Page 117 of Nerdplay
“Because I don’t.” His lip curls in annoyance.
I try to make light of it, so he doesn’t feel embarrassed. “Hey, there’s no blue ribbon for escaping, but I may have a penis plushie to offer you as a consolation prize.”
He doesn’t respond, which only makes me talk more. The less okay he seems, the more I want to make him okay.
“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” I tell him. “It isn’t a sign of weakness or anything.”
If looks could kill, I’d be splat on the ground right now. I decide to stop talking before I make things worse.
“I said I’m fine. Let’s forget it.”
I can tell this is more than the fact that he ‘lost’ a game. He truly felt unsafe in that room when he was unable to leave. I wonder if it brought up his feelings of helplessness that he endured while trapped in the back seat of his parents’ car, suffering through their litany of criticisms.
Then he adds a gut-punching statement. “This was a mistake.”
My body tenses like a seventh-grade grammar lesson. “This, meaning the Escape Room?”
He gazes at me with an uncomfortable intensity. The kind that doesn’t send a pleasurable zing down my spine.
“I see.” My voice is quiet even to my own ears.
“You don’t really know me, Cricket,” he says.
“I thought we were working on that.”
“I’m a guy in an overpriced suit and shoes. I belong in a high-rise making deals, not in the middle of nowhere trying to act like I’m one of you. I have no business being here.” He pulls himself upright. “Correction, business is the only reason I’m here, but you already knew that.”
“It may be the reason you showed up, but I know it changed for you, Charlie. You changed.”
“No, that’s where you’re wrong. I’m incapable of change. They’re going to have to pry these Gucci loafers off my cold, dead feet. You and I… We wouldn’t work in the real world.”
“This is the real world, Charlie.”
“It might be yours, but it isn’t mine.”
His words sting. When he makes a break for it, I resist the urge to run after him. The Escape Room clearly dredged up whatever fears he’s been harboring. He needs time to recalibrate, that’s all, and I vow to give it to him.
As challenging as it is to carry on with my day, I make the rounds, first stopping in the cafeteria to check on meal prep with Bernie, then moving on to the group activities. Fan fiction and DnD are going strong. By the time I see Patrick among the outdoor enthusiasts, it’s too late; I’ve been spotted.
I force myself to continue to the picnic tables. “Hey, everyone. How’s it going?”
“Patrick was complaining about Charlie,” Angela says. Her lips thin. “Gee, I can’t imagine why.”
Patrick shades his eyes as though he can see the object of his derision in the distance. “What’s he doing at a place like this? He wouldn’t know Chewbacca if the Wookie walked up and bit him in the face.”
“Which a Wookie wouldn’t do,” Stefan adds, brows drawn together.
Angela shrugs her delicate shoulders. “Charlie fits in perfectly fine. We’re all big fans.”
“You, I can understand,” Patrick tells her. “Although he seems a little young for you. He’ll outlive you.”
Stefan winces. “Ouch. A direct hit.”
Angela licks her lips, appearing to choose her words carefully. “It might surprise you to learn that I don’t wish death on all my husbands, only the ones I dislike.”
“Charlie’s a lawyer whose client wants to buy the camp,” Olivia offers.
“You’re kidding.” Patrick’s gaze swings to me. “How much are they offering?”
