Chapter Eight

The first live session lasts two hours, which is standard for this group, and we all sigh with relief when we’re off camera.

Sloane slaps their hands on the table. “I think that was a great session. We lost some of our traction on viewers from last time, but we can build it back again.”

“I love the idea of starting us on the ship. Very cool,” Sanjiv says.

“I wanted to do something other than having you all meet in a tavern like usual.”

“Sorry Rolo kind of…capsized the boat,” Mark says. He rolled so poorly when he was trying to helm the ship that Sloane described him as finding the only rock formation in the sea and running the boat directly into it.

“Apology not accepted,” Kashvi replies. “You lost us all of our equipment. How am I supposed to be the greatest fighter this world has ever seen if I don’t have a freaking sword?”

Mark ducks his head.

“If it makes you feel any better, I was going to capsize the boat anyway, so you were always going to lose your weapons,” Sloane says, and we all burst out laughing.

“Classic.” Logan stretches and stands up. “Can we hang out longer or does your family have plans?”

Kashvi sighs. “We’re supposed to go see our aunt as soon as the session is done. Mom’s probably two minutes from coming down here to kick everyone out.”

“Do you think you’d be able to drop me off at my house on your way?” I ask. “My mom and dad are watching Andrew’s game, so I don’t have a ride.”

“Usually it would be totally fine, but my parents are anxious to get on the road since my aunt is an hour away.” She looks to the others. “Can anyone else drive her?”

“Where do you live?” Logan asks.

“On the east side of town, off Chestnut Street.”

Mark, Sloane, and Logan all look at each other as if they’re having a silent conversation. Nerves rattle through me. We just spent the last two hours bonding, but I’m suddenly aware that I’m still the new person here.

“I’m the only one going in that direction,” Logan says a moment later, his voice less than excited. “I’ll take you.”

“You don’t have to.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Didn’t you just say you need aride?”

“Yeah, but…”

I can’t really volunteer somebody else to drive me instead, especially if I’m asking them to go completely out of their way to drop me off. If my house was a little closer—and if it was a little warmer—I’d 100percent walk home rather than ride with Logan.

“I know you aren’t thrilled, but you can’t stay here,” he mutters, and starts packing up his things.

The group chats for a few more minutes and Kashvi gives me a hug. “I’m so glad you’re playing with us—you did an awesome job today. I’ll text you later.”

“Have fun with your family.” I know I’m being a dork to care so much, but I’m excited she wants to text me. She’s not sick of me yet.

I follow Logan out of the house and down the street to his small, beat-up green Chevy S-10 truck. I climb in and hold my things on my lap. It’s so uncomfortable sitting in tight quarters with him after bickering for the last two hours.

“Thanks for doing this,” I say begrudgingly once he plugs my address into his phone’s GPS since his truck is too old to have a built-in system.

“No problem.”

We drive the next few minutes in complete silence. I guess he doesn’t like listening to the radio, and I’m not about to start playing with the dials and annoy him more. But his cold, standoffish persona is still on full display, and I have an irrational urge to dismantle it. I wish I knew for sure why he’s changed so much from those first few days when I talked to him. If it’s about the group rules, then that would mean he likes me, so wouldn’t he at least be pleasant around me? More likely he doesn’t think I deserve to play in the campaign with them. Or maybe he’s annoyed I showed him up today. Regardless, it can’t continue like this. I need to win him over again, if only to make the campaign easier.

“Do you think the game went well today?” I ask in a cheery voice.

“Yeah.”

“It seems like it’s going to be a fun campaign. I wonder what Sloane has in store for us next time. Are they a toughDM?”

“Sometimes.”

My eyes narrow on the road ahead. Seriously? He’s only giving me one-word answers?

I huff and pull my bag closer to my chest. “Why do you suddenly dislike me?”

He flinches and the truck slows momentarily as his foot comes off the accelerator. “I…What? I don’t dislike you.”

“Well, you clearly don’t like me playing D&D. You were cool when we first met, but now you can barely string two words together to answer a question. Do you think I’m ruining the game?”

He jerks his head in my direction. “No.”

“But you didn’t want me to join—don’t try to deny it.Why?”

He shrugs and his fingers flex around the steering wheel. “Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t matter.”

My pulse speeds and I can’t stop my mind from going back to the group’s rule on dating. He hasn’t confirmed that’s the reason…but he hasn’t denied it either. I want to know, but the abject horror of asking him outright only to have him say no—or laugh in disgust—is enough to keep me silent for life. Anyway, knowing the answer won’t change anything. I’m not quitting this game. For the first time in months, I have people I can call friends, and I won’t jeopardize that.

I swallow and try to calm my thoughts. “It matters when we’re playing in a cooperative game together. And when you’re acting like the leader of the campaign,” I mutter. “What’s up with that, anyway?”

“The others always turn to me. I don’t ask for it.” He glances at me. “What, do you want to be the leader or something?”

“No.” That wasn’t what I was saying at all. “Though maybe I should since Adris couldn’t even get us out of our cells.”

“Nasria wouldn’t be a good leader. You said she hates people.”

