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CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

HANK

Angie drives us out of downtown Seattle, guiding the car toward Elliot’s neighborhood. She’s wearing a bow tie for game night, and I’ve gone with a more casual pair of suspenders, white-and-gray striped.

“Thank you again for driving,” I tell her. “I’ll sink down in the seat when we get closer to Elliot’s.”

“It’s exciting,” Angie says. “I’m pretending that we’re undercover.”

“High stakes for a game night.”

“It’s cool that you’re going for it,” Angie says. “You and Elliot obviously make each other happy.”

“Maybe the island had an effect on me. Before we crashed there, I’m not sure what choices I would have made these past few days.

But life feels so much more precious now.

Time with you, with Mom and Dad. Everything that lies ahead of me feels exciting and new again.

And I guess from here, feeling the way I do about Elliot, it seems wrong to let that slip by. ”

Angie comes to a stop sign and squeezes my arm with an encouraging smile. “Ready to see how these youngsters play games?”

I laugh. “I swear, you’re going to forget yourself and call them youngsters in person if you keep doing that.”

Angie laughs as I hide myself from any prying eyes on the street, reclining the seat. The car pulls through the driveway, and it’s not until we’re safely to the fenced-in backyard that I sit up and look around.

The old house is ramshackle and immediately charming.

Handmade wind chimes sing quietly from the rear, and there are beach chairs set up by a weedy flower patch.

I grab my bags and follow Angie to the rear door, where Elliot greets us with a huge grin.

He’s sporting a blue-and-purple jumpsuit with a sharp collar and short-sleeves, and he throws his arms around me when I step into the kitchen.

“Hi. Welcome to my place.”

“Lovely house,” Angie says as she kicks her loafers off.

“Thanks. We get a deal on it because it’s falling apart,” Elliot says and leans on the kitchen counter, which is held up on one end by a plank of wood.

“You’ve made it yours,” I tell him. I smile, my eyes dancing around. The room is full of art and photographs, kitschy objects and cookbooks and kitchen projects. It’s well-loved, and I see Elliot’s presence everywhere.

We step around the corner and into the living room.

Taylor sits in an armchair in a pair of overalls with a pink sports bra underneath.

Beside her is Marko on a beat-up red leather couch, his casual and flowy black dress draping off the side.

They both stand to greet us, and we get the introductions out of the way before settling down again.

Elliot and I end up beside each other on the couch, hip to hip, and I slide my arm over his shoulder without thinking much of it.

“Congratulations on the rally,” I tell Marko, but make sure to nod to Taylor and Elliot, too. “It looked like a success.”

“Thanks!” Marko says happily. “Our senator has opened an inquiry into the legality of the drilling project, so we’re feeling pretty powerful right now.”

Angie starts looking through their stack of games, and Taylor sneaks off to make the first round of tea.

I find it easy to talk with his friends, with more shared geeky interests than I had initially expected given our age difference.

By the time Taylor returns, I’m lost in a conversation about local watersheds with Marko.

The next thing I know, there’s techno music on the speakers, and we’re all drinking peppermint-and-nettle tea, a glob of honey melting at the bottom of the little cups.

“Very nice nettle,” I say and enjoy another sip.

“Thank you,” Taylor says. “I’ll be lobbying for your vote later.”

“Excellent game collection over here, too,” Angie adds. “I love all the cooperative titles.”

Marko points at the game on the table. “Elliot has proposed that we start with Mycelius .”

“For Hank, clearly,” Taylor adds.

“I figured,” Angie says.

I glance around. “What’s that?”

Marko sits up and clears his throat. “ Mycelius is a cooperative tile-based game with simultaneous play. Each player occupies a terrain board, which combine into the eco complex. Turns advance as players build a mycelial network in tandem with plant cards, the microbiological life dice, and evolving soil conditions.”

I blink. “It’s a game about mushrooms and soil science?”

“Exactly,” Marko says.

“How have I not heard of this one?” I turn to Elliot. “Fantastic choice.”

He nods, pleased. “Thanks! I knew you’d like it.”

The game has smooth play and fun rules, and I catch on quickly. Playing gives everyone an easy way to relate and get to know each other’s personalities. The laughter is quick, and I enjoy the way Elliot and I casually bump while we move our spores around.

When it’s my turn to make tea, we get a minute alone in the kitchen.

“How was the office today?” Elliot asks.

“It’s exhausting being under fluorescent lights again,” I answer. “But I’m so busy, there isn’t much time to worry about office politics. Your dad even complimented my efficiency. Not that you want to hear about him.”

