I snap out of it and look up.
Prisha stares at me from across the cluttered table full of Monopoly money, hotels, and cards. The 1990s-era box to the game sits askew at the corner of the table, next to one bottle of wine we emptied, and another bottle I’m apparently working my way through.
Juan and Marissa sit on either side of me, tense and on the edges of their seats, awaiting my move.
“I, uh …” I pinch the bridge of my nose, the gesture of which nearly knocks over my wine glass, which I swiftly catch, then decide to down the rest of. Is a migraine coming on? Ugh, it’s nearly blinding. “Why is my top hat in jail?”
“You’re the boot. The top hat is Marissa,” states Prisha rather tersely.
Oh.
Clearly I’m not all here.
“Sorry. I … Wait, wasn’t she the wheelbarrow?”
“I didn’t like it, and everyone agreed I could be the top hat instead,” explains Marissa rather patiently, then shifts her eyes. “Even you.”
I don’t remember that at all. I reach around to grab the bottle and start refilling my glass. “Do I have enough money to buy a—ugh, my head—a hotel on my, uh—wait, which railroad do I own again?”
“None of them,” says Prisha.
“You don’t have enough money to buy anything,” says Juan.
“Oh.” I finish pouring, almost drop the bottle in setting it down, then take a healthy swig before asking: “Can I try—”
“Just roll the damned dice,” snaps Prisha.
I pick up the dice with my free hand and toss them at the table.
The dice miss and fall onto the floor.
“Fuck, sorry,” I mumble, dizzy, then crouch beneath the table to fetch them.
Prisha has instantly crouched down as well, and now I’m face-to-face with her under the table.
And she’s mad. “What in the hell is going on with you tonight?” she hisses. “You’re a drunken mess!”
“Sorry. I’m totally out of it, I know, my head’s not in the game. I have a killer migraine.”
“I’m not letting you use that migraine as an excuse. You gave yourself that migraine with all of this drinking. I was counting on you tonight, Rome, and—”
“I’m here.” I hiccup, blink away a sudden bout of blurriness, then squint at her in the dark. “I’m here. I’ll roll the dice.”
“You were barely there during charades when I needed you earlier. You practically threw that game. How are we supposed to last even a single game of Clue tonight?”
I stare at her in surprise. “We still have a game of Clue to play?”
She sighs with mounting agitation and sits back on her heels. “This is the only night we have to play until next week, since my parents are coming, and you’re ruining it.”
“Not in …” The room is spinning. “… in … intentionally, I swear …”
“Something’s up with you, Rome.”
I grimace, on all fours beneath the table with Prisha. Honestly, it isn’t even about the dice anymore. The darkness down here is exactly what my eyes (and my throbbing head) need. “Maybe I shouldn’t be around people tonight,” I blurt.
“What?”
“And maybe I also … can’t stand my own company.” I lower my face to the floor for some reason, resting a cheek on the dirty carpet. “I don’t know what I’m feeling. I have a lot on my mind lately. I just … I just … I just want to curl up under this table and … and disappear.”
Prisha’s brow creases. “Well, you don’t have my permission to do that yet.”
“I went on another date.”
She lifts her head in surprise, and it bumps the table. Rubbing a sore spot and glaring at me, she hisses, “Another date?? When did this happen and why didn’t I know?”
“Couple nights ago. It actually wasn’t a date. It was … a date to get a date.”
“Huh?”
“Danny took me out. He was sort of my wingman or something. We got drinks at a gay bar.”
“Danny? Who’s Danny?”
Oh, right. “The guy who works at Jimmy’s. I mean Jesse’s. Whatever it’s called.”
“Wait,” she stops me, lifting a hand. “You mean that cute Asian guy we always see at the front desk every time we go?”
Cute Asian guy … My heart races with undeserved happiness, hearing those words. Ugh, none of this feels right, not after the way we left things—not after that fucking kiss I shouldn’t have enjoyed. “Yes, that one. He has a tool of a boyfriend, but he sort of volunteered to help me find a date ‘in the real world’. He thinks dating apps are full of lies.”
“Well, I agree with him there,” mumbles Prisha.
“But it went totally wrong. All the guys were interested in him. I was ignored. Blah, blah. Then he and I got into this big fight, and I …” I slap a hand to my forehead and wipe away sweat that isn’t there. I can’t mention the kiss. Not yet.