“She hates elves.”

“Well, isn’t that convenient,” he replies sarcastically. “But Adris’s Charisma will win her over.”

“Not if his Charisma is anything like yours.”

He sniffs. “Maybe he won’t want to win her over if her personality is anything like yours.”

“Then thank god I gave her that personality.”

I slouch in frustration. I was hoping to get him to warm up to me, and instead we’re bickering even more.

I peek over at Logan, expecting to find him glowering. Instead, he’s…amused? Is he enjoying this? I could swear he’s fighting a smile, and wow, it’s not fair the way it transforms his face or the emotions roiling inside me.

“Did I say something funny?”

“Most of what you say is funny.”

“That sounds like a compliment, but since you’re the one saying it, I’m going to assume it’s not.”

This time he doesn’t fight the smile that spreads over his face. “No, it’s a compliment.”

I flush and squeeze my bag even tighter. We drive through a few more streets in silence, and I force myself not to look at him, but he doesn’t follow suit. His thumbs tap on the steering wheel as he drives, and he keeps glancing over at me. Finally, he clears his throat.

“I’ve been curious, was there a reason your grandma stopped and asked us to take a photo?”

I frown. “Um, because she wanted a photo.”

“Right. But what I mean is, there were lots of people in the parking lot that morning. She could have asked anyone, but she asked us. I was just wondering if there was a reason.”

My eyes narrow at the possible implications of his question. “Are you insinuating that I asked her to stop?”

“It had occurred to me.”

“Oh my god.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “That whole thing was completely her idea. I had nothing to do with it.”

The British GPS voice announces “Arrived.”

Logan pulls his truck in front of my house, puts it in park, and turns to me. “Okay, fine, if that’s what your answer is, then I believe you.”

But the casual skepticism in his tone pricks at my nerves.

“If you think I concocted some scheme just so I had an excuse to talk to you, then you’re the most egotistical person I’ve ever met,” I reply in a tone that’s more self-assured than I feel. “My grandma is the one who spotted you because she was so desperate for a photo. I was too busy fangirling over Kashvi’s d20 earrings to notice you.”

Rather than look annoyed, he only leans back against the driver’s side door and surveys me. “Well, that’s too bad,” he replies. “Because I noticed you.”

Heat zips up my spine. I stare at him for a second as I try to process his words, but my heart is beating too fast and my brain is chugging too slow. He noticed me, which means…what? That he was interested in me? Possibilities for the two of us swirl in my mind, but it’s not like I can act on any of this even if I wanted to. Which I don’t. I’m committed to the group now.

I bumble to open the passenger door. I’m completely thrown by the end of this conversation, and I need space and air to figure out how I feel. I step out—completely forgetting I’m in a truck with a higher step down—and drop onto the curb. My knees hit the grass and I twist to glare at the offending truck.

Logan jumps out and jogs around to me. “Whoa, are you all right?”

“Your stupid truck is too high off the ground. It’s impossible to get out of it.”

“This is actually a really small truck. So small it’s embarrassing to drive.”

“You’re not helping, in case you were wondering.”

I push my bangs out of my eyes, mortification growing in me with every passing second. This is the moment I choose to make a complete fool of myself in front of Logan? I want to get away from him, not spend more time together. I stand and force my chin up.

“I’m fine. You don’t need to stay any longer.”

I take a step back, not realizing my bag is now directly behind me, and trip again. I hit the ground harder this time. Oh my god, I’m one second away from bursting into tears out of sheer embarrassment.

Before I can move, Logan is crouched in front of me. His eyebrows pull down in concern and his hands wrap around my wrists. He tugs me gently to my feet and I can’t ignore the charged tingle that shoots up my arms from the feel of his fingers pressed into my skin. It renders me mute for a moment.

“Quinn, what’s going on with you?”

“Nothing. I’m okay, I just tripped.”

“Are you sure? Do you have, like, vertigo or something?”

My all-encompassing embarrassment cranks up another notch. “No, nothing like that.”

But he’s looking at me with such worry and interest, his gaze almost boring into me, and I grasp for some explanation to give him. Something that makes more sense than saying I’m unsteady in his presence.

“Uh, actually, maybe I do have something going on with my ears today. Like the beginning of an ear infection?” The words keep coming, although I’m not sure what I’m saying. “I’ve heard it can affect your balance—you know, something with inner ear fluid?”

Inner ear fluid? All sense fell out of my brain when I tripped over my bag.

He lifts his hands to my shoulders, as if to keep me from tipping over. “That sounds serious. I’ll help you to your door, but you should call the doctor when you get inside. Or I could call my mom? She’s a nurse.”

If we keep talking, I’m going to find myself in urgent care. I glance behind me, grab my bag, and take a step back.

“I’m okay, really. I’m already feeling better.” I wave him off and start toward the sidewalk to the front door.

“You’re sure?”

“I only bruised my ego.”

He considers me, then nods. “Yeah, okay. But call the doctor before it gets worse.”

He returns to his truck and pulls away, leaving me on the front step with a racing heart, confused thoughts, and dubious inner ear fluid.