Conventionally Yours (True Colors 1)

The store had been warned that Gamer Grandpa wasn’t with us, and the owner, a short older dude who was Arthur’s exact opposite, greeted us with a fake-cheerful attitude that didn’t match his pointed questions.

“Are you still filming a vlog?” he asked with a frown after the introductions had been made. “We were counting on the exposure.”

“Yup.” Jasper held up the laptop bag, which also contained the camera. Alden and I each had our gaming bags, while I also carried some of Professor Tuttle’s signed books for the store.

After I gave him the books, I gestured at the busy space. “Why don’t you show us around?”

Like most stores, this one had the usual collection of goods for various fandoms, board games, and plenty of different trading card games. But this place also had a number of sidelines going that made the space even more cluttered—handmade jewelry, greeting cards, toys, and books.

“Dude. You carry romance novels.” Jasper sounded both horrified and impressed.

“They sell.” The owner gave a shrug of his bulky shoulders and continued to lead us back to the gaming area, which was pretty crowded for a Sunday evening. “Reserved you a table. And we’ve got a couple of people eager to play you.”

On the one hand, I was happy to not have to play Alden in front of a crowd while Jasper filmed—something we’d discussed in the car as a possibility. But on the other hand, playing a stranger was its own challenge. They paired me with the owner’s daughter, who was a few years older than me with long, straight brown hair that matched her somber expression.

“I like your T-shirt.” I gestured at her shirt, which had a Godzilla-like creature eating a guy and an “I eat stupid for breakfast” slogan. Her play mat featured the same hulking creature.

“Uh-huh.” She didn’t look up from shuffling her cards, and the rest of the match was more of the same, me trying to make small talk to get good footage for Jasper and her resisting all efforts to be social. Some players were just like that—intensely focused on the game—but I couldn’t help but worry that maybe her dad was forcing her to play for more publicity. I knew exactly how heavy parental pressure could get, and I tried to be sympathetic.

“Your dad get you into the game?” I asked.

“Uh-huh.” She took the rest of her turn, then lowered her voice. “You can lose the flirting. I don’t get with Odyssey players. Ever.”

Well. Okay then. I wasn’t about to tell her she had me all wrong. Knowing my fellow Odyssey players, she probably had good reason for the rule. And she wasn’t the first person who’d assumed that me being nice equaled flirting. But it did have the effect of getting me more focused on the game. After I won pretty easily, we cleared our stuff to make way for Alden, who was playing a younger guy with the energy of a squirrel and sharp, pinched facial features to match.

“Can’t believe I get to play on the show.” The kid bounced on the balls of his feet, making his cheap sneakers squeak on the linoleum floor. “I’ve seen every episode. Twice.”

“Awesome.” I gave him a smile because I liked his chances versus Alden, who deserved to be taken down a peg or six. Maybe the kid could succeed where my frog-soldier deck had not. “Good luck.”

“So, like, what’s the real deal with you guys?” He gestured between me and Alden, who made a strangled sound.

“What do you mean?” I asked cautiously. I didn’t think he was implying we were a couple, but I wanted to tread carefully, especially with Jasper nearby with a camera.

“Like are you really enemies? You hate his guts, right?” He leaned forward, thirst for gossip clear in his eyes. Suddenly, I was much less inclined to see him win. But his question gave me pause. Were we true enemies? Did I actually hate Alden, or was it more of an annoyance thing? I did want to see him lose, but I wasn’t sure that equated the sort of hate the kid seemed to be implying.

Before I could figure out an answer, the guy lowered his voice. “It’s okay. You can tell me. He’s annoying as fuck on camera. I’ll wax him for you.”

“Dude, he’s right here,” Jasper said before I could say anything. Alden looked away fast, probably coming off as dismissive to the others, but I caught the brief slip in his stoicism, face flattening like a clay sculpture getting squashed by a bully, hurt and misery radiating off him for a brief instant before he buttoned himself back up tight again.

“I hate everyone, not simply Conrad. Now, are we playing?” Alden’s voice was even more formal than normal, and the tension in his shoulders was clear. I couldn’t help but feel responsible, a feeling that lingered even after Alden beat the squirrel, a mere seven turns to victory—the sort of methodical dismembering that made him so damn scary-talented.