Page 13 of Level Up for Love

Chapter

Three

When I show up to Game Knight on Thursday evening, I find my sister already gushing about her character to Shay, whom I recognize from the many pictures Mona has shared with me.

When Mona sees me, she waves frantically, vibrating with excitement. “Reagan! Finally. I’ve been waiting to introduce you two for ages.” She turns to rest her palm gently on Shay’s upper arm. “This,” she says, “is Shay.”

Shay’s easy grin with Mona shifts to a friendly close-lipped smile as she turns to me with an outstretched hand. “Hi, Reagan. I’ve heard so much.”

“So have I,” I tease. “I’m looking forward to playing together.”

Shay strikes me as different from the women Mona usually goes for. Mona tends to date often and briefly, spending a few bright weeks with fellow eccentric artists, quiet academics, or thoughtful musicians, relationships that fizzle out as soon as the newness wears off. But my first impression of Shay is sleek and businesslike. Her straight dark hair, parted to the right, falls in a smooth wave and ends in a blunt line at her chin. She must have just come from her job—Mona mentioned she works part-time at a lab between her senior-year classes at Yale—or she simply has impeccable style, with her thin gray turtleneck tucked into dark maroon-and-black-striped wide-legged trousers. Her heeled boots bring her of a height with me and Mona. Even though her smile seems genuine, I can’t help but note how calculating her dark eyes are as she sizes me up.

Her handshake grip is strong, and something about her seems vaguely familiar, though I can’t pinpoint what.

“Thanks again for inviting us to play,” I say, though she really invited only Mona. “Do you always play at Game Knight?”

“No, this is my first time,” Shay admits. “Our group used to only play together online, but then Colin got this job and our DM moved more local. It was his idea to play here, to shake up our group dynamic with two new players and a brand-new campaign.” There’s a line of tension between her dark brows, and I wonder whether perhaps Shay wasn’t always on board to open up the group. But then she looks to Mona, and her expression softens. “I think you’ll both have fun. I’ve been playing with this group for years, and they’re all fantastic.”

Oh good. That’s one point in favor of our mystery edgelord. “So you like the DM?” I press. I will not use his ridiculous code name. I refuse.

Shay nods vehemently, sending her hair swaying. “He’s the best one I’ve ever had. You’re lucky you got the open spots.”

Mona checks the time on her phone and jumps a little. “Oh! We should head down.” She threads her arm through Shay’s. “Tell me again about your character? Her name is Vera, right?”

Shay begins to describe what I gather is her human ranger character, and I let her and Mona lead the way, winding among Game Knight’s shelves and into the store’s basement. At the foot of the stairs, a long hallway leads us past several colored doors. One is closed—though I can hear raucous laughter within—but when I peek into the next two empty rooms, it becomes clear that each is decorated with a theme. One has star-speckled galaxy wallpaper and LED lights outlining every corner and table edge, making it look just like some sci-fi starship’s observation room, while the other has an elaborate mural of a fantasy forest on its walls, a crystal ball on the table, and plastic leaves and fairy lights dangling from the ceiling.

But I know immediately when I enter our room that it would have been my first choice, too.

Gray foam bricks line the room’s walls to give the impression of the interior of a castle—or a medieval dungeon. A dark chandelier hangs from the ceiling, lit with fake flickering candles, complementing the plastic torches propped in each corner of the room. A stuffed dragon’s head is mounted above the head of the table, and dark shelves are packed with game reference guides, supplies, maps, and everything else we could possibly ask for. From the room’s hidden speakers hums a dark gothic chant, further setting the mood for the challenging adventure we’re soon to embark on.

I’m already impressed.

Three men sit at the central table, though I recognize only Colin; he glances up and gives a half-hearted wave to me and a full smile to Mona. Sitting across from him is an older bearded man with a graying ponytail wearing a Hartford Whalers shirt. His eyes crinkle when he sees us, and I immediately recognize his calm expression and measured smile from Shay’s face; he must be her dad.

“Hey, guys,” the man says, voice gruff. “I’m Arthur.”

I feel an old ache in my chest—a bitter, heady mix of nostalgia and resignation. I wonder how long they’ve been playing together. Did Arthur introduce Shay to the game, too? Did he DM games for her growing up?

“Hi, Arthur. I’m—”

“Oh, hi!”

As I go to shake Arthur’s hand, my introduction is suddenly cut off by Mona’s shrill, cheerful greeting—this must be her first time meeting him.

I smile and take a step back. Arthur’s not the one I’m most curious about, anyway.

I look to the man sitting in the DM’s chair, his expression hidden behind a trifold screen separating him from the rest of the table as he pores over his notebook and open laptop. I have a screen just like it at home; many DMs prefer to keep their plans secret from their party for added dramatic effect. From over the screen, I can see only the top of his head of thick blond hair and the shoulders of his light olive-toned sweater, though I’d say it’s still too early in the season for it. I expected the infamous Warlock to have a much more sinister air about him, maybe even a trench coat, but there’s nothing sinister about a waffle knit.

I brace myself with a quick inhale. “Hey,” I say, shoving the worst of my assumptions about him aside and trying at friendliness. I set my and Mona’s character backstory sheets on the pile of others stacked next to him. “I’m Reagan. I’m looking forward to your game.”

His shoulders immediately tense, his hands freezing where he was writing something in his notebook. He’s slow to straighten, slow to lift his eyes, like he’s moving through water.

Finally, he looks up, and his gaze locks onto mine. “Reagan?”

Every muscle in my body tenses.

I know those eyes. Dark and rich brown, like a cup of strong black coffee first thing in the morning. I’m used to seeing them narrowed in challenge or emphasized by arched eyebrows. But in this moment, they are blown wide with shock.