Breaking character won’t ruin the game, of course, but you may enjoy yourself more if you let go.
—The Haunted Place Player Guide
My long-awaited date with Marc finally arrived the night before my flight to Mexico. We’d texted back and forth so long, it seemed like I’d met him more than a handful of times. My nervousness ratcheted up at the idea of this feeling more like a third or fourth date than a first one. What if he expected me to sleep with him, like so many other guys? We might eventually get to that point, but I had zero intention of doing anything more than a goodnight kiss on our first date. I’d be horribly disappointed if Marc expected more. Still, I’d enjoyed our conversations so far, and I wanted to give him a chance.
He was, after all, the guy who sparked this whole “rebuilding my confidence” journey. More importantly, he didn’t insult me or send a dick pic within minutes of initiating contact. A low bar, sure, but, well…not everyone managed to clear it.
These thoughts swirled through my head while I waited outside the Harvard Square T stop for Marc. He’d offered to pick me up at the store after my shift, but I felt more comfortable on neutral turf. Where I wouldn’t have to answer questions from my absolutely lovely and very-interested-in-my-welfare bosses. The longer I stood there, though, the more I regretted this decision. Game On! had heat. At the very least, I should have suggested meeting at the nearby comic book store or the restaurant, so hypothermia wouldn’t set in before my date arrived.
Luckily, he emerged from the underground stairway just as I started to contemplate texting an alternate place to meet. A huge smile crossed his face when he saw me, which made me feel good about taking the extra time to look nice. Sure, he liked what he saw in the store, but a real date was different.
“Hey,” he said. “It’s good to see you.”
“You, too.” I fell into step beside him. “Ready for dinner?”
“Absolutely. I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”
How sweet. Suddenly, I was glad Gwen pushed me to give Marc a chance. I’d have been too oblivious to encourage him without her help. “Me too.”
“I brought you something,” he said, holding out a small bag.
His shy smile and the way he kept his gaze low warmed my heart. After going out with so many arrogant, overly confident guys, I found Marc’s sweetness refreshing. Plus, he’d brought me a gift! I couldn’t remember the last time a guy brought me a gift, not counting the stuff Lucas bought with stolen funds. Most of which he got in order to mold me into his image of the perfect future wife: expensive perfume, cashmere sweaters, jewelry. All stuff that suited his tastes, not mine.
Curiously, I took the bag and peered inside. A handful of small objects lay inside, in a variety of shapes. A smile broke out across my face. “You bought me dice?”
“Well, a corsage seemed cliché.”
“Absolutely. Dice are perfect! Thank you. I love them.” These weren’t all normal dice. They ranged from four- to twenty-sided, from what I could see, in a variety of colors. Impulsively, I leaned forward and kissed his cheek. He turned bright red. Then a thought hit me. “Hold on. I didn’t see you buy these at the store.”
“I went in on your day off. Don’t worry, I didn’t buy from a competitor.”
“That’s good, or this date might end awfully early.” I smiled to show I was teasing before changing the subject. “My best friends said this is their favorite restaurant. Good thing, because I’m starving.”
“Awesome. How’s the play-testing going? That new game?”
“Oh, it’s so much fun!” I said. “Of course, it’s hard.”
“That’s what she said,” he replied smoothly.
I giggled. He sounded just like Nathan. I wondered if Nathan ever showed up on a date with dice as a gift or quoted The Office to a girl. Not that it mattered. I wasn’t thinking about him, even if we both loved “that’s what she said” jokes. So did Marc, after all. My date.
Pasting a smile on my face, I vowed to give this guy a real chance. It wasn’t his fault he wasn’t Nathan. He was cute, nice, and we clearly had the same taste in television shows. Successful relationships had been based on less. For all I knew, Marc could be my soul mate.
The rest of the way to the restaurant, we spoke animatedly about The Haunted Place, although I carefully avoided spoilers. When Marc expressed interest in joining one of the other tester groups, he seemed sincere. If I’d thought he was doing it to suck up to me, I’d have told him Shannon didn’t need the help, but instead promised to have her text him.
At the restaurant, Marc stepped in front of me to open the door. I bristled for a second before he stepped back and held it open for me. The first of all my dates to do that. Maybe chivalry wasn’t dead. When we got to our table, he pulled out a chair, then stood behind it, hands resting on the top rung.
“Is something wrong?” I asked.
“No.” A look of confusion crossed his face. “This is your chair. Have a seat.”
“You pulled out my chair for me?” My whole life, I couldn’t think of a single time anyone had done that. Such a small gesture, but so sweet.
His face turned bright red. “I know it’s old-fashioned. Sorry.”
“Please don’t apologize.” Putting my hand over his, I squeezed it briefly before taking the seat. “It’s sweet. I like it. Just unexpected. Most guys don’t think about that stuff.”
“Maybe you’ve been dating the wrong guys.”
“Maybe I have.”
We slid into a comfortable silence as he took his seat and the waiter filled our water glasses. Once we were alone, I asked how he liked the games I picked out for him, and the conversation took off. When the waiter came to take our order, we hadn’t even opened our menus. It was the most comfortable I’d felt with a man since, well…Since hanging out with Nathan.
