Page 8 of Love is a Game

Pen lives on fruit and copious amounts of gelato in the summer, every form of meat and potatoes in winter, and craves pizza and ice cream when she’s on her period.

If she’s been bingeing French films—or anything vaguely European—she’ll eat her weight in soft cheese. She skips breakfast but loves brunch, and adores early dinners—which she turns into marathon events, hopping between courses and venues.

When we moved to New York, she swapped pub crawls for food crawls, dragging me all over the city for dim sum, tapas, and whatever obscure gem she’d unearthed that week.

“Right,” Stella says, eyes narrowing, lining up her next shot. “Not menstruating, no French movie, autumn, early evening?”

It blurts out before I can stop myself. “The divey hole-in-the-wall on the edge of the Garment District for steamed pork buns…but only after a dirty martini at Dutch Fred’s.”

Stella’s deadpan look could rival Emma Stone’s best delivery.

“So what?” I scoff, trying to regain ground. “It doesn’t mean I’m in love with someone just because I know what they like to eat. Besides, I know all about your keto diet so—”

“Paleo.” Stella’s eyes glimmer with something sharper now—pain edged with triumph.

“Yeah, that’s what I meant. Paleo,” I say lamely.

“And the food question was only because I don’t want to test you on the ones that would hurt a whole lot more.” Stella swipes a finger under her eyes. “But I bet you’d ace those, too. Like how many different smiles Penelope has—and the one she keeps just for you.”

“What? She doesn’t—” I start, but the words choke off.

Because, of course, I know.

A flood of Pen’s expressions races through my mind. All falling away to the smile she gave me just this morning. The one loaded with possibilities. Daring me to follow her anywhere—to unknown adventures…and the kind ofalone timethat wrecks furniture.

Stella’s expression is smug and knowing. “Oh yes, you do. Because you have one just for her, too,” she says bitterly. “Just like how your voice changes, your eyes, your whole energy—everything in you lights up when she’s around.”

She slowly shakes her head. “It’s not anything obscure, Tuck. It’s fucking obvious. To everyone but you.”

“Stella—”

“No! Stop pretending otherwise,” she spits out. “Do you remember how close we came to moving to LA? How Brady and Mason pretty much had you convinced?”

I shrug. “Maybe.”

“Then Penelope appeared, and suddenly you had a bunch of reasons why you couldn’t do it! Even though you complain about the New York rat race all the time. And you know what I heard Brady say about that?” she demands. “When you were off with Penelope choosing wine or whatever?”

“Brady?” I grimace. “You know what he’s like—”

“Yes. He’shonest,” Stella contends. “He tells it like it is. And he said to Mason: ‘Sure, LA might suit Tuck way better—but he wouldneverleave Penelope behind.’”

She roughly hitches her bag and wipes away a tear.

“So here’s my last words to you, Tuck Allen. Pull your head out of your ass and do something about it! Make sure I’m the last person who walks away with a broken heart because you’re too stupid or stubborn to see that you’re madly in love with Penelope!”

Then she leaves.

The door slams. She’s gone.

And it’s all for the best—if that delusion makes it easier for her to walk away from our relationship, then she can believe whatever she likes.

I head to the kitchen and down a mineral water, Stella’s crazy logic still rattling around my head.

Fine—what I know about Penelope Miller could fill a book. We’ve been constants in each other’s lives since grade school. Back when she lived next door and started hanging out with me and my best buddy, Brady. Other friends came and went over the years…somehow Pen and I stuck, no matter what.

We even ended up in New York together for college and tech school studies—all the gang from Blue Mountain Lake: me, Pen, Brady, and Mason, too.

Brady bailed pretty quickly to head to LA, and Mason powered through his law degree before joining him. But Penelope? She’s always belonged to New York. I can’t picture her fitting into the West Coast lifestyle like the others.

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