Round 11

E ven after I’d backtracked on my concerns about Mr. Markham, Shaun took it upon himself to ensure I was never left alone with my boss at work.

I’d always thought of Shaun as my brother, and I imagined it would feel something like this.

He wheeled over with two foil-wrapped squares and handed me what I knew would be the stretchiest, cheesiest sandwich in town.

“Your unread emails drive me nuts.” Shaun peeked at my screen, his mouth full of food.

I tore open the foil with my teeth while scrolling. “I get so much promotional mail.”

“Do you know that you don’t get a prize for subscribing to everything? Is this one of the strange things you’ve turned into a game?”

“No, I just don’t like missing things.”

“As if any of that is important. You’ve left them unread for a reason.”

I huffed and read the bolded text. “There’s some useful stuff here. A new Lady of War is being released next month, and there’s a discount in this email.” I kept scrolling. “And this…” I paused, my heart hopping to my throat.

Shaun’s eyes landed on the subject line I had selected:

There’s still time to submit your original board games!

His chewing stopped.

I ignored the email, like I’d ignored the original one, and like I was ignoring the way my stomach fluttered at the possibility of it.

Shaun grabbed my computer mouse before I could press delete. “Too slow, Rose.” He read through the email without stopping until he found the link to the submission guidelines.

I sunk deeper and deeper into my seat. Having Shaun read that email made it feel all too real, as if it was actually possible that I could win.

“You have to do this!” He faced me, pinning me with his gaze. “Aside from the cash prize, your board game would be developed and distributed worldwide. Rose, your game would be played everywhere.”

I shook my head despite my fluttering stomach twisting into an ache in my chest. “I don’t have time. I didn’t have time when they made the initial announcement, and now I have even less time.”

I reached for the mouse, and he wheeled away.

“You have to,” Shaun said. “Isn’t your game like almost done?”

“You know nothing about my game.” Anger crept up, but it wasn’t meant to be directed at Shaun. The only other person that I’d ever tried showing my game to, outside of my parents and Gandalf, was Patrick, and he wasn’t interested in playing it. “This isn’t real life.” I swiped the mouse and gestured at the screen before closing the window and replacing it with my office emails. “This is.”

My throat was thick with fear… fear of what? Achieving a dream or failing at it?

Shaun’s light blue eyes were soft even though he wore the Ashdern scowl.

“Please go for your lunchtime workout.” I turned away, hoping Shaun didn’t spot the way I pined for the exact thing he was encouraging me to do. “I have work to do.”

Shaun blew out a breath and stood. “Fine. But we’re not done here.”

“We are. I don’t have the capacity to even think about this.”

It was an absolute lie, as that was all I did for the rest of the day.

Your game would be played everywhere .

Was it bad that I was happy Patrick was away for work? Was it even worse that, when he returned, I used my MBA as an excuse not to see him? Because that’s what happened, and it almost made doing the MBA worth it.

It wasn’t untrue. My deadlines were approaching, and I was running out of time. So much so that I was prepared to give up game night. But Shaun and Neema lured me in by telling me they needed my help with wedding planning.

I straightened my fitted black pencil skirt as Shaun opened the door to his apartment. Inside, William was sprawled on the couch, taking up more space than any one person should. His legs were spread wide, and his head dipped back with his eyes lowered to the screen in front of him. It was a miracle he could see through those stupidly long eyelashes.

As soon as I stepped inside, William’s gaze snapped up and then traveled down to my heeled boots. “Did you walk here in those?” He glanced back up at me. “Looking to twist the other ankle?”

“Hello, William. It’s nice to see you too.” I used my snarky tone, maintaining just enough eye contact for him to wonder whether it was true.

It was.

A wide, friendly smile flashed across his face, and it was all too easy to reciprocate.

Fingers tapped across my back, and I spun around to face Lincoln. He lifted a sealed glass container. “Dal for you. My mom wants her container back.” He lifted another box. “Jalebi, to share.”

“Thank you!” I shrieked, already salivating.

