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I spot a storefront with a black awning that readsLove Gamesin white gothic lettering. The window display is all leather, metal, and fur and…is that what I think it is? A sex shop? Maybe even a dungeon? With a display window? Wow, for a small town in middle America, this is wild.
I approach and peek through the glass.
Curiously, I see a display of ornate dice towers resembling castles, plus stacks of books and board games that look oddly familiar.
Wait…something clicks all of a sudden. This isn’t a sex shop. This is a game shop…one of those specialized shops that sell role-playing games that my sister likes, likeCrypt CrawlersorHero Quest.Every weekend, my sister Rebel disappears into one of those places in our hometown and goes no-contact for hours. Then she’ll come home and excitedly regale all of us with tales of her “campaigns,” though I never understand what the hell she is talking about.
I suddenly feel homesick. Maybe I should call my sister.
Or maybe I should have shown more curiosity about her hobbies, and we’d be closer than we are. Now I’m curious about all this. I see games and manuals with fantastical and scary-sounding names likeBlood Mountain Bootyand a steampunk-y one calledTime Machine Treasure.
But the most curious thing of all is the six-foot-four man with salt and pepper scruff, with one hand groping amannequin’s boob beneath a sexy fur and leather bra. What the what?
Is that…no, it can’t be…and yet I know it is. I recognize those gorgeous eyes. The difference now is those eyes look angry—so angry I would not be shocked if laser beams shot out of them and cut holes in the glass between us.
This is uncomfortable and weird. I stumble backward into a passing shopper, apologize, then bolt away.
So the game shop is off my shopping list.
I duck into a pretty little aromatherapy store on the next corner, hoping to get distracted from this feeling like I just got struck by lightning.
Yep. Just put one foot in front of the other and keep going.
Without realizing it, I walk in a circle and end up at Love Games again. Great. I’ve made a complete loop around the courthouse square and officially seen everything, yet nothing.
And I’m no closer to coming up with what I’ll say to my parents about the interview.
I stare at the window, relieved not to see the handsome man groping the mannequin.
I gaze up at the awning and think.
And then it hits me. I don’t know my life plan yet, but I know exactly what my next step should be.
4
Dean
I stand in front of the mirror and go down the mental list before returning to the shop.
Showered and shaved? Check.
Clothes and fingernails fresh and free from any serial killer vibes? Check.
Squinting at my reflection, I frown. Don’t know if I can stop giving grumpy, skittish asshole, but this is the best I can do for now.
I head downstairs and wonder if all that grooming was in vain, because let’s be real. There’s no way that lady is coming back to my store. Not with the way I looked at her.
Then again, there’s something about a shower that can fix what ails you.
It’ll take a lot more than a shower to fix what’s wrong with me, but at least I can’t smell myself now.
Deep in thought, I push in through the back alley door and crash into something that most definitely should not be there.
Correction: not something. Someone.
My brain registers the mop of brown curly hair, pink T-shirt, and the soft body that bounces off me and stumbles backward.
“Whoa!” I shout, instinctively reaching out and grabbing the person’s arm to steady them. “Are you okay?”
