“Oops. Sorry.”
“No worries.” I accepted the food from him and unwrapped my sandwich, which smelled as good as it looked.
“Food okay? You can trade with me if you want. I got meatball.” Milo held out his own sandwich. Cute. He was cute in all senses of the word, and my stomach wobbled. Danger. Danger.
“I’m good.”
“So you keep saying,” he teased. Our gazes met, and his little grin made me want to pretend just for a second that he was here for me, that he was my guy, and that he actually cared about warming me up. He leaned forward. “Tell me about your morning?”
“Not bad. My transforming deck is getting a workout.” I had a couple of competitive decks, but the transforming deck was my standby, and its tricky mechanic was working well against some pricier decks.
“Yeah, it is. You sure that you’re not going for a top-eight finish?” Eugene asked right as his friends arrived with food of their own. He ended up with a girl on either side of him and some sort of fancy salad to eat.
“Nah. I mean, it would be nice, but I’m not all that.”
“You’re too humble,” Milo insisted, bumping shoulders with me. “I saw you win a number of rounds. Lots of points?”
Points. Yeah. His cards. Why we were there. Sigh. “Some.”
Truth was that I was a bit behind where I wanted to be, and I needed to rack up some more wins before someone else claimed the cards from the prize wall.
“You can do it.” Milo’s faith in me was both humbling and irritating because I wasn’t sure what would happen if I failed. Would he want out of the bargain? Would I even see him again? I hated the uncertainty but hated myself more for caring so much.
We passed the rest of the meal break with more small talk with Eugene, who had all the latest gossip on our other gamer friends. Milo mainly let the conversation swirl around him, but he wasn’t sullen about it. More like he was content to listen, and I liked his quiet presence far more than I should. If I could get past the whole jerk-from-high-school thing, I had to admit he’d probably make someone a good boyfriend. Not me, obviously. But someone.
“Hey. What about you? You have someone?” I asked as Milo walked me back into the main gaming space.
“Someone what?” Milo scrunched up his face, thinking far too hard for a guy who probably had a flock of girls following him, same as Eugene.
“You asked earlier if I had a boyfriend. And I realized that I’m not the only one giving up my weekend. You have a girlfriend who’s going to care about your new toga-wearing hobby?”
“No.” The tips of Milo’s ears went pink. “No girlfriend.”
“Back at college?” I pressed, way too interested in finding out who Milo had been the last few years.
Shrugging, he pursed his mouth. “Not really. I had friends, but nothing like that.”
I read between the lines to see a string of hookups. “Ah. A player. Should have guessed.”
“I wouldn’t say that—”
“Jasper! I get to play you again.” Naomi, a fellow cosplayer who loved dressing as a reaper bride, greeted me. Her stuff was already set up, and I had to scramble to get my mat and cards out. No time to dwell on Milo’s denial. And it wasn’t my business what he had or had not been doing at college.
What mattered now was winning him the cards he needed. Not for the first time that day I wished I’d been able to finish that road trip last summer and play in the big national tournament. That would have honed my skills more for regional competitions like these. As it was, Naomi was a skilled player, one who had beaten me in both casual and competitive play before, and she demanded my full attention. Still, though, I was all too aware of Milo hovering nearby. At one point in the game I glanced over, and he gave me this encouraging smile that made my heart do a most unwelcome flip.
I messed up an attack step, and Naomi went in for the kill. I narrowly managed to block the lethal blow. I couldn’t afford another loss. By my calculations, I needed this match and one more. No more looking in Milo’s direction. Head in the game in more than one way. I had a mission and I couldn’t afford any more mistakes.
Chapter Twelve
Milo
I wanted Jasper to win, but not only for the reasons he thought. Rather, I wanted him to win because I liked the way he smiled when he won, liked the looseness in his step, liked the way he’d joke with me in between matches. Every win made me buoyant, riding high on his good mood. I hadn’t forgotten about him needing points for the prize card, but I was having fun simply hanging out at the tournament, meeting his friends, watching him play. I liked seeing the hustle and bustle of the tournament, but also liked the way Jasper reigned over it, gamer royalty almost.