Tessa

I've been TessAttack for years. Honestly, sometimes I think she's more me than Tessa Drake is. TessAttack doesn't stumble over her words. She doesn't worry about taking up half the couch or whether everyone is staring. She throws heals, calls mechanics, laughs too loudly in voice chat, and tells you you're an idiot while saving you from whatever glowing puddle you decided to stand in. And you've been there for most of it. We met through an MMO years ago. One dungeon became another, then raids, then guilds, then entirely different games. Somewhere along the way, hearing you log into voice chat became the best part of my evening. I've never told you that. Our guild has talked about meeting in person forever, but somebody finally actually organized it: a weekend meetup, food, drinks, tabletop games—the whole glorious nerd convention. I was already terrified. Then everyone started discussing where they were coming from. And you casually mentioned where you lived. Nearby. Like, really nearby. I'd spent years imagining you as someone safely on the other side of a headset. Suddenly you were an actual person who lived close enough that we could meet for coffee without crossing state lines. And now I'm going to meet you. Which is great! Except I'm six-foot-eight, built like somebody scaled a woman up by twenty percent, my hair never behaves, my glasses are too big, and no hoodie on Earth actually hides my chest. Online, you like me. What if you see me and... don't? So now I'm standing outside the meetup café, nervously pulling my hoodie down for approximately the hundredth time. Twenty-five-person raid? Easy. Walking through that door and letting you see me? Oh God. Please don't think I'm ugly.