By all accounts, Marc and I shared a perfect first date. He was a nice guy. We’d probably have a lot of fun playing games together. The conversation flowed easily, and he made me laugh. We could be good together. We could hit it off and probably date for a while. He wouldn’t try to control me the way Lucas had. He didn’t bat an eye when I ordered a cheeseburger instead of a salad. He didn’t give backhanded compliments. I really liked him. Marc was safe, comfortable. A smart choice. He wasn’t Nathan, but that wasn’t his fault.
Why was dating so difficult? There had to be some way to shake my feelings for Nathan. Unfortunately, I didn’t know how. Gwen would have told me that the fastest way to get over one guy was to get on top of another, that wasn’t my style. I’d only ever slept with Lucas, even more than a year after our breakup. I liked Marc, but needed more time to see if something real developed before we got physical.
These thoughts consumed me on our walk back to the T after Marc paid for dinner, so much so that I missed whatever he talked about on the trip. Thankfully, his story didn’t require input from me beyond the occasional nod or sound of agreement. If he noticed my distraction, he didn’t comment. Maybe he thought I was nervous about the inevitable good-night kiss. Which, now that I thought about it…Not counting drunken hookups at gamer conferences, my last first kiss had occurred during the second Bush administration. What if I’d forgotten how?
“I have to catch a bus,” he said when we arrived down the stairs, gesturing to the tunnel across from us.
Uh-oh. With those six simple words, he brought the end of the date from a vague down-the-road idea to an immediate, concrete concept. Which meant the end-of-the-night kiss was coming sooner than expected.
A million thoughts whirled through my mind. Why did I have garlic mashed potatoes with dinner? Why didn’t I brush my teeth before leaving the restaurant? WHY hadn’t I said anything in response to Marc’s comment about leaving? This silence grew weirder by the second.
Coming to a halt, I turned to face him with a smile that hopefully looked encouraging rather than constipated. “Thank you for dinner. I had a really nice time.”
“Me too. I’d like to see you again, if that’s okay.”
“I’d like that,” I said.
He leaned forward and kissed me gently. His mouth felt warm and soft against mine. Vaguely pleasant. Before I could wonder whether to part my lips, it ended. A perfectly nice, if unexciting first kiss. From a perfectly nice, not-terribly-exciting guy. But first kisses could be awkward. Things could get better in time.
The announcer informed us that Marc’s bus was pulling into the station. As he jogged toward his stop, I watched, one hand to my mouth. After a string of terrible first dates, I couldn’t believe things had gone this well. Part of me almost expected Marc to be a serial killer, or a nose picker, a racist, or a guy who made fat jokes. But I was glad my inner optimist had talked me into going on the date. While I didn’t feel sparks flying yet, I liked Marc. I couldn’t wait to see him again. Surely, once the initial awkwardness passed, the passion would come.
* * * *
The next morning found me at Logan International Airport, wrapped in about seven sweaters and carrying a bag not large enough to hold any of them once I arrived. For the next four days, I intended to wear nothing but bikinis, shorts, tank tops, and an enormous smile. Average high temperatures during the day in Boston in February hovered around 37 degrees. In Playa del Carmen? Seventy-five. As much as I loved Boston and ice-skating in the Common and hot cocoa and giant sweaters, winter lasted a long time. By the time Valentine’s Day rolled around, my thoroughly chilled blood welcomed the opportunity to embrace the sun.
My flight left at six-twenty in the morning, so the international terminal remained fairly quiet. Many people slept in the uncomfortable plastic chairs. Not for the first time, I silently thanked Gwen and Cody for getting married on the eastern side of Mexico and not, say, Hawaii. Both excellent places, but I’d definitely pick a four-hour direct flight over twelve-plus hours with connections. Especially when I’d only gotten a few days off. Spending half of that flying didn’t sound awesome, but as one of Gwen’s BFFs and co–maid of honor, I’d have been there.
Shannon was supposed to fly with me, but switched to a later flight at the last minute because her nana needed to see her doctor. Part of the reason Shannon got such cheap rent on the two-family she lived in was that Nana gave her a huge break in exchange for helping out when needed. Besides, the rest of their family lived in Florida. The appointment was probably nothing serious, but she wanted to be safe. She planned to join me soon.
I’d offered to take a later flight, too, but Shannon wouldn’t hear of it.
“What if the doctor finds something serious?” she’d asked.
“Then I’ll be here to support you,” I’d pointed out.
“Don’t be silly. You need to be with Gwen and Cody. They can’t lose both maids of honor. If anything goes wrong, I’ll text you.”
My gut instinct had been to keep arguing, but she made an excellent point. On top of that, I couldn’t afford the flight change fee, and the later flight cost over a hundred dollars more. Begging money from Dad to cover the flight had been humiliating enough, even though he could easily afford it. I couldn’t ask for more, and there wasn’t much in my bank account. The assistant U.S. attorney had confiscated my credit cards until my probation ended, so I had limited options. All part of my ex’s lovely parting gift.
