“They’ll make it out to be a whole big misunderstanding or, worse, get us in trouble. Gamer Grandpa doesn’t need bad publicity like us getting arrested. We’ll just play them for our stuff. Faster. Easier.”
“We don’t exactly make a great team.”
“Hey now.” I was legit wounded at that. I thought we’d been making a pretty great team traveling together, except maybe the part where I couldn’t seem to keep my lips to myself.
“I mean in the game.”
“No time like the present to try.” I clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on. You beat him fair and square. You know that. Just got to do it again.”
He looked utterly miserable at that prospect, mouth drooping as he lowered his voice further. “You coughed.”
“I what?” My face wrinkled as I tried to figure that one out.
“Coughed. You coughed. Then I went in by air.”
“You think I was sending you signals?” I matched his barest hint of a whisper. “Dude. No. It was a cough. You won. Fairly. Just play your game, and don’t let him in your head.”
“Fine.” He marched back over to the table as if he were being led to the gallows. And not letting Bart and Danny in our heads was easier said than done. I’d played slick underworld decks like his before, and I had just the deck to counter it—a mining deck that would let me get value out of the stuff he destroyed. All I needed was Alden to trust me, and from the stiff way he held himself, I could tell that was going to be an uphill battle.
“Listen.” I leaned in so I could whisper in his ear, not caring one bit what these homophobic goons thought of it. “You need to go big, every time, and let me bat cleanup.”
“Go big or go home is hardly a strategy—”
“Trust me, Alden. Just once. Please.” His usual complex strategy of needing the perfect board state wasn’t likely to win here, but if he played enough big stuff that then got destroyed, my little landfill miners, a pair of vulture gnomes, could net us the game. Whenever Alden played teams before on the show, he’d always insisted on going second. A lot of players thought that was the stronger position in a team, and I could tell it was chafing him to have to concede that role to me. If we weren’t among idiots, I’d offer more kissing to sweeten the deal. Not that it would be a hardship, but I wasn’t above trying to bribe him into trying things my way. Assuming, that was, that he’d even find the prospect of another lip-lock a compelling reason to agree.
I’d spent the last few hours alternating between elation at having kissed Alden and anger for letting myself go there. I was still convinced Alden deserved better, but at the same time I couldn’t fully regret the kiss. It had been sweet, almost painfully so, waking up tender places deep in my chest, and I wanted more, so much more. But right then, I had dudes to crush before I could let myself replay the kiss for the thousandth time.
He studied me carefully for a long moment. Whatever he saw in my eyes must have reassured him somehow, because he nodded sharply. “Okay.”
The early part of the game was an ass-kicking—and not by us. My initial hand had sucked, and Alden was playing very conservatively, which made it hard to keep up. Danny played like a more reckless version of Bart—more card thievery, more scroll destruction, and double the sneer while doing it. I could feel the tension rolling off Alden, and not being able to touch him to reassure him or to give too much of the plan away was killing me.
But then finally Alden put out a valuable card—a scroll vault that could let us play bigger creatures—and Bart promptly destroyed it. But I had been waiting for this sort of move and played a mining card that gave us a life advantage while zapping them for the card’s value. Alden’s eyes went wide with recognition. Thank God. He’d finally caught on to my strategy, and from there we became a unstoppable duo, him playing his biggest cards, no holding back, and me using Bart’s blocking to hurt him and Danny until we were a turn away from victory.
Alden cast his eyes at me, a question there about whether to go for it, and I nodded subtly, hoping like heck that I wouldn’t lead him wrong. Finally, he went in for lethal damage, and Bart tried to use a reaper to send the damage back at us, but I was there with a shield—a cheap, older card that worked surprisingly well against reapers.
“Game.” Danny groaned. “Damn. You guys are—”
“Cheats.” Bart’s mouth was a hard, scornful line. “You probably have some system in place.”