The sign that hangs over the parking lot buzzes with a neon glow, and though the lights of the firstMaare out,Ma’sstill gets the point across. When we pull in to park, I’m amused by how much the diner looks like—well, exactly how you’d expect it to. Through the large windows surrounding the building on all sides I see shiny red vinyl booths occupied by high schoolers sharing milkshakes with four red straws, truck drivers making late-night pit stops, and a few sleepy-looking families. Hanging over the double doors of the entrance is a hand-painted retro-style curvy waitress with curly gray hair and a wide grin.Mama’s,it reads in looping red-and-chrome lettering.Welcome Home!
The door squeaks loudly as I pull it open, and from behind me Noah reaches up to hold it ajar. Twangy country music drawls through the speakers, though two teens in the corner jam their fingers at the buttons on an old jukebox in a doomed effort to change the song.
A middle-aged waitress with wiry dyed-blond hair smiles at us as we walk in. “Evening, sweethearts. Table for two?”
“Yes, please,” Noah says.
She leads us to a booth next to a window, where Noah and I settle noisily across from each other on the cracked seats. The waitress—whose name tag readsCrystal—sets two spiral-bound menus and glasses of water on the table. “You two let me know when you’re ready, okay?”
I take my bendy straw from its wrapper and fiddle with the flexible bit before sticking it into my glass. Noah smooths out the laminated menu across the table like a treasure map, tracing down the path to paradise with his pointer finger.
“Marshmallow swirl pancakes? Chocolate chip and mint pancakes?Fruity pebble pancakes?” He scrubs a hand down his beard before looking back to me, his eyes wild and bright. “Fuck meup,Sadie, I don’t know where to go from here. There’re too many options.”
“Let’s each pick one and we’ll share,” I say. “Try a little bit of everything. I want the cinnamon roll pancakes.” As he scours the options, I eye the group of teenagers in the back sharing their milkshake. One of the boys is holding the stem of a cherry just out of reach of a girl trying to catch it between her teeth. “Can we get a milkshake, too?” I ask.
“You bet we can.”
“What’s your favorite flavor?”
“Vanilla.”
I turn a deadpan stare on him. “Bit basic, isn’t it?”
“It’s a classic for a reason.”
“Didn’t peg you as avanillakind of dude, Noah.”
“Oh, Sadie, that’s unfair.” He reclines into the booth, draping his arms over the back. His eyes crinkle at the corners. “I am anything but.” The way he says it with such casually assured confidence makes the sides of my neck flare with sudden warmth.
Two can play at coy.
“Is that why you wanted to play a bard in the game?”
“What do you mean?” He feigns innocence, but I don’t trust his crooked smile for a second. He knows exactly what I mean. He just wants me to say it out loud.
“Come on, Noah. This might be my first time playing, but bardic reputations extend far past the realms of D&D. Bards are persuasive, suave, charismatic, flirty—” I’m not quite ready to sayhorny,but it’s true. Bards are undoubtedly the horniest class. They’re musicians, but much of their magic relies on how well they can engage with their audience, entrance a crowd, or tug at someone’s emotions—so of course they are associated with lust, love, and everything in between. “Lots of people play bards so that they can fuck their way across the kingdom and try to seduce the villain into letting the party run free. So, no. Bards aren’tvanilla.”
Noah’s eyes sparkle with mischief as he opens his mouth to say something—then closes it as Crystal approaches again. “You ready now, dears?”
He looks toward me as if for permission. I gesture for him to continue, and he leaps into our order: cinnamon roll pancakes, strawberry shortcake pancakes, and a vanilla shake with chocolate syrup and two straws. It’s a fair middle ground.
After Crystal leaves, Noah leans forward and braces his forearms on the table, hands folded before him. “Would you believe me if I said I just wanted an excuse to bring the ukulele to D&D?” The light from the lamp overhead catches on the shine of his one earring and the brightness of his grin.
“No.” I pause. “Though I was very impressed by how well you played it during the wedding scene,” I say dryly.
He barks out a laugh, immediately clocking my sarcasm. “I learned the Beatles chords for the first time the night before. I think Jules was clenching her fists underneath the table, it was so bad.”
“It was cute. Good effort.”
His grin softens into a smile. After a moment he rolls his left shoulder in a shrug. “Truthfully, I just wanted an excuse to play a fun, boisterous character who would be outgoing and easy to start conversations with. I didn’t know any of you guys, y’know, coming into this. I wanted to make a character who was approachable.”
Admittedly, it’s a good strategy. “Not one to play the brooding, misunderstood sad boy?”
That earns me a flat stare from Noah. I’m not used to seeing his features so serious, and it catches me off guard. “There’s literally not a worse character personality type to play in D&D, and I’ll die on that hill.”
“So you have played D&D.”
“Not exactly. I’ve played other tabletop roleplaying games, like Pathfinder and World of Darkness. I also did a good bit of roleplaying onLegends of Lore,and in online forums and servers.” He spreads his hands wide. “So I’m familiar with the type. Plenty of sad boys all over the internet.”
