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“Mass Effectfanfic,” I replied with zero shame. Was it the absolute height of gamer nerdiness? Yes; yes, it was. But if Beacon Hill had given me one gift, it was the ability to be unabashedly comfortable in my own skin. A lesson that had only been enhanced at Georgia Tech, where I’d made friends with fellow gamers who shared and nurtured my love of all things game related.
“What isMass Effectfanfic?” He turned to me, the confusion on his face forcing me to stifle a laugh.
“Mass Effectis — in my opinion — the best computer game ever made,” I explained, trying to keep my enthusiasm contained. “The game has a romance subplot between two characters, Garrus Vakarian and Captain Shepard. Fans of the game write alternate storylines for them and share them on a website for other fans to read. And as you know, I do love some good fanfic.”
“So these are stories written by fans about video game characters?” His question didn’t seem to contain any judgment, just a genuine desire to understand a new concept.
“Yep.” I nodded. “A lot of games have subplots for characters in addition to the overarching plot of the game. People will expand on the subplots or give them alternate endings. Some of them are trash, but there are some really good pieces of fanfic too. There’s also fan art based on the games.”
“I had no idea,” Holden murmured, scrolling through the story on the screen. “I never got into computer games or video games.”
“Yeah, that information doesn’t really shock me. What did teenage Holden enjoy?” I asked, greedy as always to know everything I could about him.
He set down the tablet and adjusted his position on the couch to face me more comfortably.
“I was on the lacrosse team and the debate team. I did mock trial my senior year.”
“Wow.” I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me, and his lips curved into a chagrined smile. “That isn’t prep school cliché at all. But I asked what youenjoyed, not what you did. Did you actually enjoy those activities?”
He shrugged. “I did like lacrosse — a lot, actually. I liked watching sports, hockey and football in particular. I played on a hockey rec team in college; still play a pickup game when I can. I taught myself to play the guitar in high school.”
I smiled, imagining a teenage Holden practicing the guitar. He noticed.
“What’s the smile for?”
“I’m just imagining you learning to play the guitar and using your skills on all those poor, prep school girls.”
He chuckled, leaning farther back on the armrest.
“I did learn to play a couple songs to get a date once. It was sophomore year, and I knew she loved Dave Matthews, so I learned to play ‘Crash Into Me.’”
“Did it work?”
“Like a charm. She was my date for the formal that year. We dated for almost two years, which felt like a lifetime in high school.” He stared thoughtfully at Douglas as he rolled by the couch and came to a stop under the coffee table.
I tried to read that thoughtful expression and to convince myself that I had no reason to hate this girl. Was she his first love? Did he lie awake at night wondering what his life would look like if they had stayed together all this time? Who broke things off? Ugh, I hated a girl who I knew nothing about, other than that she’d had good taste in music when she was in high school. I would hate any girl who had ever owned any piece of Holden’s heart.
“Two yearsisa lifetime in high school,” I finally managed. “All of high school felt like it lasted an eternity really. Much like this freaking wedding.”
I changed the subject before I had to add even more girls I didn’t know to my imaginary hit list.
“We just have to make it one more week. It’ll all be over Saturday.” Holden repeated, like it would come true if he said it often enough.
“And then Sissy will find a new way to make everyone’s life miserable. But,” I hedged, trying to add a little optimism to the gloom that had settled over the couch when I’d brought up Sissy and the wedding, “you’ll be living in another city, living your best life and going fishing at five in the morning on Saturdays.”
That earned me a full smile, which erased some of the tiredness etched on his face.
“Five o’clock?”
“According to my dad, that’s when the fish are really biting. I’m not convinced that he didn’t get up that early just to torture us, though.”
“Speaking of torture, when are you heading back to Beacon Hill?”
“After work on Tuesday. We all have our final dress fittings at Char’s Wednesday evening.” The thought of using my precious PTO days on this wedding made me want to scream. “I’m sure Sissy and Mama will put me to work the rest of the week. What about you?”
“I have to head up Monday night. The final tux fittings are on Tuesday. We’re golfing on Wednesday with some clients, so that’ll be a nice reprieve from wedding things.”
“Are you bringing Greer to the wedding?” I toyed with the hem of my shirt, picking nervously at the frayed strings and trying to appear uninterested in his answer even though my heart was racing.
