Dating and Dragons (Dungeons and Drama, #2) (35)

“Who would you bring?” Andrew asks.

“Kashvi Anand.”

His eyes light up. “Oh yeah, never mind, you should definitely bring her.”

“How do you know Kashvi?”

“She helps out Mrs. Carmichael in my bio lab, like as an assistant. I guess she’s really smart.” He shrugs. “She’s cool. I’m surprised she’s friends with you.”

If my parents weren’t here, I’d dump the rest of my food on his head.

“She is cool. And guess what else she is? Part of my livestream D&D group.” I raise my eyebrows. “Now what do you have to say?”

“Nothing. I never said D&D was dumb. Just that you are.”

“Andrew,” Mom says with a sigh.

“I won’t ask her to come if you’re going to be a jerk.”

“But then you won’t get to hang out with her either.” He grins, knowing he has me. “Or maybe I’ll just ask her to come myself.”

Ugh, I can’t believe my gross little brother has a thing for Kashvi.

I bite my lip, debating. I want to refuse to bring her just to annoy Andrew, but I also don’t want to punish myself. This soccer game will be infinitely more fun with her there.

“Fine, I’ll ask her.” I point at him. “But stay far away from us. We haven’t been friends for long, and she’ll lose all respect for me if she knows we’re related.”





Chapter Fourteen





“I’m not sure I’ve ever watched an indoor soccer game,” Kashvi says as we shuffle along the narrow metal bleachers that line one wall of the indoor sports complex where Andrew is playing. Since it’s the last week of February in Ohio, it’s way too cold to play outside. This place is huge and there aren’t many spectators other than parents.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” I whisper. “I would be miserable without you.”

We all sit down, and Dad leans forward to talk to Kashvi and me. “Isn’t this fun!”

We nod politely, although nothing has happened yet that would make it fun. “Thanks for letting me tag along tonight,” Kashvi says.

“Of course,” Mom replies. “We’re thrilled that both of our kids are making friends here. We really appreciate you taking Quinn into your group.”

Her wording is mildly insulting, like I’m some tragic case that needs rescuing, but Mom isn’t entirely wrong. If Kashvi hadn’t invited me to their game when we first met, I don’t know what I’d be doing right now.

“Which number is your brother?” Kashvi asks.

“No idea,” I whisper. “But they’re wearing green jerseys. Just cheer when that team scores and we should be covered.”

A moment later Dad stands and bellows, “Let’s go, Andrew!” like this is the World Cup instead of a sparsely attended match in the Midwest.

Andrew swivels and waves warily at Dad. I see he’s number 11—good to know, I guess. He spots Kashvi and his whole body perks up a bit as he waves more enthusiastically.

Her eyes widen and she looks over her shoulder like he’s waving at someone else. When she realizes he isn’t, she waves back hesitantly.

“Well, I guess we know which number he’s wearing now,” she says.

The game begins and we spend the first half dutifully cheering on Andrew and chatting with my parents. They seem determined to include Kashvi as much as possible, which means asking her a thousand questions. It’s embarrassing, but I also learn things about her parents and family that I never thought to ask before.

Andrew’s team scores another goal and Kashvi shoots up to her feet to cheer, along with my parents. I stand before Mom can glare at me for being a bad sport.

“Wow, that was a great play,” Kashvi says, and gives a little yell.

“Yeah.”

“Your brother must be really good if he’s playing forward.”

I study her profile. How does she know what position he plays? I don’t know that, and I’ve watched countless games over the years. I follow her gaze back down to the field and try to really pay attention. It still looks like a lot of guys running randomly around a field, but Andrew does stand out from the others. I bet he’ll make varsity next fall.

Andrew kicks toward the goal, but another player is quick to knock it away. Kashvi groans and sits back down.

“I didn’t realize you were so into soccer.”

She shrugs. “My dad is a huge fan. I grew up watching it on TV.”

By the time the second half begins, it’s hard for me to focus on the game. Especially when Andrew’s team is up 5–0. Kashvi hands me a small bag of peanuts Mom brought with her. “Do you come to a lot of these games?” she asks. “This one is—”

“Boring?”

She laughs. “I was going to say a blowout, but sure.”

My phone vibrates and I pull it out to see a text from Logan. It’s not to the group chat, but just to me. My stomach jumps into my throat.

Logan: I was going through my dice tonight and thought you might be able to do something with these.

He sends a photo of a set of seven glittery green dice. My heart swells at the same time that I laugh.

Quinn: Those are some sparkly dice you have there.