Page 6

Wes

“Alright, listen up,” I say. “You find yourselves standing at the entrance of a dark, foreboding cave in the middle of a forest. The trees are so thick around you that they blot out the sun. Suddenly, you hear a low growl coming from inside the cave. What do you do?”

Honor–or Elyse the Elven archer–says, “I pull out my bow and nock and arrow, ready for whatever’s in there.”

Zeke, my Play It Forward mentee currently playing Hagrid the giant, says, “I charge forward with my sword of power raised, shouting a war cry.”

I nod. “Alright, a figure emerges from the cave. The meanest looking orc you’ve ever seen is charging toward you, battle axe held high. Elyse, roll for damage.”

“I roll a five. Bummer.” She looks at me pleadingly. “But that can still cause damage, right?”

“Your shot goes wide. Bad luck.” I cluck my tongue at Honor, who glares at me. “Hagrid, roll for damage.”

“I roll an eighteen!” Zeke exclaims, pumping his fist. “Let’s go!”

“Hagrid, you land an almost-killing blow.”

“Almost? What? Bruh!” Zeke protests, his mouth dropping open. “Hagrid kills what he aims at.”

“Okay, but maybe not 100 percent of the time,” I say, giving him a quelling look. “How about Hagrid learns to appreciate the value of teamwork? Elyse, roll for damage.”

Honor lets out a whoop. “Elyse is back in the game!” She blows on the dice before she rolls it, grinning. The dice bounces against the table before finally settling. The grin fades and she looks at me uncertainly. “I rolled a seven.”

“And that is just enough for a single arrow to hit the orc, delivering the final coup de grace!”

Honor squeals and jumps to her feet, dancing around. She runs over to me, throwing her arms around me as she jumps up and down. I struggle to hug her back, grinning like a fool. Zeke rolls his eyes behind Honor’s back, mouthing the word “pushover” at me.

At the grand old age of fifteen, Zeke quickly caught on to my not-so-secret crush on Honor and teases me mercilessly about it every chance he gets. Sometimes I wonder how Honor carries on completely in ignorance about my true feelings for her, when even a pimply teenager can see it.

“I’m going to grab us some more snacks for a victory party!” Honor says. She dances off to the kitchen, sashaying her hips as she goes.

“Don’t say it,” I say to Zeke, holding up a hand.

“You’re weak, bruh,” Zeke says, shaking his head. “First and foremost, my eighteen should have killed the orc. And then, you and I both know a seven wouldn’t be enough for a killing blow. You just wanted to give it to her.”

Zeke has braces on his teeth and fears nothing more than a high school essay assignment, but he’s got the keen insight of an eighty-year-old.

“Look how happy it made her,” I say weakly, gesturing toward the kitchen where Honor disappeared.

“You’re whipped,” Zeke continues. “It’s sad. The girl isn’t even dating you and you’re totally whipped.”

“It’s called being a good friend,” I whisper. “And lower your voice. She could hear you!”

“I love Honor, but you could stand in front of her and tell her to her face that you love her, and she still wouldn’t hear you.”

I clear my throat. If Zeke had been rolling dice, he would have rolled a direct hit right then.

“What?” Zeke asks, immediately sensing there’s some hot tea about to spill.

I rub the back of my neck. “I kind of did exactly that.”

“When?” His hand flies to his face, covering his mouth.

“In the car. On the way home from the fight. I told her I loved her. And she said she loved me too–as a friend.” I wince.

“No!” Zeke stares at me, his eyes wide. Then he shrieks with laughter. He falls to the ground and starts smacking the floor, laughing hysterically.

“Okay, relax. It’s not that funny.”

He sits up, wiping tears from his eyes. “Oh, I’m so embarrassed for you. How humiliating.”

My eyes narrow. “Gee, thanks, kid. How kind. Remind me again why I hang out with you?”

“Because you two losers don’t have anyone else to play D&D with.”

I had connected with Zeke through Play It Forward, a national organization that pairs youth with mentors through sports.

I had heard about Play It Forward through the national Buhurt association and immediately applied.

I had always wanted to be a mentor but had never taken the initiative.

This opportunity seemed tailor made for me.

Zeke is a closet nerd who pretends to be cool but secretly loves anything fantasy and medieval related.

We bonded over Buhurt and that quickly turned into D&D game nights, bringing back memories for me from high school and college.

Honor had quickly joined in the fun. Other than Zeke’s excessive use of the word “bruh,” I love him like a brother.

“That’s it–you’re getting it.” I lunge at him. He scrambles away.

“What’s going on?” Honor asks, returning from the kitchen. “I heard laughter. What’s so funny?”

“Wes’s love life,” Zeke cracks, then races around the couch.

“What love life?” Honor asks innocently.

Zeke’s head pops up like a prairie dog. “Exactly.” He snorts and ducks back down under a blanket.

“There’s a real lack of respect today amongst America’s youth for their elders,” I note, leaping onto Zeke. He grunts under me.

Honor partially smiles, clearly feeling out of the loop. “Well, speaking of a love life, thank you again, Wes, for helping me out on my date with Mike.”

“You did what?” Zeke whispers. “You are so pathetic.”

“Shut it,” I hiss back, lightly elbowing him. I look at Honor and raise my voice. “No problem at all, Honor. I’m glad I was there to help you.”

“Did Mike take it hard?” she asks.

In actuality, Mike hadn’t taken it hard at all–he had just complained about paying for Honor’s drink, at which point I pulled a five-dollar bill from my wallet and passed it to him without comment. He immediately commenced flirting with Sophie, who I’m pretty sure only humored him for a tip.

“Well, he was disappointed, of course,” I tell Honor, not wanting her feelings to be hurt. “But he’ll be okay.”

