another. I wrote the article, which served as a way to get rid of the anger. I might also have tweeted about it, but no one in Troy’s circle follows me, so the chances he’ll read it are slim.
I’m fine if my article never gets published. I have bigger fish to fry. I’m writing the storyline for next weekend’s LARP event, and it needs to be finished today. Most of the time I don’t mind this side job. It’s fun to come up with crazy stories that will be acted out, but I’ve had to work on several assignments for school as well, which has made my schedule this week hell.
A text message pops on my screen. It’s from Ben, my baby brother. I see it’s a picture, so I click on it. A smile blossoms on my lips. Ben finally finished his costume for this weekend. His character is a troll hunter and, as such, needs several props. He’s been working on that project for months. I reply with a heart emoji.
Growing up, Ben and I shared our love for fantasy worlds and grand quest stories, so it’s not a surprise we both got into LARPing. He found it first, a suggestion from the school counselor to help him with his social anxiety.
“Wow, did you see that? Ben is looking badass,” Blake says from across the room.
No surprise Ben also texted Blake. They’re close.
“Yeah. I can’t wait for this weekend.”
“Me neither. How is that storyline coming along?”
“I’m almost done.”
“If you make me look good, I’ll forgive you for the Troy mishap.” He winks at me.
“You’re out of your mind. You’ve already agreed to be my bitch. No backsies.”
“Ugh. You’re the worst.”
“I’m going to ask again. Why aren’t you two dating?” Angelica, the newest member of the Rushmore Gazette, asks.
“Been there, done that, bought the T-shirt,” I reply with a shake of my head.
“But you have great chemistry.”
Blake and I trade glances, then burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny?” The poor girl alternates looking between us.
“Maybe one day we’ll tell you,” I say.
Unlikely.
Blake and I are the perfect match on paper. We like the same movies, the same books, are into similar hobbies, and mesh really well intellectually. But chemistry, the stuff that makes my knees go weak and my stomach turn into knots, is what we never had or will.
“Are you going to the Pike party tonight?” She changes the subject, thankfully.
Blake snorts. “Not in this lifetime.”
Angelica gets the dumbfounded look again, so I’m quick to explain, “Blake doesn’t do Greek Row.”
“Why not?”
“Because they’re all fucking assholes,” he replies angrily.
She glances at me for further explanation, but I just shrug. That’s Blake’s issue. It’s up to him to elaborate.
“We also have a LARP meeting tonight,” I add.
“Oh, that’s the Live Action Role Playing thingy, right?”
“Yep.”
“I’ve always thought people who were into those things were a bunch of weirdos, but you guys aren’t.”
My spine goes taut, and I see Blake has a similar reaction to mine. Angelica’s comment wasn’t malicious, but it’s hard not to get defensive.
“How do you know we aren’t weirdos?” Blake raises an eyebrow.
Angelica’s cheeks turn bright pink, and she drops her gaze to her laptop, avoiding eye contact. “I have to finish this article before my English Lit class.”
Blake and I share a what-can-you-do glance. A second later, he sends me a message through Facebook.
“I’m kind of tired of people’s bullshit. Aren’t you?”
“Since when do you care about what people think?”
“I don’t.”
“Hmm. It sounds like you do, or is it Angelica’s opinion that you care about?”
“Ha-ha. She’s too vapid for my taste.”
“Oh, look who’s judging now.”
“Shut up. What time are you picking me up?”
“Excuse me? Why do I have to drive?”
“Because my car is being serviced.”
“What about Fred?”
“He’s going straight from the store. He said he has a surprise for us.”
“Oh, I love Fred’s surprises.”
“Samesies.”
I chuckle out loud. “Samesies? What are you now, a thirteen-year-old girl?”
“I’m practicing being your bitch for this weekend. LOL.”
“Right. I’ll pick you up at five.”
“Sounds good.”
Fred is one of my best friends, but he’s also a lunatic with mad convincing skills. If the guy wasn’t an artist, he’d be a fantastic salesman. It’s the only explanation for what’s happening just outside of Zuko’s Diner in the pouring rain.
The California sky decided to drop on us with all its fury as we were taking pictures, wearing Fred’s surprise. His father owns one of the biggest movie prop companies in LA, and he scored us some sick postapocalyptic costumes. It won’t work for our