Single Player: Humor, Love, Breast Cancer and a Gaming Girl... by Jamie Nicole

to my loved ones (all two of them) for reference.
    I quickly text him back that I think I may have the flu, can we try for another day (I have barfed more than usual lately, so maybe I do). There’s no response for a couple minutes, then there’s a loud rat-a-tat-tat coming from the front door. NO WAY!
    Jumping from the comfort of my bed, I grab Victoria’s newest PINK hoodie and slip on its matching velour track pants. I hear a second round of thundering knocks as I walk down the hall pulling on the jacket.
    “Jesus,” I say exasperated as I swing open the door and see my brother standing there looking pissed off. What he has to be pissed about I’ve no clue?
    “What the hell Connor?” I grumble turning to the side to let him in. 
    That’s when I see the petite blond standing behind him.  She’s not moving and is considerately waiting for me to invite her into my home. I have no clue what my brother has told her but looking at the nervous expression she’s wearing on her lovely face I can only assume she knows the full extent of my crazy. This is both comforting (because she’ll already know about the panic attacks when I have one) and embarrassing (Seriously, I’m not stupid. I know it’s awkward for people to be around someone like me. Hell, I’m awkward around me.).
    Connor knows he’s forced my hand here and I’m sure he’s aware that when we talk alone next he’s toast. But in the meantime, the one thing I still have intact - despite the ever-present panic disorder that dwells within me like a menacing Jack in the Box - are my good manners. I reach my sweaty, shaking palm out to this new girl on my stoop and shake her outstretched hand. Then I use my other equally sweaty hand to usher her inside with an exaggerated swoop of my arm. I’m comforted by the fact that this charming looking girl seems to be as nervous as me, and all I can think is thank God .
    She hands me a pretty pink bag overflowing with tissue paper and I look up at her in confusion, eyebrows pulled up in their ‘what’s this?’ pose. 
    “That’s just a little something I made recently. Connor told me you like this sort of thing and, well, I was hoping we could become friends,” she finishes her speech quickly, sweetly and looking a little embarrassed.
    Smiling, I take the bag from her as she gives me a go ahead nod, apparently wanting me to open it now so she can see if I approve of what she’s done. After pulling out the top layer of tissue I see another round of equally beautiful fine paper wrapped around a bundle that feels soft to the touch as I take hold of it. My eyes go wide when I peel open the paper and see the extraordinary satin and lace creation inside. 
    In awe I ask, “Did you really make this?”
    Her face alights with a blinding, golden smile, “I sure did,” she says excited by my obvious approval of her gift. “Your brother told me you loved lingerie and I’ve been sewing my whole life. I even have my own line of clothes. I don’t know if he told you,” she says pointing over at my lovesick brother.
    “Well anyway, I never made lingerie before and knowing I was going to meet you inspired this new pursuit. This isn’t the first piece, there are quite a few attempts gone bad on my sewing room floor, but this is the first one that came out right and I wanted you to have it.  I hope it fits.”
    In my hands is the most lovely camisole and panty set I think I’ve ever seen. The colors are soft, as if the thin, delicate fabric dictated them to be, and all I am capable of feeling in the moment is gratitude for her thoughtfulness. 
    My eyes are watering as I’m struck by the fact that this is the first time I’ve seen another woman, hell another person, other than Ashton, Connor or the pizza guy in well over a year. Before that there were a couple of times Ashton foolishly tried to sneak in one or two of his skanks late at night while in the midst of a drunken, horny stupor.  But, no worry, they