“It won’t work, Max. We can’t get along for more than two seconds.”
He looks back at his percussion group as if he’s debating something and opens his mouth. Then he closes it and takes a breath instead. “One.” Another breath. “Two. There, that was two seconds. Probably even three.”
“I…” I blink in surprise. “Are you saying you want to be part of the group?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I’ve never played a tabletop role-playing game before. Although, what are the chances I could get you to run The One Ring instead?”
I throw my hands in the air. Three seconds into this conversation and he’s already trying to convince me to change the game I’m running. “No, we’re not switching to a Lord of the Rings–themed game just because you might be joining.”
“Fine, fine. I like the sound of your game too.”
“Good…well…” Honestly, I don’t know what else to say.
Someone calls Max’s name, and he looks back over his shoulder.
“I’ll give you an answer on Sunday, okay?” he says.
I guess that means he’s coming over again.
“Yeah. Okay.”
He heads back to his friends, but I stay there, still trying to wrap my head around what just happened.
Chapter Twelve
I wish I could say I’m totally nonchalant over the weekend, listening to my nineties singer-songwriters, playing with my calligraphy pens, and living my best life. But, in truth, I can’t relax knowing Max will be here at the house. I keep going over it in my head, and I can’t figure out a way for our possible D&D game to be successful. In D&D, the players need to feel free to be silly and vulnerable and to make mistakes without being scared that they’ll be laughed at.Ineed to have that flexibility. I was already psyching myself out about DMing even before we threw Max into the mix. So, I’ve decided the game is off the table (somewhat literally) unless he can convince me that I can trust him. And he’s not up to that challenge.
I take my time coming downstairs after hearing Melanie and Max arrive. His mom’s high-pitched voice is very recognizable, but I’m not going to rush around my own house for him. It’s a good five minutes before I finally saunter down.
Max is standing in our living room, looking at the “marching band altar” he’d noticed last Sunday. He’s wearing tight black jeans and a black Nirvana shirt that hangs on him perfectly. His hair is wet and curling into waves that fall over his forehead and into his eyes. Everything about him screams “drummer,” and unfortunately the whole lookreallyworks on me.
He glances at me. “I see you’ve decided to grace me with your presence. I’m honored.”
I open my mouth, then immediately change my mind. Nope. Not today. I don’t care how good this boy looks, I’m not dealing with his attitude. I turn back around and head for my room.
“Wait, hold on,” he calls. “You can’t go, we have stuff to talk about.”
“No, we don’t,” I retort. “The idea of us sitting around a table for hours every week, talking and joking and throwing out ideas is laughable. You can’t stand me, and I don’t want to open myself up to any more insultsorput Nova and Li in the extremely awkward position of being our mediators. The discussion’s over.”
His jaw drops open. “You can’t just decide that.”
“I’m the DM and it’s decided.”
“Just because things aren’t working out perfectly for you doesn’t mean—”
“When do things work out perfectly for me?”
He gestures around the house. “Uh, always?”
“Max, don’t pretend like you know me or my lifeat all.” I take a step closer and jab him in the chest with my indexfinger. “You waltz back into town and into my house as if you know everything, and I’m over it. How could you ever expect me to include you in this game when you can’t even talk to me like I’m a human being?”
He wraps his hand around my finger and tugs slightly so it’s pressing harder into his chest. “Then let’s talk,” he whispers. “What do you want to know?”
My pulse leaps. “Everything.”
“You want to know everything?” His chest rises and falls. “Then why don’t you start by asking me something specific?”
This is a game. It has to be. Some sort of competition I don’t understand, because why else would he be watching me so intently now? Why else would he be touching me? I want to wrench away from him and call him names and leave him standing here alone, but somehow I think that would mean I’d lost.
