Dating and Dragons (Dungeons and Drama, #2) (15)

Sanjiv looks up in surprise as we enter. “Did you two come together?”

“No,” I blurt out.

“We got here at the same time,” Logan explains.

“This is going to be an interesting campaign,” Sloane says, looking back and forth between us.

“Can you give us any hints about what you have coming up?” Mark asks Sloane. He’s already at his seat with a half-full two-liter of Mountain Dew next to him. “You’re not going to try killing off Rolo in the first session, are you?”

Sloane mimes zipping their lips. “It wouldn’t be a good session if you knew what was coming.”

“Well, whatever you have planned, it won’t work. My newest dice came in.” He holds them up for the group. “Completely clear acrylic this time. No bubbles.”

“Does that matter?” I ask while pulling out my manuals.

“Of course it does! My problem before was that my dice weren’t weighted evenly. But with these I know there’s no bias. I’m about to make my character name obsolete!”

I chuckle and pour out my favorite dice from their velvet bag. I have so many sets at this point that it’s hard to remember them all. I love to collect them—the way some people collect snow globes or shot glasses—and I always use a different set for each character I play. Though I have enough now that I can rotate between dice sets from one session to the next, as long as the dice match the vibes of my character. Given that Nasria, my character, is a dwarf, I’m going with dice made of precious gems. They weren’t cheap, but my amethyst dice are perfect for this game. I need good rolls this afternoon and I’m betting on these.

“Ooh, those are gorgeous,” Kashvi says, and picks one up to inspect it. “I always judge people by their dice.”

“I love yours as well.” Hers are blood-red with gold stamped numbers.

I’m trying to stay in the moment, but being back at the game table makes it impossible to keep away memories of my old gaming group. I met Paige in Spanish freshman year and we immediately became best friends. I’d never had a best friend before her. I’d had good friends, I’d been included in parties and group costumes for Halloween, but I’d never had someone I loved and trusted enough that I’d tell them everything. Paige knew every one of my insecurities, from the amount of freckles on my face to my sadness that Mom and Dad were always more excited about Andrew’s interests than they were about mine. I knew the details of Paige’s parents’ divorce and the fact that she’d gotten drunk with her cousins the summer before freshman year and told her parents it was food poisoning. We were inseparable, so when Caden asked Paige to play D&D, I joined too.

To Paige and Caden and the others, D&D was social time. Caden was our gaming clown—he’d do anything to make us laugh, doing crazy dances, eating nasty food, even mooning us (though I was quick to close my eyes for that). I’d never laughed as much as I laughed at D&D. Caden was also a huge flirt and constantly found ways to compliment me. He said he loved my long hair even when it was frizzy and unbrushed. He loved my jewelry and that I learned the D&D rules for my character and had opinions about the game. It was easy to be taken in by it. It was easy to flirt back because it felt like that was our pattern. He flirted, I flirted back, and we forgot about it as soon as we left the gaming table.

I’ve told myself over and over again to stop thinking about them. To stop wondering how they could have turned on me and what they say about me now. Do they have regrets? Does Paige ever think of me when she’s painting her nails or rewatching Stranger Things? My brain won’t let the memories go, and they’re as painful as ever. Losing Paige, especially, is a wound I can’t stop scratching long enough for it to heal.

“Quinn,” Sloane says.

I jerk upright. I must have looked like I was in a trance.

“I brought those hats with me if you want to go through and find one you like?” They hold up a large tote bag.

“Oh, you remembered!” I push away the memories and shoot up from my chair. A quick look shows that the hats are all basically the same shape, but Sloane has made them in enough cool color combinations that it’s going to be hard to decide.

“What’s this? You’re giving away hats?” Kashvi asks.

“I guess? I’ve got more than enough, so take whatever you want.”

“We should all wear one,” I reply. I pull out a black and red hat that matches Mark’s shirt. “Here, try it on.”

“Sweet.” He pulls it down over his low ponytail.

“What do you think? I’m partial to purple, but this red one is pretty cool,” Kashvi says, holding up two options.

“I say…” I look at Sloane for confirmation.

They nod. “Both.”

Kashvi beams. “Awesome!”

Sanjiv takes a black and gray one from the top, and I’m immediately drawn to one with various gradients of green. It’ll go with so many of my clothes. I search deeper in the bag, not wanting to miss any, and come across one toward the bottom of the sack. It’s a little misshapen and big enough that it won’t fit me, which is too bad because I love the gray blue Sloane’s chosen. Much to my chagrin, it reminds me of Logan’s eye color. I can already imagine how much cuter he’d be with this beanie pulled low over his forehead. I bite my lip, wondering if I should shove it back to the bottom, but this little hat deserves to serve its life purpose.