Rolling for Love

by Kate Messick

“I don’t know,” I say, focusing on Dillon. “I like the idea of getting a fresh start.”

  “Why do you need a fresh start?” Joe asks me. I give him an incredulous look. He and Dillon both stay quiet, waiting for my response.

  “Well, um,” I don’t usually need this many speech fillers, “Ah, I have made friends for the first time in a while, but I feel like I have also made everything complicated.”

  “How so?” Dillon pressures me. I know, he knows. He’s just trying to make me say it. After our kiss, he sent me a Strider story and I sent him one back, Nozomi’s romantic feelings for Strider clearly defined in my response. But we haven’t talked as ourselves yet. I’m still kind-of seeing Joe and I don’t know that I want to end that. I take one of each of their hands in my own and squeeze.

  “I have feelings for two men,” I admit, making eye contact with my reflection in Dillon’s TV. I take a deep breath and shift to stand, but Joe’s arms encircle my waist. He pulls me onto his lap, my back resting against his firm chest. His lips brush, then kiss the side of my neck. Guilt fills my stomach when I search for Dillon, but my search is short as his bright eyes are right in front of me.

  His fingers brush the underside of my chin and he softly asks, “Is this ok?”

  “Yes.” I breathe deeply as his lips lightly press against mine.

  Like Joe’s feather kisses on my neck, Dillon explores my mouth like I’m made of glass. I feel hands smoothly trace the outside of my thighs and then up and down my arms. A hand slips up my shirt and lightly presses my stomach as another one ventures gently between my thighs. I feel Joe’s dick straining against his pants under me. Dillon moves his mouth along my jaw and down my neck, and I turn my head. Joe’s mouth catches mine for the briefest of kisses. I moan as Dillon’s hands trail up my shirt and his tongue flicks that spot where my collarbone and neck meet.

  The sound of my phone ringing crashes into our moment and cuts the sexual tension, melting our connection like a hot knife slicing butter. We move apart and I end up back in the middle of the couch with Joe and Dillon on their respective sides. My ringtone is over. I pick up my beer and take another sip as if nothing had happened.

  “Grapple is a waste of an attack,” I finally say.

  “I think, with a few tweaks, it could be really powerful,” Joe adds.

  “Really?” Dillon demands. “Is this really the discussion we need to have right now?”

  “What if I want to use grapple in Joe’s game tomorrow?” I ask him, trying to be practical.

  “Grapple just immobilizes someone,” Dillon gives in to the topic change. “They can still hit you back, but they can’t move so, situationally, it’s really powerful.”

  “But if they can still do everything they could before they were grappled, what’s the point?” Joe asks, annoyed.

  “I think the point is to make you explore other options,” I respond. Other options. Wasn’t I reading an article about relationships in the twenty-first century being more progressive? I said that I was trying to be a new Sandy. It was Joe and Dillon helping me grow. Did I need to choose?

  “You mean your opponent,” Dillon points out.

  “My opponent?” I repeat.

  “Your opponent needs to find a way to get un-grappled,” he clarifies.

  “Right.” I quietly sip my beer and try to quench the fire between my legs. But it doesn’t want to go out. And I’m not sure if I want it to either.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Campaign, Estes Park

  The city of Estes Park is long and skinny. Following the path of Big Thompson River, wood houses and small shopping complexes are dotted with sculptures and parking lots. Most of the hotels are located around the exteriors, with the big exception of the Stanley, a world-famous haunted hotel.

  Dillon Dempsey

  “Why is this happening to us?” Steven moans in Trixy’s voice. Upon waking in our hotel just outside Estes, we had found ourselves surrounded by Kaatse family goons. We fought our way free, but just barely. The tourist we had been following abandon to their own devices.

  “It didn’t occur to me that the demon families reach would extend all the way to the mountains,” Lynda defends herself.

  I also asked a lot of dumb questions and am very happy when Sandy brings us back into some role-playing. I can feel the finger-pointing portion of our conversation coming on strong.

