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CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

JULIET

Who would have thought I’d be the one eating every single joke I made about Ford playing Dungeons and Dragons ?

Do I understand the rules? Nope.

Am I lost every time I roll these gorgeous dice? Yup.

But am I having the time of my life, playing this make-believe game with Ford and his friends? Absolutely.

As is each person at the table.

Smitty—the rookie who has seen my boobs—is a rogue. Which I’m pretty sure is some kind of spy since he keeps trying to be sneaky and steal all the gold from everyone we meet. Then there’s Espinoza, the other teammate who’s seen my boobs, and he’s a bard, who wields a magical guitar and tries to sleep with everyone we meet. Kiefer—Jo’s husband— is a fighter who is a pacifist. Which would be funny on its own, but is down-right hilarious because his wife is a cleric with a sentient vampiric sword that demands she take the lives of her enemies. And last but not least, are Stone—the Renegades first baseman—and his best friend Dax. They are twin Elven monks who hate each other until you mess with their brother. Then they’ll kick your ass.

They’re a party of misfits that shouldn’t work, and yet I’m in awe at the way they roleplay their characters and embody them.It’s a little intimidating.

Then there’s Ford. Sitting behind his little pop-up screen, orchestrating the entire mission to rid the city of a monster in the sewers that keeps stealing children from their beds.

It’s a little dark, but when it’s make believe, I’m learning it doesn’t matter.

Because Ford was right. That’s what makes this game so much fun. You can say and do whatever you want to do and not a single person at this table is going to judge you for it. Sure, they might give you shit about it, but then they move on and see if they can do something just as unhinged or chaotic.

I look down at the grid mat that was blank when I first saw it, now covered in little boulders, trees and other props Ford put out to set the stage, along with mini figurines for each of our characters and a big eyeball monster with eight other eye tentacles branching off of it.

Espinoza throws up his hand like he’s a great and powerful bard and shouts. “I cast Vicious Mockery!”

“And what, pray tell, do you say?” Ford encourages, as he rolls a dice behind the screen to check and see if the spell takes.

“I look him right in his middle eye and say, I’d like to see things from your point of view, but I can’t get my head that far up my ass. ”

Smitty and Dax laugh, while the rest of us shake our heads.

“Roll for damage,” Ford says.

Espinoza rolls his dice and proudly lifts his chin. “Six.”

“The beholder is looking real rough, but it’s still holding.” Fordlooks down at his paper to see who gets to attack the monster next. “Juliet, it’s your turn.”

My eyes go wide, just as they have every single time it circles back to me. And like every other time, Ford reaches out under the table, places a hand on my knee and gives a reassuring squeeze. If anyone else notices, they don’t say anything. Just like they didn’t mention it when he kept a hand at the small of my back as he introduced me to each of them, or the way his eyes always come back to me, making sure I’m okay.

Across from me, Dax leans over the table and dramatically lifts a tattoo covered hand to hide his words from Ford. “Tell him you want to rage.”

I mirror his antics, pretending like Ford can’t hear us. “What’s that?”

“Oh yeah,” Jo echoes from beside me. “Say you want to rage.”

I straighten in my chair and look over at Ford, who is scraping his teeth over his lower lip in anticipation.

“I would like…to rage?”

The entire table erupts in cheers, and Smitty chants, “She Hulk, She Hulk, She Hulk.”

“What does that mean?” I ask Jo.

“It means you become super strong, and you get to add more points when you hit shit.”

“Well, in that case”—my lips hitch in a smile, and I move my tiny barbarian figure forward—“I run up and hit the eyeball thing with my sword.”

Ford chuckles at my incredibly articulate description. “Go ahead and roll your D20.”

“Ummm.” I wiggle my fingers over my dice until I find the twenty sided one and roll it in the little tray in front of me. “It’s a twenty.”

If I thought the table was excited for me to rage, it has nothing on the chaos that erupts now.

“Ahhh!”

“Natural Twenty!”

“That’s a crit!”

I have no idea what any of that means, but the energy rolling off everyone is infectious, and I can’t help but get hyped. Bouncing in my seat, my gaze darts around for someone to explain to me what the hell just happened.

“That definitely hits,” Ford says. “Roll your damage and double the dice.”

“Uhhh.” I look at the set of dice and my character sheet for help, neither of which has an explanation.

Ford leans over and hands me the twelve-sided die. “This one. Then double it and add your strength modifier, plus two.”

I check the sheet and roll the dice, quickly adding up the amount. “Twenty-six.”

“Dude, barbarians do it better when angry,” Smitty jokes and Espinoza snorts. “Right?”

Ford looks down at his sheet, and when he looks back up at me, there’s nothing but pride in his eyes. “Do your worst, love.”

Again the table cheers, and I’m stuck somewhere between confused at what happened and turned on by the endearment rolling off Ford's tongue.

Dax is the one to take pity on me and explains, “It means you get to tell us exactly how you want to kill this monster.”

“Come on, Etta,” Jo encourages. “Do your worst.”

I look at Ford for guidance, but he only nods. A subtle reminder that this is part of what I’m supposed to be learning. How to be myself and be on a date.

“Okay.” I inhale, looking at the monster. “I crouch down and swing from low to high and cut off every single one of his eyeball tentacles before shoving my sword straight through the main eye.”

It’s silent.

No one says a thing and for a split second, I think I’ve done it wrong.

But then everyone at the table jumps up from their seats and cheers. You’d think we just won the World Series, but no. We just killed a make-believe monster, with make-believe weapons in a make-believe sewer.

And it’s the most fun I’ve ever had on a date.

I’m lost in the moment, chuckling to myself when Jo wraps me in a hug. “I hope you know you’re officially one of us. You have to come back and play again.”

One of us .

Yeah. I could get used to that.