Elliot shakes his head. “It’s your job, so I do want to hear. The weirdness will get less weird. Hopefully.”

I consider telling him about the direct threat from his father, the insistence that we stay apart, but quickly rationalize that away. Elliot and I are already committed to keeping our relationship secret. There’s no good reason to upset him with that information.

Instead, I quirk up a smile, step forward, and kiss him.

Elliot smiles broadly. “Anyway, fluorescent lights are designed to exhaust us. It’s an anti-gay conspiracy. Can I help you make your tea?”

I turn to the stove and get started. “I’m not sure if this is allowed, but would your friends appreciate it if I offered a splash of alcohol? I have an herbal liqueur that goes with the licorice tea and orange rind.”

Elliot tilts his head toward the game room. “We got a boozy one coming up!” he yells, and everyone cheers.

“The rules are pretty loose,” Elliot explains.

“I’m glad to be here. Angie and I have played games together and with our parents so much, it’s always fun to play with new people.”

“You could see it reflected in the mycelial network.”

The kettle steams, and I pull it from the stove. “How about your work?” I ask.

“I’m making progress. Although still very broke. Viral fame should be good for an artist. But in my situation, the attention is a distraction.”

“Under different circumstances, you could become famous for your art, right?”

“Not exactly,” he explains. “If you searched my legal name and horny kink illustrations came up, it would close a lot of doors to me. In a different world, though, I’d love to get to share my work with a broad audience.”

I frown, considering how complicated that must be for Elliot. “I see your point.”

When I finish pouring the tea, he helps me bring it back to the room, where I get a rave reception. With each cup, I pour the hot tea over the orange rinds, stir three times, and add a splash of the herbal alcohol, all wafting up in a deliciously aromatic steam.

Angie takes a delicate sip. “I’m realizing I might be the only one who picked up generic brand boxed tea bags from the grocery store.”

“Elliot won once with Smooth Move,” Marko offers.

“Everyone agreed that they’d needed it,” Elliot explains.

We quickly start up another game, this time competing with each other to build high-tech mega-cities. Elliot goes next with his tea, featuring chamomile with floating daisy flower petals that he picked from the yard, the edible flowers being a trick I taught him on the island.

He explains all the health benefits and gets me to tell everyone about the flower.

After, we play another competitive game, forming schools of fish over large migratory currents, while Angie shares her personal favorite night-time tea with us.

It’s decaffeinated black tea, which she mixes in a big mug with a cup of milk.

“If you don’t drink cow milk,” she says as she reaches into her bag, “I also took the oat milk from Hank’s fridge when I picked him up.”

“Oh, good,” I say as I take it.

Marko nods as he sips the tea. “Decaffeinated black tea. Not bad.”

“It’s kind of hardcore,” Taylor agrees.

Refreshed, we settle in for the last game, a return to Mycelius and the final tea.

“Kool-Aid out of the fancy tea kettle,” Marko announces.

“Kool-Aid?” I ask, not sure I heard right. “As in sugary water?”

“No,” Angie corrects. “Kool-Aid out of the fancy tea kettle.” She looks at Marko. “I love it already.”

“Looks like there’s one strong vote for Kool-Aid developing,” Elliot says.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Angie replies. “Marko, you’re a lovely person, but for all I know, you could be about to serve me warm, no-sugar lime.”

Marko leans forward, pouring into Angie’s cup first. “Cherry grape mix,” he says. “Chilled.”

Angie tips her cup back and takes a drink. “I vote for Kool-Aid out of the fancy tea kettle.”

In the end, I win with votes from both Marko and Elliot. Taylor votes for Angie, Angie for Elliot, and I give Elliot’s flower petals serious consideration, but on his encouragement, I recognize the nettle, giving my point to Taylor.

I’m declared the winner of all the games, including the cooperative ones, and as I chuckle about the absurdity of it, I realize it’s gotten late. I sneak off to do some tidying in the kitchen, pleased to listen while Angie laughs along with Elliot and his friends.

Angie exchanges contact info with Taylor and Marko, making plans to game again. When she’s ready to take off, I indicate that I’m spending the night. After that, Marko and Taylor slip out back, too, giving us some privacy.

Elliot steps behind me at the sink and wraps his arms around my chest, holding me while the faucet sputters.

“That was nice.”

“Yeah, it was.” I turn the water off and face him. “Your friends are easy to like. And they’re your family. I understand that.”