Page 73 of Robbin’ the Rich

I knew exactly what waited on the other end of those calls. It was nothing but a lecture about missing church and shirking family duties and all the other stuff I had no interest in hearing.

Ordinarily, the guilt would have been enough to keep me in line. I would have spent the entire day trying to figure out how to make everyone happy. Instead, I sat on my couch beside a woman who had turned my world upside down, and I couldn't bring myself to care nearly as much as I once did.

Eventually food turned into video games because Robin insisted the only appropriate hangover recovery plan involved killing zombies. We loaded into Project Undead, and within ten minutes she was carrying our entire team while I repeatedly made decisions that got my character killed.

"You left me to die in a hoard of zombies!"

"I told you to go right."

"I did go right."

Robin's character dispatched three zombies with alarming efficiency. "No, right would have led you to the roof, not a kitchen full of zombies."

The worst part was she was probably correct.

At some point during the afternoon, she stretched out across the couch and dropped her feet into my lap without so much as asking. The gesture was so casual it made something warm settle in my chest. I started rubbing one sore arch with my thumb while waiting for the next level to load, and Robin immediately sighed.

“Fuck, Micah. That feels so good. I can’t remember the last time someone rubbed my feet.”

“Well, I aim to please.”

“McDonald’s and a foot rub. That’s romance.”

I laughed and kept working her tired feet. Roller derby had apparently turned every muscle in her body into a battlefield. She relaxed deeper into the cushions while simultaneously mowing down a horde of zombies on screen. It was an adorable contrast.

The afternoon drifted by in that comfortable, unremarkable way that often ended up meaning the most. We played video games. We argued about strategy. Robin stole more fries. My phone continued buzzing every so often from the coffee table, each call and text another reminder that the rest of my life was still waiting for me outside these walls. I ignored every one of them.

When I glanced over and found Robin laughing at something that had happened in the game, her feet still in my lap and her hair still a complete disaster from sleeping on the couch, I realized I didn't regret the choice at all.

By the time I dropped Robin off at her apartment that evening, I was running late. Not terribly late, just enough that my phone informed me of the fact three separate times while I drove across town toward Nate and Jordan's house.

The entire drive felt strange. Part of it was the lingering guilt from ignoring my family all day. The other part was the increasingly uncomfortable realization that I'd spent nearly every free hour of the weekend with Robin and still hadn't wanted to leave.

That in itself wasn’t the problem. The problem was that every time I tried to examine the feeling too closely, my brain immediately wandered somewhere dangerous. Somewhere that involved words like future and relationship and what if. I wasn't ready for those conversations. Especially not when I still hadn't had the conversation I actually needed to have.

By the time I pulled into Nate and Jordan's driveway, the constant knot in my chest wasn’t something I could ignore. The familiar sounds of game night greeted me the moment I stepped inside. Dice rattled somewhere in the dining room. Somebody was arguing about character abilities.

"Look who decided to join us."

I glanced up to find Nate leaning against the doorway with a Mountain Dew in one hand and a grin on his face.

"Traffic,” was all I could think to say.

"You're twenty minutes late."

"Terrible traffic." I shrugged off my backpack and sat down.

The dining room table was already covered with maps, character sheets, dice towers, miniatures, and enough snacks to survive a minor apocalypse. The campaign had been running for almost two years at this point. Every Sunday evening we'd gather here and save fictional kingdoms while largely failing to manage our own lives.

Usually, it worked well. Tonight, I sat down, picked up my dice, and realized I had no idea what was happening. An hour later, I was still struggling. The party was negotiating with a suspicious merchant… or fighting a wizard. Possibly both? I'd completely lost the plot.

"Micah."

I looked up to find four people were staring at me.

"What?"

Eli sighed. "It's your turn."