“Good game.” The woman spun her life counter down to zero, and I resisted the urge to fist pump. One down. As I cleaned up my stuff, I thought about digging my phone out, sending a quick text to someone like Professor Tuttle or Cassie, telling them that I got the win. But they weren’t who I really wanted to tell. Funny what a difference a week made. The last person I would have thought about before was the first one I wanted to know.
How’d your match go? I texted Alden. I beat a dragon deck. Watch out for the pink-shirted women—ruthless. Lunch later? I added a dragon-toppling-over GIF and hit Send.
His reply was gratifyingly fast. About to go again here. Won first one—digger deck. Tricky new card to watch for called Underworld Superstition. Yes, lunch. Must feed the Conrad! His GIF was one of a big dinosaur eating leaves.
Herbivore food? Too healthy for me ;) See you then, I replied, my soul lighter than I would have thought possible. Just having him to share this with made a huge difference, his little tips and texts powering me through two more games. I warned him about saving scrolls versus fire demons, and he reminded me to be patient with ogres. He made sure I had my inhaler in my bag, and I reminded him to drink water. Him caring about me like that, and having him to care about in return, felt good on a level I hadn’t had in years. Like wrapping up in warm towels from the dryer when I hadn’t even realized I was freezing.
And when I saw him again in person, across the crowded lobby area, it was as if my whole body lit up, every cell tuned in to his frequency. I liked everything about him—the way his hair fell across his forehead, the protective way he held his deck bag, and most especially, the way he went from solemn and somber, standing off by himself, to a slow, satisfied smile as he spotted me.
“Glad I’m not the one playing you. You’ve been kicking ass.” I shoved at his shoulder in lieu of the hug I desperately wanted to give him.
“I have.”
“And so humble about it.”
“Facts aren’t bragging.” He adjusted his bag so he could take my hand. It was the first time he’d initiated anything in public, and my heart revved like a Harley at a stoplight. I didn’t care who saw. This was my guy, and I wasn’t letting go, not until I had to.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Alden
“I’m not sure that I’m ideal pillow material,” I mused to Conrad as we finished up our lunch, which consisted of the typical overpriced convention food of lukewarm fries and bland burgers. All the available tables, chairs, and benches had been packed, but we’d found seats on the carpet in one of the less populated hallways leading to the food court. Somewhat out of foot traffic, but hardly private. However, after he finished eating, Conrad had stretched out, head in my lap, long legs sprawling, apparently not caring who saw him adopt me as his human pillow. He looked content enough to drift off, face slack, and my heart seemed to swell with each breath. He was right where I wanted him.
“I’ve got two nights now that say you are,” Conrad countered. And okay, maybe he wasn’t exactly where I wanted him, but as neither of us had time to race back to the room for a make-out session between rounds, this would have to do. “You’re way better than boring cotton and stuffing.”
“Gee, such a compliment.” Unable to resist, I let my fingers filter through his hair.
“Mmm. Think I could pay you to do that before my next match? Scalp massage as preround warm-up. It could be the next big thing.”
“Should I want to help you?” I laughed nervously. The tips we’d been trading were fun, but also made me feel weirdly wobbly inside.
“Plenty of players here work together like we’re doing.” As usual, he managed to read my mind. “The ‘Ready To Lose’ contingent even shares decks. And several pro players have more formal alliances, working together to try to dominate. There’s no rule against it. And it’s fun, right?”
“It is,” I admitted. His texts had been the highlight of my morning.
“For what it’s worth, it’s not simply because we’re sleeping together either.” He said that part so casually, even as my skin heated, with prickles of both awareness and embarrassment. “We’re friends now. I’d do the same with Jasper or Payton, just not with the fringe benefits.” He winked at me, making heat along with some softer emotion I still couldn’t name unfurl in my gut.
“What about Payton?”
At the sound of their familiar voice, I almost dumped Conrad onto the carpet, but he stayed put, shoulders digging into my thigh, apparently unconcerned about our rather obvious PDA.