I doubted he’d want to live vicariously through six hours of shelving assorted pet-food products, but I nodded anyway. “And you? What trouble did you find?”
“Only the good kind.” Jasper pulled a deck box out of his bag and removed a stack of cards. “Opened some more packs, sifted through the single card bins, and ta-da! Boss-ass new deck. Every creature card in it transforms.”
“Formidable.” Before I could ask to see, Arthur came over. Dude was built like a wrestler, with tats, big arm muscles, rumors of a career in special forces cut short, and a deep voice that sent would-be shoplifters scurrying for safer targets. However, he also had a lot of respect for Professor Tuttle, as evidenced by the deferential nod he gave him.
“Sorry about the other group. They should be out soon. Got something in I thought you guys might like.” He held out his massive hand to reveal rainbow-striped unicorn card sleeves.
“I like.” Payton delicately plucked the pack out of his hand. “Ring me up when you get a chance.”
“Do you have any more?” Professor Tuttle stroked his chin. “Maybe those would finally convince Julio to play.”
“I’ll grab you a pack when I ring Payton up. But I doubt that husband of yours is going to become a regular here anytime soon.”
Professor Tuttle laughed, both because no way would his elegant husband go for the unicorns, and because his inability to catch onto the game was a running joke among us.
The store didn’t specialize in LGBTQ gaming or anything like that, but we also weren’t Arthur’s only group likely to have some rainbow-loving members. It was a big part of why I felt so secure here. Arthur might be scary as heck, but he ran a tight ship and didn’t put up with any offensive behavior. And while Professor Tuttle never shared anything personal beyond our first names on his show, he was a founding faculty adviser for the Safe Space Alliance on campus. I’d never admit it aloud, but I admired his forty-year partnership with his retired drama professor husband almost as much as I did his impressive grasp of the game.
They had the sort of relationship that ordinary people never achieved—like something out of a movie. I could envy it, but I also knew it was never happening for me. Hell, I wasn’t even sure I’d want that in my life. There were too many times when I’d seen how love screwed people over, that sort of commitment setting one up for near-inevitable hurt.
“So.” Professor Tuttle turned in my direction as Arthur left our table. “Who’s up for the road trip? We should start making plans.”
“I am,” I said at the exact same instant Alden did. My gaze locked on his, catching the moment when his eyes dimmed, his face seeming to collapse in on itself, disappointment clear in the way his shoulders sagged. Yeah, he’d heard me. And it was pretty darn obvious that he’d been hoping for me to not go, but now he was stuck. As was I. Damn it. I couldn’t change my mind now without looking like a giant tool.
Across from me, Alden’s expression returned to neutral even as his posture went stiff, like no way was he going to let us see him rattled. Arrogant. Stubborn. Perfectionist. Jerk. He was all those things. Was I really going to spend two weeks with that?
Even as I questioned my resolve, I could see myself winning the tournament, could sense the relief, could almost feel the crispness of the check. Yeah. I was going.
“You got off work?” Jasper asked me. “I had to call in a bunch of favors to make it happen for me. Arthur’s being more flexible than usual, but he wants us to take T-shirts advertising the store, like as a sponsor.”
“Yeah, I figured it out.” I managed to sound casual and not panicked. No one, Alden especially, needed to know that I was using my last cash to do this, the rent Maxine wouldn’t take along with whatever else I could scrape together. I was setting myself up for the gamble of a lifetime. If I failed, chances were high that I’d come back to no place to live, no steady job, no plan B. But I’d been there before, starting from scratch. It was simply a risk I had to take.
“Excellent. I’m so looking forward to this.” Professor Tuttle smiled even broader than the Gamer Grandpa logo on his shirt.
The private game room finally cleared, an obnoxious group of older adults dedicated to a popular kids’ card game filing out. As we got set up with the cameras, Alden sniffed the air.
“Did the other group have food? There are rules for a reason. Now it stinks of pepperoni in here.”
I looked away. With anyone else, I’d laugh and admit that the smell was undoubtedly me, still in the plain black T-shirt the pizza place asked us to wear, no time to shower and change before I’d had to hurry here. But, with him, all I could do was glare.