“Have a good practice,” Mom calls, and pulls back onto the road to take me to Kashvi’s house. We’re having our first session—which means my first livestream—and my stomach has been churning about it all day. (And yesterday, too, honestly.) But this news about Grandma has distracted me.
I lean forward so my head is between their seats. “Is Grandma actually going to be okay?”
Dad gives me a soft smile. He is Grandma’s only son and they’ve always been close, even though we didn’t see her a lot when we lived hours away.
“Yeah, she’s feeling well enough that she even went to play pickleball this morning, despite my asking her to skip it.” He gives me a good-natured eye roll. “She’s a trouper.”
“Do you think she’ll agree to move?”
“Well…not at first.” He chuckles. “She’s never been one to do anything if it wasn’t her idea. But with time, she’ll come to see it’s for the best. No more stairs, no house maintenance to worry about, and she’ll be surrounded by new friends. She’ll love it.”
I’m not as convinced. It seems pretty harsh to make Grandma move when she’s not ready. She is an adult. But it sounds like one way or another, this is happening.
A few minutes later, we arrive at Kashvi’s house. “Should I text when I’m done?” I ask.
“We promised Andrew we’d watch his games later today,” Mom says. She takes a big sip of her coffee. “He has a doubleheader. Do you think one of your new friends could drop you off?”
I push away a flash of jealousy that they’re too busy with Andrew to come pick me up. I guess if I wanted to, I could ask them to watch our livestream, but it’s terrifying enough knowing that random strangers will be watching me soon. I’d completely clam up if I knew my parents were watching as well.
“Yeah, I’m sure I can get a ride. Wish Andrew luck.”
“Okay, have fun!” Mom says with obvious relief.
I climb out and wave as they drive away. Logan walks toward me on the sidewalk but does nothing to acknowledge me other than bob his head in my direction. Ugh, so he’s sticking with the cold demeanor.
Maybe I shouldn’t let him get to me, but it irritates me that he’s switched to acting so unfriendly and aloof. How are we supposed to be a real group if he won’t even acknowledge my presence? And wasn’thethe one who said group dynamics were so important?
“Hey,” I say defiantly.
He stops and turns his focus entirely on me. It’s warmer today than the typical gray February day in Ohio, and rather than wearing a coat, Logan is wearing a blue flannel shirt over a T-shirt. The shirt is snug and does nothing to hide the definition in his arms and shoulders. His brown hair looks lighter in the sun, and it swoops just slightly over his left eye in a way that’s almost begging for me to reach out and brush it up onto his forehead.
Basically, Logan is too hot for his own good (or mine) and I should have let him ignore me.
“How are you, Quinn?” he says softly. His gaze pins mein place like I’m an insect he’s just stuck to a board for a science project.
“I’m…good. Fine.” I glare at him so he can’t guess the thoughts rolling around in my mind.
“Excited for this afternoon?”
“I am.”
“Good. So am I.”
We stand there another second, staring at each other with nothing to say, before he turns away and marches through the front door. He doesn’t bother to knock, nor does he announce himself walking into their house. It feels rude to me, but I follow him anyway. Downstairs, the others are speaking in hushed tones. A nervous energy vibrates through the room, or maybe that’s just vibrating out of me and filling the space.
Sanjiv looks up in surprise as we enter. “Did you two come together?”
“No,” I blurt out.
“We got here at the same time,” Logan explains.
“This is going to be an interesting campaign,” Sloane says, looking back and forth between us.
“Can you give us any hints about what you have coming up?” Mark asks Sloane. He’s already at his seat with a half-full two-liter of Mountain Dew next to him. “You’re not going to try killing off Rolo in the first session, are you?”
Sloane mimes zipping their lips. “It wouldn’t be a good session if you knew what was coming.”
“Well, whatever you have planned, it won’t work. My newest dice came in.” He holds them up for the group. “Completely clear acrylic this time. No bubbles.”