October 7, 2014 – Winner

The tournament we’d been training for was finally here.

By then, I was burned out from scrims against June and Jackie. It wasn’t fun anymore - every match just reminded me how close they’d gotten. So yeah, I was thankful it was over. Or maybe just relieved it would stop reminding me that she laughed harder at his jokes.

It was an all-day Saturday event, held in a half-lit convention hall inside a nearby mall. Rows of computers buzzed beneath fluorescent lights that flickered like they were on life support. Cables coiled across the sticky linoleum floor like veins. The air smelled like instant noodles, sweat, and cold fries - gamer incense, basically.

We arrived early - partly to scout opponents, mostly to look like we knew what we were doing. Some teams looked terrifying. Matching jerseys, imported keyboards, their own mousepads rolled up like scrolls of divine authority. The kind who didn’t talk much because they were too busy visualizing your defeat.

We hadn’t come expecting victory. Sure, it’d be nice, but this was about the experience - the story. If we got knocked out early, we already had a plan: grab burgers, pretend we didn’t care, and trash-talk the winners like we totally could’ve beaten them if we’d “taken it seriously.”

But luck, for once, was merciful. Our bracket was manageable - no legendary-sounding teams like Crimson Vortex or Team Hydra. Just groups like Bad Good Boys and NetRoom Ninjas. The kind that made you think maybe, just maybe, you had a shot.

And anyone who’s ever watched sports knows the truth: in a best-of-one, chaos doesn’t play fair - it plays favorites.

By noon, the hall was packed. Between matches, we’d glance up and see classmates filling the aisles, yelling, laughing, and inhaling overpriced snacks. Joseph - our fourth wheel of a friend - showed up too, even though he couldn’t tell a Dota hero from a Pokémon evolution. He didn’t even pretend to care. His eyes were glued to the crowd, hunting for girls like it was an open-world quest.

And speaking of girls - a few from our class came too. Mostly Jackie’s friends.

Ginny was there, short hair, sharp glare, the kind of look that made you feel like she was collecting **** material. Which, considering she sat behind me in class, she basically was - front-row seats to my daily routine of staring at Jackie like an idiot.

The real surprise was Pat. One of the cool girls. The kind who didn’t even need to talk to be relevant - existence alone was enough to start rumors. Yet there she was, waving and yelling my name like I was an esports celebrity. I had no idea why, but I wasn’t about to complain.

For a moment, I let myself feel it - the lights, the noise, the ridiculous thrill of not being invisible.

And then I saw her.

Jackie.

She was sitting beside June.

Every time I looked away and looked back, he seemed closer. Maybe it was my imagination. Maybe not. Either way, my stomach twisted like it wanted to fold in on itself.

Something in me clicked. Despite the distraction - or maybe because of it - I played like I’d been possessed by every god of competitive gaming. They weren’t ready for our ultra-aggressive style. Every perfect combo, every clutch play, every last hit was me screaming through my fingers instead of my mouth.

And every time I looked up, there she was - cheering, shouting, once even jumping to her feet like we’d just won the International.

Each cheer hit me like a jolt of pure caffeine and validation mixed into one.

By the time we reached the finals, I was running purely on adrenaline - and the ****, stupid hope that maybe Jackie would look at me the way she looked at June.

We had a short break before the last match. Kyle and Mike were huddled over a notepad, scribbling strategies like generals before a war. Our opponents looked intimidating - black-and-red jerseys, expensive rigs, the posture of people who were used to winning. I leaned back, pretending to rest, but my mind wouldn’t shut up.

Then came the wave - classmates crowding around to wish us luck. Minnie led them, of course. She hugged Kyle, whispered something in his ear that turned him into a firework. Mike looked seconds away from screaming, but managed a polite nod. I was still laughing under my breath when I heard her.

“You were amazing.”

Jackie. Standing right in front of me, sunlight in human form.

“Thanks,” I said, smiling before I could stop myself. My cheeks ached from it. I was about to say something - probably stupid - like thanks for watching or you look nice today when it happened.

A tap on the shoulder.

No prize for guessing who.

“Can I talk to you for a sec?”

June.

My stomach went cold. I followed him to a quiet corner. He looked jittery - bouncing slightly, rubbing his palms together like a man about to commit emotional arson.

“Hey, Allen.”

“Yeah?”

“I… I want to make Jackie and me official. I was gonna ask her after the finals.”

There it was. The hit I’d seen coming but still hadn’t braced for.

I smiled - too wide, too sharp. “You think she’ll say yes?”

He scratched his neck, smiling sheepishly. “Yeah, I think so. But I wanted to ask you first. You know, out of respect. ’Cause I like hanging out with you guys.”

Something in my chest twisted so tight it might’ve splintered a rib.

“Why are you asking me?” I said, smiling like my face forgot how to stop. “You don’t need permission.”

He hesitated. “Because you like her too… right?”

