preferences.

“You look nice today,” I said, glancing at her briefly before bringing my attention back to the road.

“Thank you,” she replied. “You look nice, too.”

A warmth filled my chest. I liked that she liked how I looked. “Thanks.”

She leaned forward and tapped on the touch screen radio. “Do you mind if I sync my phone up with this so that we can listen to some music?” she asked, breaking through my thoughts.

“Sure, go for it.”

She played around with her phone, then tapped the radio screen before an unusual electro song came on.

“What is this?”

“Yellow Magic Orchestra. They’re a Japanese electronic band who’ve been going since the late seventies. I love their stuff. It reminds me of the music from video games in the nineties.”

“Weren’t you a foetus in the nineties?” I asked, wryly amused.

“Technically, yes, but my parents were cheapskates, so they made me play my older brothers’ and sisters’ hand me down consoles instead of buying me a new one.”

“What age were you when you started gaming?”

She touched her chin. “Hmm, let me see. I was definitely under ten when I played my first video game, but it wasn’t until I was a teenager that I became obsessed, and it wasn’t a healthy obsession either. I often lost months to gaming. Nothing in the real world could compete. Then eventually the spell would break, and I’d realise I hadn’t showered in so long my skin had developed a film.” She gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “I have more of a healthy relationship with it now, though. I know when I need a break, and I’ll give myself an entire week off.”

“That does sound healthier. And I, for one, am glad that I didn’t know you during the non-showering phase of your life,” I said, and she chuckled again before falling quiet, her gaze focused out the window. It took forever for us to get out of London traffic, but once we hit the motorway, it was smooth sailing for a while.