“Now you tell me.” Milo’s shoulders slumped further and he leaned on the counter. His eyebrows drew together as if he’d seriously expected a warning when we hadn’t exchanged more than ten words in years. “He seemed like an okay dude right up until he suckered me into betting the frog family cards—”
“The Royal Frog Court, ultra rare—”
“Yeah, yeah. I get it, okay? And I lost.” The pain was back in Milo’s voice, which legit cracked. Damn. The guy really was hurting, and if he were anyone else, I’d pat his shoulder or something. “He wouldn’t even play me to try to win them back. So now I’m screwed.”
“Yup.” I couldn’t argue with that assessment.
“You don’t have to sound so happy about it.” Milo pushed away from the counter, making the dice rattle in their boxes.
“I’m not.” Seeing anyone screwed over by George wasn’t my idea of fun, even if I didn’t exactly have warm and fuzzy feelings for Milo himself.
“I tried to think of who I knew who might be able to help me. And you’re the biggest gamer I know.” His eyes were soft and pleading, the same look that had always earned us extra cookies from his mom. “Are you sure you can’t help?”
“I’m sure. It’s not like we have those cards here, and I’m on duty right now. I can’t drop everything for a hunt for you.” The way I saw it, Milo was boned, with or without my help, and Google could convince him of that as well as I could.
“After work?” More of that pleading face, and snapshots from every sleepover, every birthday party, every playdate danced in my head. He’d been such a great kid right up until he wasn’t. And no way was I going to go down the path of trying to convince myself he’d changed back into the boy I used to know. We weren’t friends now, and I wasn’t particularly interested in changing that fact, opening myself up to that kind of pain.
“No.”
“Is it because of high school?”
I wasn’t going to lie. “Part of it. You think I’ve forgotten?”
“We’re older now. And I’m sorry. I guess we were kind of jerks to your crowd—”
“You think? Kind of?” I kept my voice down, but I couldn’t stop the sarcasm from seeping into my tone. I wasn’t going to start listing incidents like I kept an accounting of all the hurts he and his crowd had dished out to anyone who dared to be smart, nerdy, or anything other than a vapid clone in their popular jock clique, but I deserved more than some half apology.
“Okay, some shit went down. Like I said, I’m sorry. Are you sure you can’t help me? For old times’ sake?”
“F—” I was about to lay into Milo about how far “old times’ sake” had gotten me back when I could have actually used someone to defend me and all my geeky interests, but then my boss, Arthur, called my name as he came from the back of the store, and all I could do was shake my head. I was older now and I was my own damn hero. Maybe others didn’t always see me that way, but I’d grown way past “old times’ sake” sentiments.
“Jasper! Who has the private room booked?”
“It’s that dads-who-game club,” I told Arthur, trying to ignore the way Milo seemed to collapse further, despair rolling off him. He glanced at me again, and, apparently not liking what he saw there, he headed to the door, a slight limp to his steps. I had to stiffen my back muscles and plant my feet, trying not to feel anything as he walked away. Not curiosity about what had caused the limp and definitely not regret. I didn’t have time for either.
He paused to hold the door for some patrons, light catching his expression. His eyes had transformed from pleading to resigned, like a world-weary soldier returning from a battle he hadn’t won. His head was high even as his shoulders slumped, and he was perhaps more regal in defeat than he had been when he’d been so sure I’d agree. In that instant, he looked exactly like Prince Neptune. April would have freaked at the resemblance and would have begged him to cosplay with us. She always was a sucker for the story lines where Neptune faced losing odds and had to claw his way back from the edge of defeat. Maybe…
No. Not going to go there. Milo was no prince and certainly not anyone I needed in my life.
I was not going to be swayed by his worried eyes. Angry Milo and jerk Milo were easy to dismiss, but sad Milo had always managed to get under my skin. This time, though, I wasn’t going to let him. He’d managed to get himself into a heck of a mess, but he’d have to get himself out again without me. I turned my back on him, same as he’d done with me all those years ago. But even as I turned, my stomach cramped, the battle between the urge to shut him out and the urge to swoop in with the rescue way more real than I would have liked.