As Morgan goes to order Jules’s iced mocha, Jules turns her warm smile to me. “So, Sadie—what’s new? How are you liking Texas?”
The subject change is an out, and after a moment’s hesitation, I take it. I’ve been looking forward to this girls’ day out all week; the puzzle of Noah can wait.
There had been a brief moment this morning when I’d worried that today’s hangout was going to be awkward. That maybe we were better off just being buds who met once a week, forging strong bonds between our D&D characters but holding one another at a distance as soon as our game was over. I wasn’t sure that Morgan and Jules would have as much fun out with me as they might with a pile of dice forming a wall between us.
But they’re quick to prove me wrong.
Rays of sunshine shift and span across the bookshelves as we chat from afternoon into early evening. I tell them how surprised I am by how much I’ve been enjoying Texas, and they quiz me about what it’s like to live in the big city. “I’ve begged my husband to take me for years,” Jules says, sighing wistfully. “I’m desperate to visit Broadway at least once before I die.” I even catch her and Morgan up to speed about my current job—or lack thereof. They’re sympathetic to my complicated feelings and excited to hear about my part-time project with Alchemist.
“That’s where Noah works, isn’t it?” Jules says musingly.
Morgan flashes me a sharp smile before seamlessly steering the conversation in a different direction.
We ask Jules about her family, and she enthusiastically gushes about her three young children and recounts her romantic saga with her high school sweetheart turned husband. Apparently she had been a stay-at-home mom up until last year, teaching private music lessons out of her living room until the school finally won her over when the previous orchestra teacher retired. “I got connected with Liam through the after-school clubs,” she explains. “I run a little jazz band, and he runs, like, three other clubs. Chess club, book club, debate…” She releases a whistling sigh. “I’d heard he was thinking about a D&D club, too, but wouldn’t start it until the school year. I didn’t want to wait that long.”
As we talk, we have to pause every so often whenever someone recognizes Morgan. She greets customers, booksellers, and even people she recognizes from college, and I swear she knows almost all of their names. “How is your partner, Eric?” she asks, or “Did you finish your thesis you were telling me about?” She’s warm and friendly, and her laughs are loud and infectious. Morgan reminds me of the popular girls from high school. Not in the gorgeous stuck-up bitch sort of way, but in the I-can-make-friends-with-anyone and I-know-everyone-in-town way.
Only after she’s asked me and Jules a thousand questions does she finally talk more about herself. How she worries about the store’s finances, misses her brother who’s traveling abroad, and hopes to host a book festival in Heller someday. How she’s helping another bookseller with his script for a slice-of-life short film while also trying to work on her own novel. Her hands are in dozens of projects, yet somehow she still finds time for D&D.
Even as the sky darkens outside the window, I find myself hoping for an excuse to stay longer. There’s a coziness to their company that I can’t quite get over. It’s not the comfort of a fifteen-year friendship like I have with Liam or the butterfly-inducing hangouts with Noah, but something different altogether.
As the conversation fades, I exhale a small sigh and begin to pack my things. Jules is staring at her phone, looking thoughtful. Her eyes bounce between me and Morgan curiously.
“What is it?” Morgan asks.
“My mom’s just asked if she can keep the kids tonight for a sleepover.” Jules delicately swirls her straw around her cup and sips up the last of her coffee. “What do you girls say we get out of here and treat ourselves to something a littlestronger?”
“But why Kain?” I ask.
Two hours later we’re sitting on the deck at Alchemist, three drinks deep. The sun is a smudge of dark pink on the horizon, and the lights strung above us seem more luminous than usual. The air still holds some of the weight left over from the day’s heat, but it’s not unbearable. It’s a busy Saturday night at the brewery, and the conversations surrounding our table make for pleasant, buzzing background noise. I am blissfully, tipsily contented.
Jules is bopping her head in time to the music flowing from the speaker, counting each measure under her breath. When sherealizes I’m talking to her, she shakes herself out of her daze and offers me a sheepish smile. “Sorry, what did you ask?”
“Why Kain?” I repeat. I splay my palms out on the sticky table. “Jules, I’ve only known you for a month, but you’re maybe the sweetest person I’ve ever met in my life. So, help me understand…” I grin, waiting for Morgan to stop giggling into her fist before I continue. “Why are you playing a bloodthirsty, hellish,ragingbarbarian?”
Even now Jules looks like a total sweetheart. She shyly regards the two of us from under thick lashes, her hands clasped over her heart. Her curls bounce and her tulip-shaped earrings sway as she shakes her head.
Morgan and I watch as her mouth forms words, but I can’t hear what she says. She’s speaking too softly, and laughter from the neighboring table smothers her words.
“What?” Morgan barks.
“I said, sometimes I just get soangry!” Jules’s already high-pitched voice goes up an extra octave as she throws her hands upward. The couple behind us look alarmed at the outburst, and the old man sitting by himself shoots Jules a withering glare.
But instead of withdrawing into her shell, Jules presses on. “Last semester, I had a mother threaten to sue the school because her son didn’t make first chair cello. Last week, my daughter did a beautiful drawing of a dragon. On my living room wall. Inlipstick.And this afternoon, my husband—my wonderful, handsome, talented husband—asked me for the hundredth time to remind him where I put the kids’ overnight bag.” Jules grips Morgan’s forearm. “It was in the same place it always is,” she stresses. “The same place it always is.”
“Oh girl.” Morgan throws her head back as she laughs. “I get why you wanted to play a big angry beefcake. Just hearing about it makes me want to pick up an axe and break shit.”
“Please don’t, though.”
His voice is so warm and solow,his tone all playfulness. Butterflies flutter around doing pirouettes in my stomach, and I spin to see Noah approaching with three glasses of water.
“No rolling for initiative in Alchemist,” I promise solemnly, repeating the words Liam always uses to start in-game combat. Rolling for initiative determines the order in which each character gets to make an attack. It decides who gets to make the first move.
If the girls were being honest with me and there really is something there…
MaybeIshould roll for initiative.
His eyes snag on mine, and for one horrified, wonderful moment, I wonder if he can see my thoughts painted across my forehead. But with a smile he’s already gone, off to take care of some other customer. I’m left reeling, questioning just how reckless these last few drinks have inspired me to be.
