Well Played, стр. 21

Seven

Birds flew south for the winter, and apparently so did Renaissance faire performers. I’d never paid attention to the Faire circuit as an entity; it was just something I did every summer in my hometown. But since Dex and I had started—well, whatever you wanted to call what we were doing; I wasn’t sure I wanted to define it—I checked in on the Kilts’ fanpage on a regular basis, and it became clear that our Faire was just one stop among many. One small dot on a path that wound through the eastern United States, snaking through several states, sometimes ducking out toward the Midwest before coming back to the East Coast again. And as the weather grew colder and the holidays grew closer, that path moved farther and farther south, culminating in Florida just before Thanksgiving. After that they went home to Michigan through the new year, and then it was back down to Florida, where the whole thing went in reverse: Faires in the South as the path headed northward again and the weather warmed up.

Following their progress down to Florida, combined with Dex’s emails about his daily life—so different from mine—lit a fire in the back of my mind. Not a raging fire. Not even an especially bright or urgent one. More of a flickering candle flame, but it combined with that odd feeling of being left behind when Faire had ended this past summer. And together, that flickering light and that sense of yearning made me want something new. A life on the road. A life somewhere other than here.

But, as usual, I let that candle and those feelings flicker out and then I went back to work on Monday as though they’d never existed.

After Dex and the rest of the Kilts went home for the holidays, his emails came less often, which I tried not to take too personally. He was back with friends and family, after all; he probably didn’t need his online pen pal as much while he wasn’t on the road. But as Christmas slid into New Year’s Eve, the lack of emails showed me how much I’d made them part of my life. Made Dex part of my life. And I wondered if that had been a mistake. If he was just someone else who would move beyond me.

But I masked the feeling and sent him an email before I left to go out on New Year’s Eve. In the spirit of Auld Lang Syne and all that.

To: Dex MacLean

From: Stacey Lindholm

Date: December 31, 9:32 p.m.

Subject: Happy New Year

I’ve always thought that New Year’s Eve had a special sort of energy to it. Saying goodbye to the old, worn-out year, and looking forward to the promise of a bright new one. Like sliding into a bed with fresh, clean sheets on it. It’s not an energy that lasts. By February most people have forgotten the New Year’s resolutions they’ve made. I’ve stopped writing them down, myself—I hate the feeling of not living up to my own expectations.

I’m off to a New Year’s Eve party at Jackson’s with a bunch of friends. It’s a cold night, but I don’t think we’re getting snow. I hope that you’re safe and warm this New Year’s Eve, and I hope that you have a very happy New Year. I’m glad I’ve gotten to know you better these past few months.

There. Friendly, but not too friendly. If he really was backing off our little online relationship, I didn’t want to look too clingy. I slipped my phone into my clutch on my way out the door, but once I got to Jackson’s I tried really hard to not check it. Which meant I tapped the email icon every five minutes or so. I frowned at my email inbox, empty of new messages, until Mitch took my phone out of my hand and put a shot glass in it instead.

“Hey, give that back.” I made a weak attempt to take my phone, but Mitch was something like twice my height and just held it over his head. I wasn’t getting it back until he was ready to give it.

“Nope. Not till you’ve done a shot with me. And then a shot with Park over there.” He nodded over to where Emily leaned against the bar. She saw us looking at her and waved, a grin spreading over her face.

“When did Emily get here?” I tossed back the shot—vodka, so there weren’t any accompaniments like salt or limes to contend with. I only coughed a little as it went down, warming me from the inside out.

“About three checks of your phone ago.” He took the empty shot glass away and handed me a bottle of beer as a chaser. His face darkened slightly, which was an odd look for the world’s most cheerful guy. “You getting stood up or something?”

“No. Nothing like that.” I wasn’t about to explain my odd online relationship in the middle of a crowded bar on what was supposed to be the most festive night of the year.

“Hmm.” Mitch looked me over critically and handed me back my phone. “Well, come on. That shot was just a warm-up. Come join the party. But let me know whose ass I need to kick later, okay?”

“You got it.” I turned off my phone and stuck it back in my purse. Screw it. Dex wasn’t writing me back tonight. He was probably out celebrating New Year’s Eve, just as I was. Except he wasn’t wasting the whole night staring at his phone.

Enough. I took a swig from my beer and clung to the back of Mitch’s shirt as he led us through the tight crowd. Funny how I’d had such a crush on Mitch when we were in high school. But now I