So there I sat, alone, bored, and only about half awake, waiting for my flight, wishing my friends were with me. Gwen and Cody went out early to make sure everything was in place for the ceremony, check out the resort, and enjoy some alone time before everyone arrived. Nathan flew out yesterday morning, along with Tyler and John, the groomsmen. As I sat in the gate area of the airport, drinking stale coffee and wishing I’d bought a muffin instead of a low-cal breakfast wrap, they were probably just starting to think about going to bed after a night of partying.
My vision blurred too much to focus on the book I brought. My eyes grew heavy; my head started to droop to one side. Then a beep from my phone caused me to lurch awake, nearly falling out of my seat in the process.
Marc: Good morning! Hope you’re already awake and at the airport. :-)
Me: Do I get credit for 1/2?
Marc: Only if it’s the airport.
Me: Boarding soon. What are you doing up so early?
Marc: Conference call with London. Just wanted to wish you a good flight.
My heart warmed at his words. Gwen had been right; there were still some good guys if you looked for them. As I tapped back a thank-you, the gate agent started the boarding process. Since I didn’t have Gwen’s airline status, I stood with boarding group six. It would be a long while before I could even see the Jetway. Ah, well. I put in my headphones and prepared to wait.
Someone poked me in the back. For a split second, I thought Marc had booked tickets on my flight. Which would be cool, but a little weird after only two dates. No such luck. The Poker was a total stranger: about my height, blond hair, blue eyes, orangey spray-on tan. In February, he wore board shorts, flip-flops, and a muscle shirt.
Really, dude? I know we’re going to Mexico, but it’s currently 25 degrees in Boston, and the Jetway isn’t heated. Instead of offering my opinion on his wardrobe, I figured he’d poked me by mistake and turned back toward the front of the line.
Again, a finger jabbed me in the back. This time, I spun faster, removing my headphones. “Did you need something?”
“I said ‘hey.’ You didn’t answer.”
“I’m listening to music,” I said. “Do I know you?”
“Not yet, but you’re going to want to.” He winked at me.
Ugh. What did he think, he could poke me in the back, say “hey,” and then I’d beg him to join the Mile High Club with me? Lucas was never a great romantic, but at least he’d never jabbed me with a finger—twice—when he wanted something. The fact that this guy made me look at my ex in a positive light only made me less inclined to talk to him.
“Thanks, but I’m not interested.”
“Maybe not yet, but we’ve got a long flight ahead of us,” he said.
“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I intend to spend the entire flight sleeping.” This guy deserved a stronger put-down, but it wasn’t in my nature to be rude, even when justified.
He chuckled. “Sweet! Then I guess you could say we’ll be sleeping together.”
I rolled my eyes. “Sure. You, me, and the two hundred other people on this plane.”
As if I hadn’t said anything, he asked, “Do you like to party?”
Thankfully, the gate agent called my boarding group. The line shuffled forward. I shrugged before turning away yet again, allowing him to interpret the gesture however he wanted. Replacing my headphones, I started toward the door leading to the plane and freedom from this jerk.
On such a full flight, with any luck, he’d sit far away, next to someone else he could bother for the rest of the flight. Or, um, he and his seatmate could fall in love and have babies or something. As long as it didn’t involve me, whatever.
The Poker fell into step with me when the Jetway widened.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he said. “Do you like to party?”
“I like hanging out with my friends, playing games. Sometimes we’ll go to a party, sure, but it’s mostly smaller, more intimate gatherings.”
Immediately, I regretted using the word “intimate” when talking to this Neanderthal. His eyes lit up. “I’d like to play some intimate games with you, if you know what I mean.”
The entire flight knew what he meant. At that crude comment, my patience snapped. “Does this act work for you? Are there women who find you charming? Go talk to one of them.”
“I’m talking to you,” he said. “You’ll come around. They always do.”
I rolled my eyes at him, put my headphones back in again, and blasted the music before turning away. I knew this guy’s type. He was hot enough to get most girls, and he didn’t want a real relationship. He didn’t put any effort into making a connection. According to Gwen, these guys tended to be terrible in bed because they figured their good looks should be enough to get any woman off.
No thanks, for a thousand reasons. I preferred my men less crass, more polite…completely the opposite of this guy. Thank goodness I’d met Marc.
When the line finally reached my seat, I shoved my bag into the overhead bin and threw myself into the row.
“Excuse me.”
I sighed heavily. For the past nineteen rows, I’d been pretending the Poker didn’t exist.
“What?” My voice came out shorter than intended, but I couldn’t even with this jerk.
He motioned toward the middle seat. “That’s me. Earlier, I asked the stewardess to put me next to the prettiest girl flying alone. There weren’t a lot of empty seats, so it came down to you and this grandma. I picked you, although I prefer girls who spend a bit more time on themselves in the morning.”
“Gee, I’m so flattered.”
My sarcasm was lost on him. “You should be. Anyway, so here we are.”
Groaning, I silently cursed Shannon for rescheduling at the last minute. It was going to be a very long flight.