Page 25 of Dungeons and Drama

“Three ogres come out from the ruins and spot you. One raises its arm, ready to toss a boulder in your direction.”

At this, John’s shoulders slump and Anthony falls back into his chair. “I knew we should have gone to the town instead.”

“What do you want to do next?” Lucas asks her.

“I run back to the group!”

“Not so stealthy now,” I mutter under my breath. “Is there anything I can do? Could I lull them to sleep by singing or something?” I ask.

Lucas shakes his head. “It’s the ogres’ round first.” He looks at something behind his paper screen and then back to the group. “All right, all three ogres are attacking the party—the first two toward Elphaba and Callista, the last toward Spruce Wayne.”

Nathan sits up, adjusting his glasses and pushing up the sleeves of his sweatshirt. “I’ll use my protection reaction to guard Elphaba.”

The whole table freezes. The guys gawk at him, then at me, and back to him. From their looks of shock, I assume this must be like Nathan telling them he’s going to become a professional ballroom dancer. Or try out for lacrosse.

“What?”Lucas asks.

“I’ll protect Riley.” He turns and gives me a small, nervous smile.

This is more like it. I put my hand on his arm. “Thanks, Nath—uh, Sol.”

“Are you kidding me, Nathan?” Sophia asks incredulously. “You’re supposed to be my paladin. You protect me.”

“I’m not actuallyyourpaladin. I’m supposed to protect the party—especially our most valuable player.”

“You’re not protecting me,” John grumbles to himself.

Lucas rolls his dice. “The first ogre attacks Elphaba with disadvantage and…it’s a miss.” He gives me a small grin. “The next ogre attacks Callista and…it’s a critical hit.”

Sophia throws her hands up in the air. “Great, now I’m taking a dirt nap. Somebody better protect me next time.” She turns to Nathan. “Do you have change I can use for a Diet Coke?”

“Sorry, I used my last change on these.” He holds up a pack of M&M’s. Sophia gets up from the table, but not without a lingering glance at Nathan. Lucas moves on to Anthony’s character.

“What’s your favorite color?” Nathan asks me in a hushed tone. His eyes trail down my body. “Or is that a silly question given what you’re wearing tonight?”

I look down self-consciously. The chilly fall weather means I got to wear one of my favorite sweaters—rainbow polka dots—along with my bright red jeans. I don’t see why I need to limit myself to wearing one color when I can wear them all.

“First, well done a moment ago. You’re catching on,” Iwhisper. “And second, you’re not allowed to make fun of my clothes anymore. You have to be nice now.”

“I think we already established that mild insults are acceptable if delivered in the right way. Which is why I’m staring at your very bright red jeans as if I can’t pull my eyes away.” To prove his point, he drags his gaze slowly up to my face and raises his eyebrows. “Is she still paying attention?”

I look over my shoulder and catch her staring at us from across the room. “Yes.”

“Perfect. Maybe you weren’t completely wrong about this.” He leans a touch closer. The guys are still talking—something about a wizard spell—and I’m assuming it’s rude to ignore them, but it’s hard to divide my attention between the game, monitoring Sophia, and talking to Nathan. Especially when his glasses have slipped down his nose again.

“You didn’t tell me your favorite color yet.”

I reach out and gently slide his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. He blinks in surprise. It feels weirdly intimate to have my hands so close to his face.

“Your glasses do that a lot. You should probably get them refitted. And if I had to pick, I guess I would go with red. It’s so vibrant.”

His gaze falls back to my red jeans and I cross my legs, trying desperately to come across as nonchalant. It’s so weird to have Nathan looking at me like this, but I have to remember why we’re doing it. And that I’m the one who convincedhim.

“Red is my favorite color too.” He smiles and picks out two red M&M’s for me.

“Uh,hello? Sol and Elphaba? Are you two still with us?” Lucas gapes at us from across the table.

“Yep,” I say quickly. “Ready for fighting. Or singing. Whatever the group needs.”

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