“You don’t even know what we’re playing.” I bump my shoulder up against him, then think better of it. Too bro like?
“Doesn’t matter. I’m a master of all things tabletop.” He gives me a soft shoulder bump back.
“We’ll see about that.” I hold the door open for Oliver as he steps into the building, shivering a bit at the sudden temperature change. “Whoa, this place is incredible.”
It is pretty nice. A bit nerdy, but in all the right ways. It’s not overly crowded tonight, a few couples and groups of four gathered quietly around tables. On weekends, the place can be rowdy, with plenty of large groups, often with a bit too much alcohol. Not the ideal environment for getting to know one another.
“I love it.” He grins at me, and I breathe a sigh of relief. A few minutes later, I have us checked in, and one of the employees leads us to a corner table in the back.
“You made reservations?” Oliver asks, cocking his head to one side.
“Yeah. You don’t always need them on weeknights, but it’s never a sure thing. I wanted to make sure we wouldn’t have any problems getting in.”
Something flashes on Oliver’s face, but I can’t place the emotion. He doesn’t look upset. Part of me looks forward to a day when I can read him better, figure out what he’s thinking and feeling without having to ask.
“I have a couple of choices here.” I spread out the boxes I’d requested across the table so we could choose.
“Absolutely no Monopoly,” Oliver shakes his head aggressively. “My siblings and I nearly killed each other over that game. Several times.”
I take it off the table and put it on the floor next to my foot. “Any preference?” I point between the two remaining boxes. One is a standard trivia-based game, entirely focused on pop culture from the ‘90s. The other is a ridiculous card game comprised of gnomes and lawn pests.
“You can pick,” he says. “I’ve never played either of them before.”
I moved the gnomes out of the way. “Trivia it is.” I’d rather not spend half the evening figuring out the rules of something new. “I’m going to wipe the floor with you.”
“Bring. It. On.”
It takes all of thirty minutes for us to realize that we’re both complete shit at this. Neither of us knows enough nineties pop culture references to be competitive. That doesn’t stop us from one-upping each other as much as possible, both of us giving our answers with unearned bravado.
“Captain Planet,” I shout before pulling back when I catch a few people at nearby tables staring. “It’s Captain Planet,” I say, my voice lower.
“Are you sure?” Oliver leans in close enough that I can smell the earthy scent of his cologne. It’s new, something I’ve nevernoticed before. Maybe it’s the beer, but it makes me a little dizzy thinking about him picking it out special for me tonight. “Think real hard before you answer.”
I refuse to let him beat me at this. “Yes, final answer.”
“Wrong.” Oliver slams the card down on the table and throws his head back in laughter.
“What? No. Give me that.” I reach for the card, but I’m too slow. Oliver swipes it back.
“Hey! No cheating.”
“It’s not cheating. I already answered. I want to see what it says.” I reach for it again, but Oliver holds it over his head as though I’m not a full three inches taller than him. “I’m right, aren’t I? It’s Captain Planet.”
Oliver smirks. “Fine, you’re right. But that one was far too easy.”
I snatch the card from him as he lowers his hand. He’s right, it was basically a gimme, but the game has been tied for a while, and I’m desperate for a win. “And that makes ten. I win.” I hold up the cards in my stack, showing off the ones I’ve gotten right. I probably got at least twice as many wrong, but that doesn’t matter right now.
“I demand a rematch.” Oliver crosses his arms over his chest and pouts. I love this side of him, the version that’s competitive and demanding.
“And I will happily grant you one, but not tonight.” Oliver’s face falls, and I briefly think about reconsidering, but it’s getting late, and we both have to work tomorrow. Plus, I’d love to have a few minutes alone with him. I’ve spent the last two hours watching his every movement, cataloging the various expressions on his face. Everything from confusion over questions to elation over getting one right, especially when he was clearly guessing.
We’ve spent months getting to know one another, but for the first time, I let myself really look at him. Something about it being a date gave me the permission I’d been looking for.
It’s only when I look at his face now that I realize what I just said. A rematch is a second date. Or some other number if this isn’t where we come next time. I haven’t let myself think beyond tonight. Not that I expected anything to go wrong, but I’ve rarely had this much fun on a first date. Usually, they’re at a stuffy restaurant where the chairs are too hard, and the music is some annoying crap.
Tonight didn’t have any of that. And some of that is because I picked this place, but it’s also in no small part because of how comfortable Oliver makes me feel.
I pay our final tab for the beers and burgers we ordered while we played, and I lead the way out to the car. My fingers brush up against his as we make our way down the sidewalk, and I think back to the promise I made myself on the way in. I could chicken out, and I’m the only one who would know. I suck in a deep breath, but before I can make a move, Oliver slides his fingers between mine. He looks over and raises his eyebrows at me, asking if it’s okay. I manage a nod, barely able to swallow, my throat is so tight.
