The Boy Who Died

Homecoming

Marcie

“Chug! Chug! Chug!” I shout with the rest of the crowd at some keg-standing someone or other. The red plastic cup in my hand is almost empty, which means it’s time for a refill. My first. Or third?

The keg-standing person splutters foamy beer, and I cheer with everyone else. Who the f**k am I kidding? These parties are f*****g great. I have to go to more. And the music is… is also great. I stumble away from the crowd, on the hunt for wherever the bar ran off to.

Something slams into my shins, and the room turns upside-down. I’m falling. Oh, s**t! Before I can get my limbs together enough to catch myself, someone wraps warm arms around my waist and arrests my fall. I blink a few times and look up at my rescuer.

Blurry jaw. Blurry hair—not that long, maybe pink. Or purple? No, wait, that’s the strobe lights, coloring his hair. Regardless, he’s blurry-handsome, and I smile easily up at him from where I sit in what seems to be his lap.

“Did it hurt?” he asks.

I laugh. I could fall off a building right now and bounce, I think. “Not a bit!”

“No, uh.” He shakes he head. “I mean when you fell, um—”

“I said no!” I adjust myself so I’m sitting up. Man, this couch is warm.

He smiles. “When you fell from heaven.”

I throw my head back and laugh. Something about the booze and the cheesy pickup line and the blurry-handsome man is so completely, utterly perfect I feel like I’m floating away on a cloud of perfectness.

“So you’ve heard that one a time or two?” he asks.

I nod a few times. “I think Adam may have used it on Eve.”

He smiles. I wonder if his blurry mouth is as warm as his arms. “All right, so it’s been a little while since I’ve been to a party. Can you fault a guy? You fell into my arms.”

“Sorry.” I can’t stop smiling. “But don’t worry, I’m not too judgmental. This is kind of my first party.”

“Really?” His pink-purple-blue eyebrows shoot up. “I’m surprised. You look so at home here.”

I try to wave my empty cup and discover I’ve lost it. “Let’s just say I’m very socially lubricated.”

He laughs. “Maybe I should try things your way. I perform a lot better when a few close friends want to sit down for a game.”

“Poker?” I nod seriously. “Or are you a proper old fogie, and when you say game you mean like, chess?”

“Hey, I’ll have you know I’ve played board games that came out after at least 1995.” He grins. “I’m pretty sure.”

My next laugh surprises even me, less alcohol-fueled and more inspired by the easy banter between us. God, I forgot how much I like funny men. I forgot how much I like men! I can’t even remember the last time I looked at one, and however blurry he might be, I am looking now.

“How did you escape your hermit cave in the mountains?” I ask. “Or was it more of a princess-in-a-tower situation?”

“Definitely princess tower.” His blurry mouth twists wryly. “I’m a regular Princess Gwendivere.”

My mouth drops open. “Gwnedivere? Like from Manticore Quest?”

“No way! You know Manticore Quest?” He shakes his head, but I think he’s smiling teasingly.

“What, women can’t play video games?” I demand. “How very medieval of you.”

He laughs. “f**k no, but no one plays random German video games from defunct consoles. I swear, I thought it was just me and a dozen freaks on forum boards.”

I pat his cheek. “You’re not thinking broad enough, young warrior. The Internet is much bigger than forum boards. I’ve got whole websites of fan communities. I can show you”—I drop my voice into my best impression of Morgengraun, the witch from the game—“powers the likes of which you’ve never seen.”

“Oof, that’s awful.” His whole body shakes with laughter. “And that’s not even the f*****g line.”

“Yes, it is!” I smack his shoulder lightly. “I’ve only played it like a million times. Gwen’s stuck over the cauldron, Sir Lancival isn’t there yet, and she says the potion is going to grant her powers the likes of which you’ve never seen.”

“So close.” He leans back in mock pain. “But it’s power the likes of which the world has never seen.”

I laugh in disbelief. “The second person I meet in real life who knows this game is a f*****g pedant! Not fair!”

“Totally fair.” His smile catches the strobe as well, until he’s all pink-purple-blue. “I’m basically saving your life. Now, you won’t be humiliated on these many fan websites you brag about.”

I shake my head and muster my itinerant thoughts to prove him completely, totally, ridiculously wrong.

Time turns to sand in my palms. I blink, and I’m facing the handsome stranger, now completely straddling his lap. Did I get back on him? No, the couch was warm. I never got back up. His arms are heavy and grounding around my waist, certain proof I’m not going anywhere, and he’s got the most beautiful blue eyes I’ve ever seen.

“Lose your sentence?” he asks.

I was talking. f**k. “Maybe. I think you might be too pretty to talk to.”

“I get it, that’s why I’m Gwendivere.” He offers me a shy smile. “Someone really ought to hide me away to make sure my beauty doesn’t go around messing up gorgeous women like yourself.”

My face flames. He’s flirting with me! I’m flirting with a strange man at a party, so strange I don’t even know his name. I take a breath, wait for the anxiety to kick in, but I just drop my head against his shoulder in helpless laughter. I haven’t given him my name either. This doesn’t feel like a sloppy mistake. It feels silly, and wild, and free. Like I was told college was supposed to be.

“Ah, f**k, is that the time?” he mumbles.

I pull back off his shoulder to see him checking his phone with a frown. I can’t quite put the numbers together enough to make a time, but it seems late. Or late enough that it has gotten early again.

“Why?” I ask. “Got somewhere else to be?”

He grimaces. “This is going to sound like bullshit.”

“Don’t worry, Gwendivere, I’ll believe you.” I wrap my arms around his neck and smile.

He sighs. “I’m expecting a call, and if I don’t pick up, or if I take it from here, there’s going to be hell to pay. I have to go.”

I nod sagely. “Ah, the classic girlfriend in Canada excuse.”

That startles a laugh out of him. “You really think I’m putting you off right now?”

“A mysterious call? A sudden excuse to leave?” I tighten my arms around his neck. “Either you’ve actually got a girlfriend, or you’re trying to run away.”

“No girlfriend; no running away.” He meets my gaze. “Promise, okay?”

Well, who am I to disagree with a man who promises? I stare at his blurry mouth. It would be so easy to lean in. Only a few breaths separate us, and then I would know what he tasted like, if he really is as warm all over.

The room spins a little. Maybe I’m way too drunk for this. But tonight is not a night for giving up. I twist and snatch his phone out of his hands. With only a few incorrect clicks, I open his contacts and create a new one. My number goes on one line. Above it, I start typing “Marcie,” then back up. I’m being silly and free. I type “Sir Lancival,” then hit save and give his phone back.

“Is that what you want me to call you?” he asks with a smile.

I collect all my muscles and launch up off his lap as gracefully as I can manage. “Text me sometime and ask.”

It’s nearly a perfect exit. I stumble at the corner and almost collapse, but I don’t look back to see if he was watching. I’m free. Dana’s going to be so proud of me.