I spotted an old monitor on a nearby table - one of those heavy, boxy ones that looked like it could kill a man. For one stupid second, I imagined smashing it over his head and saying respect that.

“I don’t,” I lied. Too fast. Too clean. Then I punched his shoulder - the friendly, performative kind. “Go ahead, man. I’m rooting for you.”

He looked relieved. I looked fine.

Inside, I was breaking in perfect silence.

“After you guys win, I’ll ask her!” he called after me as I walked away.

That made me stop for half a second - but I didn’t turn around.

Mike caught my expression the moment I sat back down. His brow furrowed. “What did he want?”

I glanced up - Jackie was looking my way. I bit my lip and said, loud enough for her to hear, “Something dumb I didn’t care about.”

She turned away. Probably looking for him.

Mike leaned in. “Bullsh-crap.”

I shrugged. “It’s fine, dum-dum.”

Thankfully, our names were called right after. Finals time.

As the loading bar crept across the screen, my head filled with noise. I could already see it - June asking, Jackie saying yes, everyone cheering. For a fleeting, shameful second, I considered throwing the match.

But then I looked at Kyle - who was here to impress Minnie.

At Mike - who’d spent more hours grinding with me than sleeping.

And I couldn’t do that to them.

“Maybe she’ll say no,” I whispered. “Maybe she’ll notice you if you win.”

Then I laughed. “Pathetic.”

“That’s right!” Kyle shouted beside me, thinking I was trash-talking. “Their draft sucks!”

I grinned. “Let’s go,” I said, louder. “Let’s go.”

The finals began.

Kyle and Mike dominated early. And me? I played like a man on fire. Every move, every kill, every perfect combo felt like exorcising something ugly out of me.

When it was over - we’d won.

The prize money was laughable - barely enough for two pizzas - but the applause, the claps on the back, the cheers from the crowd? Worth every second. For a few blissful moments, I let myself believe maybe Jackie saw me differently now. Not as the awkward guy behind her, but as someone who could actually win.

I didn’t look for her after.

If I saw them - if she said yes - I knew that image would burn itself into me forever.

So I stayed with the team. We bought pizza, shared it with classmates who’d cheered for us. The restaurant buzzed with laughter, the smell of melted cheese mixing with victory. For a while, it was almost enough.

Until they walked in.

Hand in hand.

“Oh, by the way,” June said, grinning, “Jackie and I are official.”

The table erupted in cheers and whistles.

I didn’t say a word. I just clapped, because Mike and Kyle were watching, and I couldn’t ruin their happiness.

Then June leaned in and kissed her.

My body reacted before my brain - I turned away so fast my neck cracked.

I stared at my slice of pizza, watching the cheese stretch and stretch, long and mocking.

Jackie and June laughed softly together - a sound that filled the room and somehow hollowed me out.

I stood soon after, grinning like I wasn’t crumbling. “I gotta go! Been expected home for, uh… five hours. Didn’t think we’d make it this far anyway.”

Everyone laughed. I waved without looking anyone in the eye. If I did, they’d see it - the truth.

Outside, the night air felt colder than it should’ve.

I flagged a cab, slumped into the back seat.

“Where to?” the driver asked.

“Home,” I said automatically, closing my eyes as I finally remembered to breathe.

He glanced back. “And where’s that?”

“Oh.” I blinked, like I’d just come back from somewhere far. “Right. Sorry.” I gave him my address, my voice barely above a whisper.

As the car moved, my reflection in the window looked faded - like someone half-erased from a sketch. I’d carried the team. Played like a man possessed.

And still lost the only thing that mattered.

They probably didn’t even notice me - silent, hollowed out - the guy who took first place in the tournament everyone watched, and second in the one that mattered.

It was official.

I’d beaten everyone - except June.

I buried my face in my hands. My chest throbbed. My gut felt like it was filled with rocks. It wasn’t just Jackie. It was everything - every stupid thing I said, every time I hurt someone, every time I swore I’d change and didn’t.

The anger came quietly - not loud or dramatic. Just that dull, smoldering heat in the ribs that wouldn’t go away.

At karma. At fate. At whatever judge was up there keeping score and deciding I hadn’t suffered enough.

Then I thought of Paulie.

Right.

All this - the games, the pride, the petty jealousy - and I almost forgot.

No matter how bad this hurt, it was nothing compared to what Paulie felt that day. I lost Jackie, but I never had her. My pain was private. His was public - and I made it happen.

He had to face everyone. His mom too.

I never even asked her name.

I’d promised myself I’d be better. ****. Quieter. I swore I’d learn.

But karma wasn’t done with me. Maybe I hadn’t learned enough.

Somewhere out there, June and Jackie were laughing.

Somewhere out there, Paulie and his mom were trying to start over.

And me - I was still here, running laps in the same race, chasing redemption like it owed me something.

Then I saw it - a dark blur crossing the street, low and fast.

A dog.

By the time I turned my head, it was gone.