“Oh, good. Sorry if I made things awkward between you and your teammate.”

I wave my hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it.” I pause. “Are you okay? I know you were looking forward to the date.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. It was a good learning experience that I shouldn’t go out with just anyone.”

That’s right. In fact, don’t go out with anyone–you should only go out with me . Maybe I can finally drum up the courage to try telling her again my feelings–and this time, make her listen.

“So I’ve decided to try online dating,” Honor concludes.

“What?” I ask, sitting up at attention. My heart starts racing at the thought of the dozens–maybe hundreds–of guys who will now be checking out Honor’s profile and contacting her.

Guys who might be rich, successful, handsome.

Guys who would have so much more to offer her than I ever could. Sweat instantly beads on my forehead.

“I’ve already got a profile up. Do you want to see it?” Honor asks.

“Sure,” I say, getting to my feet, all interest in pummeling Zeke forgotten. Zeke crawls out from under the blanket, his eyes moving between me and Honor.

“Take a look,” Honor says, turning her phone to face me. The first thing I see is a smiling picture of Honor out in a field– I took that picture of her and in fact, it’s on my phone in a secret album of Honor pics. She swipes her finger to scroll down the profile.

“Give me your honest opinion as a guy,” Honor says. “Will any guy message me?”

I stare at her beautiful, smiling face, which I have gazed at and dreamed about so often I know it better than my own. I swallow a lump. “They’d be crazy not to.”

She turns the phone back to herself, frowning at some imagined flaw. “But maybe I need a sexier photo, like one of those duck lip photos every woman seems to have.” She purses her lips.

“Don’t change a thing,” I instantly say.

Honor looks at me, a question in her eyes.

“You’re perfect just the way you are.”

Honor’s whole face lights up in a way that makes my heart ache. “That’s so sweet, Wes. This is why you’re my best friend and always will be.” She walks over to hug me as Zeke makes a gagging sound, which we both ignore.

I hold her closely in my arms, letting my eyes close for just a brief moment to memorize the feel of her so close.

When I open them, it’s to see Zeke’s derisive expression. “Tell her,” he mouths at me.

I subtly shake my head. At this point, if Honor isn’t seeing my true feelings for her, it’s because she’s willfully avoiding them. Something else will have to change.

Zeke mimes pulling his hair out and choking himself. I roll my eyes—not very mature, but neither is taking dating advice from a fifteen-year-old.

“I just hope these guys are as good as what their pictures look like,” Honor muses as she pulls away.

“You know that some guys will get on there with fake pictures? Hard to even know who you’re talking to these days.

I could be chatting away, thinking I’m falling in love, and be talking with someone totally different from who I think they are. ”

And just like that, an idea springs fully formed into my head. A way to get Honor to somehow forget that I’m her best friend and see me as a romantic prospect instead…without her ever knowing.

“What was that site again?” I ask, trying to sound only mildly interested.

“SwipeRight.com.” She eyes me. “Why? Thinking of making your own profile?”

“No,” I lie.

“You should! We could share horror stories! Maybe even go on a double date.” She seems way too excited at the prospect.

“I think I’ve had enough time playing your third wheel.” Time to play leading man.

“Right,” Honor says. “Sorry again.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I make a show of checking my watch. “Look at that. I think it’s time for me to get Zeke home.”

“Of course! I need to get going anyway. I’ve already gotten ten messages from potential dates.” She claps her hands as my gut clenches. Guys move fast in the online dating world, apparently. I need to move faster.

“Good luck with that. Tell me how it goes,” I offer as I hustle Zeke out the door. I need to get him home and then figure out how to set up a profile on SwipeRight, find some fake pictures of a generically handsome man to upload, and write an irresistible message to Honor.

No sooner do we get into the car than Zeke turns to me. “So, when are we making you a fake profile to catfish Honor?”

I cast a quelling glance at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, c’mon, bruh, you’re so obvious.” He pauses. “Well, to anyone but Honor. She’s living deep in denial.”

“ If I were going to create a fake profile–and that’s a big if–I certainly wouldn’t talk about it with anyone, and definitely not you.”

“So, you are thinking about it.”

I cast my eyes skyward. “Maybe.”

“I knew it!” He pumps a fist. “This is going to be epic. We’re going to make a great team.”

I sigh. “Fine, you were right, but there’s no we involved. You are going home to finish your geometry homework.” I pull out of my driveway and head toward the highway.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but you clearly need some serious help.”

“From a high schooler?” I scoff.

“What? The ladies love me.” His grin widens. “Look, you can think of it as educational.”

“How?”

“It’s a social experiment. Can the game-less dude win his best friend’s love by pretending to be someone else? I can write an essay on it.”

I cross my arms. “An essay? For what class?”

“For my future college entrance application, titled, How I Became a Life and Dating Coach at 15. It will demonstrate my entrepreneurial talents. I’m talking Harvard, baby!”

I groan, covering my face. “Where did I go wrong in my life choices?” I mutter to no one in particular.

“Okay, forget the essay. I’ll consider this charity work. You’re kind of an overthinker, if you haven’t noticed. If we leave it to you, you’ll never get the train out of the station. You need me.”

“I don’t need you.”

“Okay, I’ll make a deal with you. Let me help you with this and I’ll finish all my homework assignments on time for the next month.”

“You should be doing that anyway.”

“Maybe, but I won’t, unless my amazing Play It Forward mentor comes up with an incentive I care about.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. This kid needs to go to law school because he could sell snow to penguins. “Fine.”

Zeke throws up his arms like he’s a ref calling a touchdown. “Let’s go!”

Ugh, I hope I don’t regret this.