He offered me his trademark half smile and slipped by. Claire came up behind him and pulled me in for a hug. It had been a while since she had joined for game night.

And since Claire rarely gave hugs, Neema joined us, and seconds later Shaun came bouncing over. “You’re not group hugging without me.” Shaun turned toward us, his arms thrown wide.

William shook his head. “You people are ridiculous.”

“Wanna join?” I teased.

“I’d rather drink acid.”

I couldn’t resist giggling, especially once I caught sight of the light bouncing around in his eyes as he said it.

Playing Nice was so much easier than whatever it was we were doing before. I’d have to thank Shaun for it someday.

A sharp rap on the door, followed by Patrick’s business voice, signaled his unexpected arrival. My anxiety peaked, which was one of my newer reactions to seeing my boyfriend. I opened the door to greet him, but he was grumbling at whomever he was talking to, his phone squeezed between his ear and shoulder and his laptop open in the palm of his left hand.

“I’ll call you back with an update soon,” Patrick barked into his phone before hanging up. He gave me a quick peck on the cheek. “Hey, babe.”

“You came,” Neema said from behind me, a flash of white as she smiled.

I opened my mouth to say something, but he cut me off and gestured to his laptop. “I have a deadline.”

“I see.” I searched the depths of my soul for even the slightest desire to offer him a hug or to place my lips against his, but there was no urgency.

How do those feelings disappear? Where do they go? The island with all the missing socks and plastic container lids?

Patrick sat down with his laptop and inserted his noise-canceling earbuds before continuing his work with a deep frown of concentration.

Sitting next to him, I unzipped my heels and curled my legs beneath me. Pulling my gaze away from his screen, I found everyone watching me.

Shaun placed a cup of tea in front of me, and Lincoln pushed the box of jalebi toward me. “Thanks,” I said, and despite my spidey sense tingling, I wasted no time shoving the sticky, crunchy, chewy treat into my mouth.

With my mouth full, I finally asked, “What’s going on?”

Shaun paled.

Neema and Claire smiled, but their eyes were wide open.

Lincoln removed his glasses and rubbed his temples, avoiding my gaze.

My anxiety heightened. “What is it?”

Shaun made a show of pulling out his whistle to start the game, but there was nothing set up.

“Ey, what are we playing?” I asked.

“You tell us.” Neema lifted a tote bag from behind the couch and dropped it on the table. Her concerned expression met mine. “Shaun told me about the competition. You should enter.”

My head snapped toward Shaun, who flinched.

“It’s my turn to pick a game, and this is what I want to play.” He unzipped the bag and lifted out a board more familiar to me than my own hands. I had spent hours painting it with my mother and repainting it on my own. “If you’ll let us.”

My breath hitched.

He pulled out the pieces, one at a time: the hat, the crown, the book, the sword, and the bow and arrow. Each time he reached inside the bag and pulled out another component, a piece of me went numb.

I lost my voice, my ability to move.

I was vaguely aware of Neema’s eager smile, of the guilt in Shaun’s expression, and Claire’s squeal of delight. Lincoln leaned forward and scrutinized the board while William said nothing, his wide-eyed gaze fixed on the game in front of us.

They were waiting for me to say something, but I couldn’t think. All I could hear was the click-click-click-click of Patrick’s keyboard beside me.

My heart raced with each tap of his fingers, the short pants of my breath coming faster and faster. I was having a panic attack.

I was having a panic attack.

I was definitely having a panic attack.

“I pick this one,” William announced, louder than the blood pumping in my ears. He grabbed the hat marker and looked at me. His eyes were lighter than I’d ever seen them. He wanted to play.

But this wasn’t one of our silly little games. This was my game. And they knew nothing about it. What if they hated it?

“Come on,” William chirped at the rest of them.

Neema sprung into action. “I want the bow and arrow.”

Shaun grabbed the crown.

Lincoln took the sword and brought it close to his eyes.

Claire picked up the book between two fingers.

“Is it a five-player game?” Neema asked. “Can we add something for you? Otherwise, you can have my bow.”

