A week ago, I would have judged them negatively for breaking the rules to hookup on the sly. But now, all they made me was wistful. They didn’t care about anything except each other. I’d probably always be focused on rules, but Conrad had taught me to look beyond rules. To have fun. And now that was all I wanted for him. I wanted him to come back, have fun playing, remind everyone, myself included, why we’d gotten into this silly game in the first place. It wasn’t always about the winning, the point totals and online rankings, collecting the expensive decks, or coming up with superhard strategies.
Once it had been fun. And he’d given me that back. So yeah, even after all that had happened, I still couldn’t regret losing the match. Losing to him had been more fun than winning ever was.
The couple kept whispering goodbye to each other, kissing again, laughing softly, and starting the goodbye cycle again.
“Don’t forget about me,” the blond in the T-shirt said.
“As if I could,” the other replied. “Text me.”
“As if I could resist.” More laughing. More kissing. They simply couldn’t seem to let go of—
Oh. Maybe I was letting Conrad go too easily. Doing it again, assuming that what I could offer wouldn’t be enough, wouldn’t stack up against others. By not chasing after him, I was protecting myself from more rejection, but I was also shutting out the possibility of getting through to him.
Be brave. Mimi’s voice echoed back to me from my past, her trying to coax me into relaxing enough to be able to fly. Funny how a few weeks ago flying had been the scariest thing in the world to me, but now it was losing Conrad, the possibility of never getting to kiss him or tell him how I felt again.
Resolved, I stood up, startling the women who gasped before racing away, holding hands still and laughing. I hadn’t always been brave in my life, but I was going to try here, push past my fears.
Buzz. My phone vibrated in my hand with a message. I’m coming. I’m sorry and I’m coming. Going to play my game.
Relief coursed through me, quickly followed by confusion. The message was rather cryptic. Did he mean he was sorry we’d fought? Sorry he’d run away? Sorry he couldn’t feel the same way I did? The possibilities were almost enough to make my stomach rebel. But he was coming.
And I was going to meet him halfway.
I sped up, wanting to catch him before he checked in for the round. Spotting him cutting through the maze of vendors, I intercepted him by a large display of Odyssey backpacks and stuffed animals.
“Alden!” His eyes went wide as he skidded to a stop in front of me. Biting his lip, he gave me a searching look. “I messaged you.”
“I saw.”
“Will final competitors please check in at the judging table?” The PA system bleated.
“Crap.” Conrad’s eyes darted between me and the entrance to the tournament space.
“Go,” I ordered him.
“But I need to tell you—”
“Go. Talk later. Win now.” No way was I letting him miss his chance. We could sort out everything else afterward—or at least I hoped we could. Not knowing what it was he wanted to say was already making me want to jump out of my skin. But even if it was going to be a let-you-down-easy-Alden sort of conversation, I wanted to have it knowing he’d given his dream his best shot.
“Okay.” He turned on his heel, but I stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“Play your game, your way,” I said in a rush, knowing time was of the essence. “Have fun. Don’t overthink it, okay?”
“Okay.” He nodded at me. “Find me after. If I don’t win—”
“You will.” I tried to believe enough for both of us. “And if you don’t, we’ll deal. Promise.”
The we part was more hopeful thinking, especially since I had no clue whether there was even an us anymore, but I wanted him to know that he had me, win or lose. As he hurried away, I made my way to the crowd of people gathered around the displays that would broadcast the final round.
“Here we go.” Payton strode toward me. They were wearing a baggy black sweatshirt with one of the Odyssey angels on the front, looking fierce in contrast to Payton’s messy hair and hangover shades. “Saw you run after Con.”
“So?” I refused to be embarrassed. Near us, a group of kids were playing a round of the game, oblivious to the commentators droning on the monitors.
“Are you going to keep chasing after him if he loses?”
“Of course.” I bristled. “I’m not…with him just because he’s good at the game.”
“And if he wins?”
My stomach flopped. These were the questions I didn’t want to think about, not yet. Not with everything still so unsettled. “We’ll deal.”