[Lucas POV]
As I was returning home in the uber after dropping Alex off, the night air felt cooler than usual, and my mind was spinning with everything that had happened. I replayed the day in my head, trying to piece together how we even got to that point—where we actually did it. I'd planned so many things for our first real date, had all these ideas about how it might go, when I'd ask her to be my girlfriend, how I'd make it special. But in the end, it just sort of happened, and I didn't regret any of it. If anything, it felt right. Natural. Like everything just clicked into place.
I'd imagined a million scenarios, but none of them matched the reality. The way Alex looked at me when I did it, the way she didn't hesitate or stop me at any step, the way we just… let it happen. It was spontaneous, but still special for me. And yeah, maybe it was fast—maybe it was crazy to do all that after just a few days of knowing each other, but we were both in it, both consenting, and it just felt right. I couldn't stop thinking about the experience, about Alex, about how everything just lined up, about how beautiful she looked when I was doing it.
And, of course, my "gamer" power didn't let the moment go to waste. I'd even picked up a few new skills related to, well, what we did. I ignored those skill notifications when I was with her but I made a mental note to grind those skills too, just like I did with kissing. If there was a way to get better at something, I'd find it. I will not talk about how I will do it but I will find a way.
By the time I reached home, the streetlights were casting long shadows across the driveway. My parents' car was already parked outside. They'd gone out on a date tonight—something they tried to do every month when they could both get time off from their jobs. It was one of those little rituals that kept them close, I guess. I let myself in quietly, feeling a weird mix of anticipation and contentment.
"Hey, guys," I called out as I stepped inside. My dad was sprawled on the couch, half-watching a football game, remote in one hand, a can of soda in the other. I could hear the clatter of pots and pans from the kitchen—Mom was making dinner, humming softly to herself.
I wandered over to the kitchen and started helping her chop vegetables. There was something calming about the routine, the simple rhythm of preparing food. It helped settle my mind. But Mom, with her uncanny mom intuition, glanced over at me and asked, "Why are you so different today? Is everything okay?" Her voice was gentle but probing, the kind of tone that made it impossible to lie.
I didn't panic. I just smiled and said, "Yeah, don't worry. It's good news." She raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced, but let it go for now. "We'll talk about it at the dinner table," I promised.
Dinner was ready soon after. We all gathered around the table—just the three of us. Mom served up the food, and for a moment, it was just the normal clatter of plates and silverware, the smell of home-cooked food filling the air.
"So, did you guys have a good day?" I asked, trying to sound casual.
Dad grinned, a little mischievous. "The best day," he said, winking at Mom.
I couldn't help but smirk. "I bet it wasn't as good as mine," I said, thinking about everything—the paycheck, the new guitar and keyboard, and, of course, Alex. Not that I was about to share all those details with my parents.
I waited for the right moment, then dropped the news. "I got paid today for the game."
Mom's head snapped up, her eyes instantly alert. She was the one who handled the family finances, and any talk of money got her attention fast. Dad just said, "Great," but Mom pressed, "How much?"
I grinned, letting the suspense build for a second. "Twenty-four grand. And that was just from the Play Store," I said, watching their reactions.
Dad's face was priceless—his jaw literally dropped, and he stared at me like I'd just told him I'd won the lottery. Mom was shocked too, her eyes wide, her fork halfway to her mouth. They knew games could make money, but I don't think they'd know exactly how much.
When I explained that this number would only grow by next month, they just stared at me, trying to process it. I could see the wheels turning in their heads, wondering if it was even legal for a high schooler to make that much money from "video games."
For context, my mom's annual salary as a clinic clerk was around $25,000. Dad made about the same as a security officer—mostly sitting in the camera room. Suddenly, their teenage son had made almost their whole year's salary in one month. And how it will only grow by next month is so absurd for them and I could see the disbelief all over their faces.
Dad was the first to recover. He looked at me, really looked at me, and said, "I'm proud of you, son." There was something different in his voice—like he was seeing me as an adult for the first time. I just smiled and nodded, feeling a swell of pride in my chest.
Mom took a little longer to regain her composure. "What are you going to do with it?" she asked, her tone shifting to practical mode. "I won't let you waste it on dumb things." She started talking about saving for college tuition or investing it. She asked to see my bank account balance on the app. When she saw there was only $18,334 left, she raised an eyebrow and asked, "Where did the rest go?"
I explained about Leonard's share, and they nodded, understanding. But when I told them about the instruments—the guitar, the keyboard, all the accessories—Mom just sighed, and Dad nearly choked on his food when he heard the total cost.
They thought I was being reckless, spending so much on things that seemed unnecessary. But they didn't push too hard. They could see that lately I have been trying many things and they just went along with it. They'd always supported me as long as I kept my grades up and stayed out of trouble. I could tell they were proud, even if they didn't fully understand everything I was doing.
Mom pressed again, "What are you planning to do with the rest of the money?"
I told them about my plan to open a company, to hire freelancers and speed up the development of Subway Surfers. I explained how it would help me learn about business, management, and give me real-world experience. They listened, nodding, and I could see the worry starting to fade from their faces.
I even joked, "Mom, you could be my secretary." She just nodded, actually considering it, and Dad laughed at the idea. But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. My parents were too proud to accept money from me directly—they instantly refused when I said it to mom and dad. Dad gave me that 'don't make me mad' look when I said that. But if I gave them a job, they couldn't say no. It would be a way to help them without hurting their pride.
We talked for over an hour at the dinner table, laughing, planning, and just enjoying being together. Eventually, Mom stood up, came over, and hugged my head, whispering, "I'm proud of you, son." I felt a lump in my throat—maybe even a tear or two—but I didn't let it show. Dad joined in, and suddenly we were all wrapped up in a family hug, laughing and holding on a little longer than usual.
After dinner, I went up to my room, feeling lighter than I had in a long time. I leveled up today, got that sweet moolah, did it with Alex and made her my girlfriend, and made my parents happy. What more could I ask for?
As I got ready for bed, my phone buzzed—a message from Alex. We texted for a while before finally saying goodnight. "Goodnight, babe," I sent, grinning at the screen.
I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying everything. Tomorrow I'd see Alex again, and I couldn't wait. I suddenly remembered I had a chess match in three days, a tournament I'd been looking forward to for weeks. I'd have to ask my parents for a leave from school in the morning. For now, I played a few blitz games on my phone, letting the familiar rhythm of the pieces calm my mind, before finally drifting off to sleep—content, grateful, and excited for whatever came next.
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