I shook my head, kneeling before the board with limbs that had gone useless. “It’s a six-player game, but I’ve lost the heart game piece.”

I thought back to that day so many years ago. Gandalf had taken it, claiming he wanted original memorabilia of the greatest board game to ever exist.

Neema removed the heart charm on her necklace and added it to the starting square. “Here. We can use this.”

Tears prickled behind my eyelids. I kept them shut, trying to compose myself.

“Can you two please hold it together?” Shaun said. “We haven’t even started.”

Neema and I giggled.

“What’s it called?” Lincoln trailed his deft fingers across the board, lingering on areas with different textures.

I’d referred to it as my Board-Game-in-Progress for so long that I nearly forgot the name.

“It’s, uhm, it’s called…” I hesitated, begging my voice to stay with me. “Overpower . ”

Everyone nodded, encouraging me to continue.

“It’s a fantasy-adventure game.” I turned to my best friend. “Neema, your bow and arrow makes you a warrior. So are you, Lincoln, with the sword.” I studied the different regions on the board. “Um, Claire, you’re a scientist. Shaun, you’re obviously the king with… you know, the crown. And uh, William… the hat, you’re an enchanter.”

“Ha!” William offered me a wink, and the anxiety I held on to lessened.

“And the heart?” Neema asked.

“Oh, I’m a medic.” I blew out a stream of air, trying to calm my nerves before continuing.

I glanced at Patrick, and my stomach sank. His eyes still focused on his screen. He might as well have been anywhere else for as much attention as he was giving us.

Neema nudged him, and his gaze lifted and met mine.

“What’s this?” he asked, removing one earbud.

A part of me ached, wishing he hadn’t noticed. He’d spent countless hours in my bedroom and had never asked me about it.

“It’s Rose’s game.” Shaun beamed. “Which we have no idea how to play.”

“Cool, babe.” He glanced at his phone as it buzzed in his hand. “I have to take this, please excuse me.” He answered the call and stood, already rambling off numbers and percentages.

A whip of frustration slapped across my spine, but I ignored it and focused on the group of people smiling at me.

“Okay, so… the rules. You probably need the rules… which I haven’t written anywhere.”

I recited them from memory, stumbling and contradicting myself before accepting what I always ended up realizing: they weren’t good.

I hopped to my feet, ready to pack it up. “It doesn’t make sense. It needs work, and the deadline is approaching. Plus the timer broke. Let’s play something else—even Dungeons & Dragons. We could even play FIFA .” I turned to William. “Hand me a controller.”

But William’s soft smile stayed fixed. “Nah. We’re already invested here, and now we know at least half the rules.” Reaching above his head, he grabbed a timer from another game on the shelf behind him. “Are you afraid I’ll beat you at your own game?”

His eyes met mine, and my heart thundered.

He raised an eyebrow to challenge me, and it struck me then: I wanted William’s approval. Since the day I’d discovered he was a game developer, that he fixed games for a living and was the only one who ever matched my enthusiasm for playing, I’d wanted his approval, but up until now, I was too scared to ask.

If I could get him to like my game—the man who mastered every game—then surely it was worth something.

I wanted this. Holding his gaze and exhaling all the little butterflies flying in my stomach, I whispered, “Let’s play.”

Shaun blew his whistle again, and the game, my game, began.

It went on for hours—far longer than a board game should. But my friends were laughing, arguing, and at one point Claire even threatened Lincoln. I choked back tears of joy, and my heart swelled in my chest.

But William was taking notes. Each time he wrote something down, I leaned over to see what he was writing, but he shoved his notebook under his thigh, hiding it from me.

There was no way I would touch his thigh.

Despite that, he seemed to be enjoying himself. And everyone reassured me afterward that they had as well.

But there was a huge crack in my otherwise joyous moment, splitting me into tiny pieces. At some point in the middle of the game, Patrick had left.

He hadn’t shown any interest in game night in years, so why would this change anything?

But it did. It changed everything.