Page 82 of Sort of Seeing Someone

“Someone fromX-Men?”

Before I have a chance to decline yet again, Nate’s girlfriend comes into frame.

“Ready, babe? It’s time to suit up. The games are about to begin.”

“Have fun today,Moonie. I look forward to seeing your costume, whatever it may be.”

At that, Nate tosses a thick black cape over his shoulders and ties it around his neck before trotting away.

Distracted by Nate’s impromptu outfit change, I fail to realize the people behind him have also suited up. The girls are in full-blown renaissance attire—puffy ornate frocks with big, colorful hats. The boys are wearing everything fromchainmailshirts to full-face medieval knight armor. They have shields and what I hope are just prop swords.

“Hello, M’lady. I’m Sir Wellington Gables. Welcome to Ambrosia,” a guy says to me as he takes a seat on the ground to lace up a pair of tattered black boots.

“I thought this was…Bohemian National Cemetery?”

“Shhh,” he says, holding his pointer finger up to his lips. “The clock has started.Thisis now the mythical land of Ambrosia for the next two hours. Are you getting into character, or what?”

“I…I don’t think I’m following.”

“Is this your first time or something?”

Before I have a chance to ask “first time doingwhat?”, Sir Wellington Gables grabs his nearby shield and sword and hops to his feet. He yells “Tally-ho!” and charges toward Nate and the other guys.

The only thing more difficult to escape right now would be getting out of a stuck elevator. Except in that situation, I could call Ollie for an out. Here, I’m alone. Or am I…

“Why haven’t you been answering your phone?” an out-of-breath Angeline asks as she emerges from between two giant headstones.

“It never rang,” I say, taking it out of my purse to investigate. Turns out when I went to shut off location services, I accidentally put the whole thing on airplane mode. Whoops.

“I was trying to warn you,” she says, clutching her hand to her chest. “This isn’t the secret meet-up I was thinking it was going to be.”

“You don’t say.”

I gesture toward the graveyard where Nate is now “playing dead” while his girlfriend sobs, tending to his fake abdominal stab wound.

“Nate and I started following each other on social media after he left my shop this morning. Then I saw he posted a picture of him and his girlfriend’s costumes and tagged it with the caption, ‘Excited for an afternoon full of LARPing.’”

“What is LARPing?”

“Live Action Role Playing. It’s like acting out a video game in real life. You see, I realized him purchasing a goblet from me wasn’t for potion like my intuition thought. Turns out, it was for his girlfriend’s costume. See her over there drinking from it? She’s supposed to be an heiress to a fictional vineyard called Ambrosia. Per Nate’s post, the story is, Ambrosia is under attack by rival villains who want the land to build luxury castles.”

“So, thisisn’ta meet-up for people with Exexveei?”

“Not at all. This is a hardcore LARP sesh.”

“Next question: how the hell do we get out of here?”

“It won’t be easy,” she confesses. “But pretending we’re elves is probably going to be part of it. And unfortunately, that’s not the only slightly-uncomfortable thing I’m going to have to ask of you this fine afternoon.”

“I cannot do a Scottish accent, Angeline.”

“This is a favor outside of Ambrosia. Back in the real world, I’m trying to enhance my Reiki certifications—take things to the next level. But I need to practice on a very specific subject.”

After that, she grabs my arm and we dart behind another headstone—playing Frogger as we inconspicuously excuse ourselves from the medieval times.

“Meaning?” I keep my voice hushed, so as not to give up our location.

“A male.”

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