Chapter 3

CHAPTER

THREE

NATIE

I place down a tiny wooden piece on the board and then grin. "So, what are we playing next?"

One of my best friends, Hamadi, leans in. "Aren't we in the middle of playing Settlers of Catan?" He's a buff Egyptian dude with ochre skin and huge biceps. He's often confused, but this time, I caught him unaware on purpose.

"He's gloating," Firass remarks. He stares at the board game, examining every angle to ensure that I indeed won. He's thorough, and I expect nothing less from the guy I've been friends with for decades. It takes analytical skill to be a professional game designer. Now that I'm working part-time for him, I'll get to flex those skills, too.

"Yeah, Natie just won, it seems." Dylan, my other best friend, taps Hamadi on the shoulder. "We didn't even notice!" They share a laugh, and he runs his hands through his curly brown hair. How his silver rings don't get caught in his locks, I don't know. He smiles and I notice the shine of his lip gloss; I could never pull off makeup the way Dylan does.

"Yup. He won the points for longest road," Firass remarks. He nods, and I smile at him. My three best friends and I are having our regularly scheduled game night at Harpoon Game Café. Shelves line the walls, each packed to the edge with colorful games, RPG tomes, puzzles, and accessories. Several patrons around us are playing and enjoying their signature beverages. We've cultivated a supportive community of game-lovers here in Newlantic. Some of my favorite people work in this café, helping at the front desk or serving food in the tucked-away kitchen.

"I didn't even realize. I mean, I know I'm oblivious sometimes, but still." He laughs at himself and leans back, crossing his arms. His chest and arms bulge dramatically; if he wasn't close to me like a brother, I might actually have a crush on him.

"Hey, to the victor goes the privilege." Dylan picks up the cardboard box we all share.

"I didn't forget. Gimme, gimme." I make grabby motions, and Dylan sniggers. As my reward for winning, I mark a tally next to my name in black marker. I run my fingers over our group moniker, the words we wrote in years ago: Single Gamer's Society. The only problem is…

Dylan hops up and looks at his phone. "Oop, gotta go. You boys have fun without me."

"Already? Is something wrong?" I think I know the answer, but it doesn't make me any happier.

"I have to, um…talk to Vil about…our next workout regimen…" He bites his lip and looks away.

"Ah!" Hamadi sticks his tongue out and slaps Dylan's hip. "I know what that means. Your big bulky boyfriend is done with work. You found another sexy game to play, eh?"

The three of us tease and heckle him, and Dylan blushes. He's been dating this muscular paragon of a man for almost a year. Vil is a cool dude, and I'm glad Dylan found him, but I don't want to hear about his sex life.

"I will neither confirm nor deny what I do with Vil," he says. We all howl, and he looks up. "Speaking of studly boyfriends…"

I turn around to see the café door open. My brother, Johnny, and his buddy, Andres, walk in. Well, Andres is my buddy, too. Either way, their main duties are to be with their boyfriends, Firass and Hamadi respectively.

That's right―not only is my best friend dating my brother, but Hamadi also has a boyfriend. That leaves me as the only single member of the Single Gamer's Society.

Dylan small-talks with Andres briefly, then leaves. My brother fist-bumps me momentarily before hopping on Firass's lap. He's way bulkier than me, and Firass has informed me on more than one occasion he loves the way Johnny looks in his leather jacket. Turning to my left, Hamadi rests his chin on Andres's shoulder. Andres is larger, and Hamadi wraps his arms around his thicker waist. No one has ever made him as happy as Andres, and the feeling is clearly mutual.

You would think neither of these couples live together with the amount of affection they're displaying right now.

But they're my favorite people, and I love them. So I let them chat as I pack up the Settlers of Catan box. After I place it on a far shelf, my friends don't even notice when I hesitate to return to the group. They're chatting and cuddling and making kissy faces to their significant others. So much for tonight's gaming session.

It's perfectly fine, I'm fine. I need to remind myself that I care for them all. My brother has been completely supportive of me since he moved back two years ago. Also, Andres deserves to be happy considering all the drama that happened because of Hamadi.

Seeing the love in front of me and knowing I don't have it stings more than a little bit. I try not to let it hurt, but the truth is, life was more comfortable when the Single Gamer's Society was, well, single.

So, I fiddle on my phone, make up some excuse about having a stomachache, then leave. My four friends don't give me a second glance when I walk out the door.

"Dad, that isn't how this spreadsheet goes," I say.

"What? What's wrong, musuko ?"

"This." I point to the front desk computer screen and Dad saunters over, putting on his reading glasses. This isn't the first time I've told him how to do this, but I attempt to channel all the patience I can muster. Game night was days ago, and it's back to work for me. I'm dressed in my white button-down work shirt, the appropriate attire for my parents' resort business, Shiba's Seaside.

I'm grateful that Great Big Sea Games allows me the flexibility to still work part-time here―one of the perks of working for your best friend. Right now, though, working with my loving parents is getting on my nerves. I recall why I wanted to get a second job, but also why I needed to stay. Dad isn't exactly mastering the changes in technology of the hospitality business.

" Otōsan , please take a look." I click twice and show him how to schedule appointments. Am I impressed that Japanese immigrants managed to start a bed and breakfast that thrived? Of course. But we've been a full-fledged resort for a few years now, which means more responsibilities. Speaking of…

"Wait, according to this, someone's coming in for a wedding venue visit?" I point to the now-corrected spreadsheet.

"Huh." Dad peers at the screen. "Davi must have picked up that phone call. She's a bright young woman, that one."

"She sure is," I mutter. If it wasn't for her competence, I wouldn't have left my parents' business at all. But now I need to address our work for the day. "They're coming soon? Shit …"

"Language, Natie," Dad mutters.

I bite back a remark reminding Dad that I'm thirty-one, because that would be rude. Plus, I live on the edge of the property with my brother and Firass, and it feels like I'm still a kid sometimes. So, I make a few more adjustments on the screen, hoping that Dad follows how the expenses need to be organized. I barely notice two minutes later when a woman approaches the desk.

"Welcome to Shiba's Seaside," Dad says. I straighten my back and close the files, then smile at her. A young Latina woman who looks vaguely familiar stands before me. She's flanked by a tall black man and a petite white woman, and they're all smiles. "How can I help you?" Dad asks.

"Hi!" The woman in the middle waves like she knows me. "We're the Williams wedding. We have an appointment to tour the venue."

Time for professionality . "Of course," I reply with a smile. When an older couple approaches the neighboring desk, I tap Dad's shoulder. " Otōsan , I got this, you can check them out. Customer service, right?" I whisper.

Dad nods quickly and leaves while I walk around to greet the trio.

"I'm Wayne, this is my fiancée, Santana, and her maid of honor, Gretchen." I shake hands with them all. Typically I'd be jealous of them for finding true love—Santana is gorgeous, and Wayne is handsome—but I'm in full-on work mode.

"Nice to meet you. Congratulations on your impending nuptials. I'm Natie."

"I know," Santana says. "We went to high school together, remember?"

My eyebrows furrow. "Uh…"

"And middle school, too." Santana chuckles and glances at Wayne. "You probably remember my older brother, the big football man. He's parking the car."

"And my best man," Wayne adds. "Oh, there he is right now."

As I try to recall a memory of Santana, I turn to my left to see a manly figure enter the lobby. My jaw drops when I see Santos Hand approaching us.