I’m outside as soon as he pulls into my driveway after school. My heart speeds at the sight of him.
“Hey,” I say as I climb into his car. I’m proud of how normal my voice sounds. “This is unexpected.”
“I know.” He backs out onto the road. “But I was thinking about it, and the game doesn’t feel legit without some miniatures. I think it’ll help us to be able to visualize the layout of the city.”
Mental note thatIneed to figure out the layout by Sunday.
“I was going to order some online,” he continues, “but I figured it was probably smart to include the DM in the process.”
“I appreciate that.”
I sneak a glance at him. Is that the only reason he invited me—so that he wouldn’t overstep in the game? Or was he looking for more ways to spend time alone with me too?
“So, what should we listen to on the drive?” He runs a hand through his hair, looking almost self-conscious. “I have some pretty great playlists. I even have some classics on them, which I know you’ll like.”
I take his phone and scroll through his Spotify. Okay, I’ll admit there are some nineties bands on there like Nirvana, Nine Inch Nails, and Stone Temple Pilots that I like. But there’s not a single female artist on any of the lists. I sigh and hand it back to him.
“I think we need to broaden your horizons. I’ve got the perfect playlist.” I have about two billion, but the one I’mthinking of is a little less angry than my usuals. More “Lovefool” from the Cardigans and less “You Oughta Know” from Alanis Morissette.
I’m expecting to get some side-eye from him when the first song starts playing, but instead he smiles lightly and relaxes against the headrest. We listen quietly to a few songs before Max sits up abruptly.
“Nowwe’re talking.” He leans forward to turn up the volume. “You know I love a good drum opening.”
“This is one of my favorites.”
It’s a cover of “I Want You to Want Me” from Letters to Cleo, one of my favorite nineties bands. They played this song on the rooftop at the end of10 Things I Hate About You,and it was absolutely perfect. I can’t help singing along, and it seems Max is incapable of listening to music without using the steering wheel as a makeshift drum. Soon we’re laughing and bopping along as we zoom past cornfields.
“See, this is what happens when you listen to more female lead singers,” I tease him.
“Fine, fine, you’ve made your point,” he concedes. “But I’m not giving up Nine Inch Nails.”
Eventually we switch from music to listening toDon’t Split the Partyso that we can be properly inspired before we get to the store. We make it to Scottsville and Max pulls into a parking lot that’s seen better days. The game store, Sword and Board Games, is in a neglected shopping center next to a pizza shop, a nail salon, and an off-brand dollar store. It’s not exactly inviting.
I give Max a dubious look. “Are you sure about this?”
“I’ve heard good things. We should at least check it out.”
We’re a few steps from the door when two teenage girls walk out. The South Asian girl is wearing purple d20 earrings I wouldn’t mind owning, while the white girl next to her is decked out in a green paisley maxi skirt and tank top with a ton of long beaded necklaces. They’re laughing and talking quietly to each other, completely oblivious to us. I’m honestly surprised to see other girls my age here. I haven’t been to a lot of game stores, but when my parents have taken me in the past, I’ve always felt a little out of place.
“—tell Logan how much jewelry they bought from us,” the necklace girl says to her friend as they walk past.
“I know, I can’t believe it, Quinn!”
I do a double take and look over my shoulder at their backs. That’s…weird. Weren’t some of the livestream players named Logan and Quinn?
Max pauses at the door. “Ready?”
I shake my head so I can focus and turn my attention back to him. The interior is way cozier than I’m expecting. Large wooden shelves fill most of the space, with a long checkout counter along the left-hand side. Behind it is a man wearing a Monty Python shirt. In the far back, I can see a door to another room. There’s quiet chatter and laughter coming from there that makes the store feel welcoming.
We aren’t in a huge hurry since we both told our parents not to expect us home for dinner, so we slowly meander through each aisle. When I turn the corner, I laugh and look over my shoulder.
“Uh-oh. You might not want to come over here unless you’d like to be reminded of your epic loss.”
This aisle is dedicated to board games, and many of theshelves closest to me are filled with various versions of Settlers of Catan.
Max comes to my side and examines the shelves. “You did not win that game.”
“Keep telling yourself that. I schooled you constantly at board games.”
