CHAPTER 03: NOT THE TYPE
1224 Words
ZARA'S POV
I take a moment just to truly look at him.
His beard is a little more than stubble, simple, understated, but it suits him. With his coat now off, I can see the black shirt snug against his arms, outlining biceps that clearly didn’t appear overnight. Still, it’s not his build that captures my attention. It’s the shirt.
Across the front, a jumble of letters and numbers is printed like a secret message. Beneath that, in crisp white font, it says: My superpower.
I gesture toward it. “That’s a pretty interesting shirt. Do you actually know what it means?”
He chuckles, eyes lighting up with a mix of pride and amusement. “It’s a code string. “I’m a programmer. Mostly software stuff, but I’ve done some game development too.”
I blink, intrigued. “Games? Like what kind?”
“Mainly RPGs,” he says with a casual shrug. “I was part of the dev team for a few popular titles.”
Something about the way he says it, low-key, no brag, makes me lean in a little. “Wait… seriously? One of those games?”
His lips twitch. “You play?”
I nod slowly, a grin starting to form. “Obsessively. I’m level fifty-six. Alpha white wolf.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “No way. That’s impressive.”
“You sound surprised,” I tease.
“I am,” he says with a low chuckle. “Not many women admit to being into that kind of thing. And definitely none who look like you.”
That earns him a raised brow. “Careful. You’re dangerously close to sounding like a stereotype.”
He lifts both hands, mock defense in his eyes. “Guilty. But still, color me impressed. I’m level seventy-four. Black alpha. We’d be from rival packs.”
I laugh, and it feels light, effortless. “That explains the competitive energy.”
He leans casually against the railing, watching me like I’ve suddenly become ten times more interesting. “You really don’t give off ‘gamer’ vibes.”
“I hear that a lot,” I admit with a shrug. There’s a flutter in my chest I’m trying to ignore. “People look at me and assume I’m all image. But the game? It’s my escape. A way to step out of everything for a while.”
He nods, his expression softening. “I get that. That’s what I love about programming. You’re building worlds for people to lose themselves in. Even just for a moment.”
The way he says it, without ego, just passion, makes me like him even more.
“I used to keep my gaming a secret,” I admit, voice quieter now. “My dad hated it. Thought it was useless. I’d sneak around just to get some time in. And the guys I dated? They were only into sports games. They never got the appeal of fantasy worlds. Some even said I didn’t ‘look like the type’ to play anything intense.”
“Morons,” he says plainly.
The simplicity of the word makes me laugh.
“Yeah, I thought so too,” I say, my breath catching slightly.
He watches me closely. “I’m really glad you didn’t quit. Seriously. Knowing someone like you enjoys something I helped bring to life? That makes all those long nights debugging worth it.”
“Do you still get to work on games?”
He lets his gaze drift out across the water. “Not as much as I’d like. Things are… busy. Other commitments have taken over most of my time.”
I nod slowly. “Yeah. I get that. I’ve had to set aside a lot of things I love, too. There’s always something else that needs attention.”
He turns back to me. “So what do you do?”
I hesitate for a beat, then offer the truth. “I’m a social media influencer. But not the flashy, follow-me-for-outfits kind. I focus on advocacy, mental health, social issues, using my platform to help people.”
His eyes widen slightly. “That’s… honestly kind of amazing.”
“Thanks.” I glance down for a second, then meet his gaze again. “My dad doesn’t consider it a real job. Thinks it’s just a phase. But I’ve raised money for people who needed it, started real conversations, helped people speak up.”
His whole demeanor shifts, and when he responds, it’s with something raw and genuine. “That’s meaningful work. More real than most.”
The words take me by surprise, not because of what he said, but because he said it like he truly meant it. Like he sees me.
We fall quiet for a moment, but it isn’t awkward. If anything, it’s charged with something unspoken.
“It’s kind of funny,” he muses. “We both build ways for people to escape. You do it through connection. I do it with code.”
I blink, then smile softly. “I never thought of it that way.”
He nods slowly. “And yet, here we are. Two world-builders meeting outside the worlds we created.”
I let that settle between us, then laugh gently. “Who would've thought?”
“Not me,” he says, smiling back. “But I’m glad we did.”
So am I, I think. But I don’t say it out loud.
My eyes drift back to his shirt, the strange little code on it, the confidence he wears it with, the way it reflects something deeper than what he lets on. He isn’t just witty or good-looking. He’s layered. He builds spaces people run to when reality is too much. And he takes that seriously.
Maybe that’s why I’m still standing here. Still talking. Still smiling in a way I hadn’t expected tonight.
“You know,” I say quietly, “you’re kind of rewriting how I picture coders.”
He raises a brow. “Oh, really?”
“Yeah,” I nod. “And gamers too.”
His lips twitch in amusement. “You saying I don’t look like a guy who could log twelve hours straight on Moon Risers?”
I laugh. “Maybe I’m saying you’re full of surprises.”
He grins. “Funny. I was just thinking the same thing about you. I didn’t expect to meet a white wolf from Lunar Crescent tonight, let alone one who can keep up with me.”
“Keep up?” I lift a brow. “Are you trying to challenge me?”
“Could be,” he says, eyes glinting. “But I already know I’d lose. And honestly? I’d be okay with that.”
Something soft and warm blooms in my chest.
This night wasn’t planned. But maybe those are the ones that matter most, the unexpected ones. The ones where you meet someone who doesn’t fit the mold, who understands what it means to disappear into another world because they’ve built their own.
Someone who looks past the surface and sees the real you, your purpose, your passion, your escape.
And standing here on this quiet bridge, the city stretching behind us and the night wide open in front, I realize one thing with absolute certainty.
I don’t want this moment to end.
- Writer
