“Win!”
“Okay, I’m sorry! I just, I don’t think she’d be mean about this. When you put on the knight’s armour in Bo’s closet, she seemed kind of into it, actually.”
Caleb mutters something under his breath.
“Come again?”
He repeats himself, still not enunciating clearly.
I roll my eyes. “Dude, what?”
“I’m not a knight, okay? I’m the… I’m the bard.”
“Bard? Like a poet-musician guy?”
Caleb blinks, his eyebrows crawling up his forehead. “Yes, actually. I’m surprised you know that.”
“So what? You—you sing? Whatisthis game?”
“Sort of. I have magical powers that I harness with… song.”
I cover my mouth, but not in time.
“Win!”
“I’m sorry! It’s funny! Youhaveto hear how fucking funny that sounds.”
“See?Thisis why—”
“Yeah, okay! I understand.Iwon’t make fun of you. But Idohave to go meet the other guys now, okay? It’s bad enough that you’re keeping them waiting. They—they,” my laughter interrupts me, “they might need your magical singing powers.”
Caleb, resigned and exhausted, throws his arms up in the air and stomps down the hall. I follow shortly behind, already pulling out my phone to text Sarah.
ME: Come to Bo’s now! Caleb is here. Lying NERDS.
It’s not my besttext, but it’ll have to do, because I ran out of hallway between me and the group of guys in the dining room. Their conversation comes to an abrupt end when I walk in. Bo looks between Caleb and me, shaking his head and wearing a shit-eating grin.
“Hi, everyone,” I say, approaching the edge of the table cautiously, admiring the map laid out in the middle and the men around it.
Next to a sulking Caleb is an older gentleman who reminds me of a sturdy English bulldog in his stout posture, jowled face, and keenness in his expression. At the head of the table is Bo, who’s lining up game pieces with a concentrated expression, and to my left, across from Caleb and the older man, are three more guys.
The one closest to Bo has dark brown skin, a kind but apprehensive smile, short black hair, and a lean frame. The other two seem to be a couple—based on the proximity of their chairs and the hand the man closest to me has placed on the other man’s thigh. They’re both broad and muscular. One of them has golden tanned skin and long brown hair, and the other has a pale complexion and a clean-shaven head.
“I’m Win,” I say, raising my left hand to wave. “I won’t get in your way, but I just wanted to say—”
“Well, aren’t you stunning?” the older man says in a thick Scottish accent. He stands, wearing a beaming grin, then makes his way around the back of Caleb’s chair toward me. “Bo said you were, lass, but I dinna believe him.”
I giggle, putting out a hand to shake as he extends his own.
“I’m Hamish, but you can call—”
“All right, that’s enough,” Bo says, standing straighter and crossing his arms, towering over the table. “C’mon, man…” He chuckles breathlessly. “I distinctly remember telling you to be cool.”
The stout man presses his lips together in a cheeky, mischievous grin. “Sorry,” he says in anot-Scottish but entirely Canadian accent. “I like to test out my characters on new people. Did I have you fooled?”
“Totally,” I laugh out, my face briefly turning toward Bo with a bemused grin.
“Walter,” he says, reaching out for my hand, dragging my attention back to him.
