“Eugene.” Jasper gave him a high five and a big smile. “You playing or watching?”
“Playing! Always! This the new boyfriend? I heard about Rafe, man. Getting dumped sucks!” Even Eugene’s style of commiseration was upbeat. And what was this? Boyfriend? I didn’t have time to be rattled by the wrong assumption because I was too busy realizing yet again that Jasper had had this whole life at college that I knew nothing about. Hobbies. Majors. Future plans. And friends. Boyfriends. Undoubtedly, wanting to deck this Rafe on principle was not the right reaction, but I couldn’t stop the sudden, swift surge of jealousy.
Next to me, Jasper sputtered. “Uh. No. Not boyfriend. This is Milo. We went to high school together. He’s a newbie to the game.”
“Hey.” It didn’t escape my notice that I was Milo-from-high-school and not a friend. Not that I’d expected more, but still. I’d figured after our talk in the car that maybe we were working back toward something again. Clearly, we still had a way to go.
“Newbie, huh?” Eugene sized me up, grin broadening further. “Hit me up in the casual area later! I always try to throw the noobs some tips between real matches. I’ll be gentle.”
My skin heated at the joke, and Jasper was also turning all sorts of shades of pink. I’d been around locker rooms enough not to be fazed by a mild crack or two, but my brain was still spinning around the whole boyfriend concept. My real worry was that Eugene was able to tell the direction of my thoughts, but right then two girls came up and stole Eugene away in a flurry of laughter and perfume. Dude had an entourage. I smiled as they walked away, but Jasper scowled.
“Sorry about that. Eugene’s chatty, but he’s harmless. Should have warned you that I brought Rafe last year.”
Strangely, I wasn’t anywhere near as horrified as Jasper apparently thought I was. If anything, I was still struggling with this weird attack of jealousy—mad at Eugene for knowing so much about Jasper’s life and angry at this Rafe I’d never met because he’d had Jasper in a way I never would.
“It’s okay.” I kept my tone even, trying not to let on that my thoughts kept flitting over the fact that this Rafe undoubtedly knew what Jasper tasted like. Sounded like. Felt like. I shook my head, trying to get a grip. “You…uh…seeing anyone right now? That Conrad you mentioned? I just realized that I kinda hijacked your weekend.”
“You did. I had to trade away shifts at the game store.” Jasper’s mouth twisted exactly like my gut at the reminder of what an imposition I was being. “But no. Not seeing anyone. Conrad is blissfully happy with another friend.”
My surge of relief was almost comical. Yet something about Jasper’s tone made me think maybe I wasn’t the only one with jealousy issues.
“And that’s bad?”
“It’s—”
“Next!”
I didn’t get a chance to find out Jasper’s reply because we’d finally reached the front of the line, and Jasper had to show his ID, get a lanyard with a badge, and move down the line to a security-type woman in an event T-shirt and gloves who inspected Jasper’s decks like they might be laced with actual explosives. I received a different-colored badge since I was simply watching. Finally, after all that, we entered the event space, which was full of rows of folding tables and chairs in the center of the big ballroom and a few vendor booths in the adjacent room.
The room buzzed with a flurry of activity and eager gamers ready to beat each other to a metaphorical pulp. Reminded me of game days for soccer tournaments, everyone all ready to get started. There were rows of tables, not playing fields, and way more colorful hair and nerd humor T-shirts, but the competitive spirit was similar. Later, they’d be dragging from a long day, but this early energy was contagious.
Two weeks ago, I would have laughed at the idea of finding card shuffling sexy, but watching Jasper get set for his first match made this weird mix of pride and awareness gather in my insides, mingling with that energy to bounce on my feet the way Jasper was always doing. He was simply so quietly competent at what he did, arranging his space and cards with practiced fingers. As kids, Jasper had always been the messiest kid in his family, far less ordered than I who had enjoyed sorting his Legos into little bins—but as a gamer, Jasper was methodical, everything evenly spaced and squared with the table. His play mat featured the same Frog Wizard he’d cosplayed as.
“It’s possible your outfit is fancier than the actual one.” I pointed at the picture. “But good job matching the colors and stuff.”
“Thanks. I tried. He probably wears it better, but it’s fun.”