Charlie’s shoulders sag forward. Pouting, she replies, “You drive, you pick the music. I shut my cakehole.”
I tap her leg. “Exactly.”
“Jerk,” Blake mutters from the back seat, earning a glower from me via the rearview mirror.
“What was that, bro?”
“Saying what Charlie should have.”
Blake is being an asshole, but I choose to let it slide. To be fair, I’m also not playing nice with the music. But to make a point, I listen to Iron Maiden for five more minutes before I switch to a classic rock station. That’s my compromise; I’m not going to listen to pop music.
When “Carry On My Wayward Son” by Kansas comes on, I pump up the volume and sing it at the top of my lungs. Charlie joins me in the singalong, and to my surprise, Blake does too. By the time we arrive at the campgrounds where the event will take place, I’m no longer bothered by Blake’s stick-up-his-ass ways.
I’m surprised to see all the cars in the parking lot. I didn’t realize it was that big of an event.
“How many people come to these things?” I ask, something I should have done way sooner.
“We usually get ten to fifteen participants, but this is the first spring event, so we probably have double that.”
Great, twice as many people to witness my humiliation. I’m glad I’ll be almost unrecognizable, wearing my troll costume. It was a good call to not tell the guys I was coming this weekend anyway. Andreas and Danny have been pestering me about it for weeks. If they knew it was today, I wouldn’t put it past them to come here to capture my humiliation and post it all over the internet.
I veer for the trunk to grab our stuff, but Blake beats me to it, and not only does he haul out his duffel bag, but also Charlie’s.
“I’ll take that.” I reach for her bag strap.
“Will you relax? I was just being helpful,” he says.
“Give it to me. I can carry it,” Charlie butts in.
“Nonsense, babe. I’m good.” I flash her a smile.
“Fine. Be my guest.”
She skips ahead, bouncing her glorious hair. It’s longer now, almost to her waist. The movement is hypnotizing, and for a moment, I’m content to just watch her go.
I’m suddenly shoved to the side when someone flings his arm around my shoulders and leans into me. “Troy, my man. I can’t believe you actually made it.”
Fred, one of Charlie’s closest friends, is the one making the fuss. Since he’s not a pain in the ass like Blake, and has no past with Charlie, it was easy to warm up to him even after the severed head prank.
“I totally caved. But what can I say? I’ve seen Charlie’s costume, and it’s best if I’m here to fend off any jackass who thinks he has a chance with her.” I glance at Blake fleetingly.
“For the thousandth time, I do not want Charlie back,” he says before storming off ahead.
Fred pats me on the shoulder. “You really don’t have to worry about him. He has zero interest in Charlie as a lover. I think he has a new girlfriend, but you didn’t hear it from me. Blake is uber private.”
“Like I’d gossip about his love life.” I scoff.
Fred grins. “Come on. Let’s get you registered, and then it’s show time.”
CHARLIE
Troy is so nervous, it’s adorable. He keeps fidgeting where he stands, watching what everyone does with rapt attention. He told me once that he hated anything theatrical thanks to a bad experience where he forgot his lines in a play, but the beauty of LARP is that it’s all improv. You just have to go with the flow and stay in character.
After the dark forces cast a curse across the entire land, my character, Raven the Sorceress, suggests a partnership with Gunther Crook. Blake’s character, Philippe Di Biase, is a rogue vampire knight who’s against it, but he’s also against every idea the group suggests. That’s his character.
While Blake is busy with his monologue, listing why trusting a troll is a terrible idea, Troy steps closer to me and whispers, “Why am I not surprised this toad is against me?”
“Shh, you have to stay in character.” I elbow him lightly in the stomach.
He pinches my butt in retaliation, daring me with his eyes to say something. I watch him through slits, but then Blake asks Gunther a question.
“Come again?” Troy asks.
“I asked what you have to say for yourself, monster.”