Riley had always told Cheyenne, in her moments of internal struggle and self-doubt, that there were two kinds of players in every... meetup?
"No, Cheye honey, they're called lobbies."
Er... right. There are two kinds of players in every lobby.
The first kind of player liked to charge in head-first. They were playing by themselves first and foremost, and they'd joined up with a team because of the benefits of doing so. They took charge, they called plays, and people looked up to them. Even if it wasn't the smartest thing to do, those types of players were confident in their decisions. Something called a Leeroy Jenkins. Cheye honestly didn't get the reference.
Anyway, the second type of players never got anything like that. They were the ones that stayed in the background. The ones making plays and mingling with everyone else in the group before they made a decision. They played in a team because they needed to play in a team, otherwise they'd get their butts whooped. They banded together because being together made them feel strong. Stronger, together.
Riley was always adamant that there was no wrong way to play an MMO or a mobile game or whatever. But despite how Cheyenne would have definitely liked to see herself as the first type of person (you know, outside of gaming, which she never really got to do a lot of) Cheyenne had always known herself to be the latter. Which was, you know, normally okay. Because her friends were also kind of like that...
Well, except for Brooke...
"Ugh, I hate that bitch." Riley rolled her eyes, not looking up from her Switch, "Why are you still even friends with her?"
For as long as Cheyenne could remember, she had been someone who needed friendships. The close, tightly-knit trifecta of their defacto Brains of the Operation Avery, the deliberate and sincere Brooke, and Cheyenne... well... bringing up the rear... had always satisfied that need well enough. But occasionally (like when her friends were being unsupportive cunts) Cheyenne had found herself running to her good friend Riley; but even she wasn't exactly perfect for these kinds of talks...
"Seriously, all she does is weigh you down." Riley said through a mouthful of 5-Layer Burrito, "You fould moof in wiff me 'n Astrid."
Riley gulped.
"Ahh..." a little smack of her lips as the round ended and she went back to idling, "Anyway, yeah, fuck her. Move in with us. We've got plenty of room."
Cheyenne had met Riley during the brief stint where she was working with Avery at Gordge. Both of them had gone in through the intern plan and Riley was ultimately the one that was chosen to be hired on full-time in the IT department. It hadn't soured their friendship though. If anything, it had made things a lot easier not working together. Riley had never been really good about getting things done on time, but once she and Stephanie broke up, she was absolutely abysmal to share a workload with...
And yet, they'd still picked her over dumpy, frumpy Cheyenne.
Oh well. Water under the bridge. And it was clear that Riley was dealing with her own crucible—she hadn't so much as moved once they'd gotten sat down for the evening.
"Come on, don't be like that." Cheyenne frowned into her third Mexican Pizza, "She's a bitch, but... I mean, she's not horrible."
"She's not your boss." Riley snarfed, tossing her switch aside to reveal her plush, spreading pot belly, "You want me to get you a soda?"
"...diet soda?"
"Oh my fucking God."
Whether it was Cheyenne's eating habits rubbing off on her, her new roommate's penchant for baking, or just Riley getting comfortable in a post-breakup time of her life, the IT desk jockey was getting a subtle spread of office ass these days. She'd always been an avid gamer, but she was a far cry from the skinny little twig that Cheyenne used to stare at enviously over whenever the boys around the office would pay her special attention...
"Fine, just... gimme a beer or something." Cheyenne said with a pout, "And as long as you're getting up."
Not that she felt like she could get up. She'd been stuffing her face ever since she left. On the way over she'd stopped for some Popeye's, and that was after she told Riley what she wanted to DoorDash. All of Cheyenne's emotions just demanded food, and the knowledge that her friends didn't really support her in her weight loss goals was really sending her up the walls lately.
She would support them if they wanted to lose weight.
Why couldn't they do the same for her?
"Oof!"
Cheyenne was ripped out her internal monologue by Riley cold-canning her with a tossed Blue Moon. The jolt was enough to make the couch creak beneath poor Cheyenne, who literally had to stop and make sure that her jostling around wasn't going to break the damn thing...
"Ah, don't worry about that." Riley waved dismissively as she plopped down next to her with her blimp-bootied bestie and a can for herself, "Astrid and I sat on it weird one night and it started doing that. If it breaks, it won't be because you did anything. Trust me, I'm on that thing enough to know."
"Thanks, I'll try not to think about how my ass is so fucking huge it can literally break couches."
"Ugh, stop being a baby." Riley rolled her eyes, her tummy squishing into two chunky rolls as she leaned forward and got comfortable, "Hey, Astrid's gonna bring some Weed Cookies. You wanna maybe stick around and have some?"
Ugh. Cookies was the last thing that she needed... but in Cheyenne's hungry, overly-associated mind, any kind of cookie sounded good right about now. Besides, she was way too fat to be seriously affected by anything small like that...
"It'll make you feel better..." Riley nudged her friend in her speedbag bicep, "Come ooooooon. Get high with us."
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