  “Because there is a game on. We are being used as pawns,” Sandy says dramatically in Nozomi’s voice.

  “We need more information. Strider, you’re a well-traveled friendly human.” Zack’s Scottish lilt is still bad, but I enjoy it. “Do you know anyone?”

  “Roll me investigation,” Joe asks.

  I roll. Hot damn! Natural twenty. Joe lists details upon details of my contacts in Estes. I’m very well known as a performer at all the local watering holes. Even been known to buy and sell a few things, so most of them are excited to see me walk in the door. In the end, we decide to hit up the winery on the farthest edge of town first. Is only open during the day; we’re going to have to split the party.

  “That didn’t work so hot in Sandy’s game,” Zack points out.

  “It will be fine,” Steven states. “Just a social encounter.”

  “How was your game?” Lynda asks Sandy.

  “It was ok,” she responds. “I learned a lot and I think people had fun.”

  “I had fun,” Joe quickly says. “Dillon did too.”

  I watch as Sandy turns a shade of red I didn’t know she was capable of. I meet Joe’s eyes briefly. They are filled with humor; his body language relaxed. I have been in a few threesomes, but Joe doesn’t give off a hint of that world. All manly possessiveness. I was surprised when he let me kiss Sandy while she was in his arms … but I think he was too surprised I went for it to do anything. Especially when Sandy didn’t seem to mind.

  Joe gives Sandy a minute to answer questions about her game before he brings our attention back to Estes Park.

  Strider (Dillon’s character)

  Snowy Peaks Family Winery is our target. We will have to walk about a mile through the forest to get there from the little cave we have made our temporary home base. I drop a kiss on my now sparkling Nozomi before the three of us head out.

  “So, we’re openly kissing Nozomi now.” Lynda giggles.

  “Could I have one?” Zack asks.

  As an afterthought, I also give Goliath’s stone form a peck on the wrist, the only socially acceptable place in that I can reach. Maybe kissing statues will give me good luck.

  “Can I give Dillon inspiration for that?” Zack demands.

  “We’re not going to get anything done this session, are we?” Joe whines. “Actually, I think that would be fun. Pass Dillon a D8. Social rolls only and you must invoke Goliath’s name in order to roll it.”

  “Because Goliath comes up in social conversation all the time,” I grumble. Joe just grins.

  The three of us make our way towards the mountain town. In the day, the forest is pleasant. Not so dark that it blots out the warm sun, the floor is a carpet of soft brown pine needles and the air smells divine after our trials in the witch’s realm.

  “Charlie Becket, it has been a few years,” Derek Force greets me by one of my aliases. Derek is a bear of a man. Tall, broad, and covered in curly dark brown hair, he looks like he belongs in a forest chopping wood. Not handing out delicate wine glasses.

  “Derek,” I respond with genuine pleasure. “It’s good to see you too, I’m excited to taste some wines.” I introduce my associates and go through the traditional small talk. He, of course, brings out his best wines for one of his best customers.

  “I also need something else,” I say as our transaction nears completion. I see Ruby’s eyes studying the kids’ play area. It’s not unusual to see Derek’s own daughter playing there. Though today it’s empty. I focus on questioning Derek.

  “I find things have changed a bit since my last visit,” I say carefully. Derek is
human; he knows nothing of the supernatural world. “I’m going be blunt. Are there gangs or Mafia in Estes Park?”

  “Do you trust your girls?” Derek asks carefully, eyeing Ruby and Trixy.

  “With my fortune,” I confirm.

  “I would tell anyone else no, but for you? Yes, until recently we have never had an issue with the Giirdses; they have been running Estes for years. We pay our protection tax and everything works out fine. But some weird stuff has been going on …”

  He tells us about sightings of large flying bats and creatures he thought only existed in movies. I can see beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he speaks. His eyes wander nervously; he’s leaving something out.

  “Has someone threatened your family?” Ruby cuts in.

  “It’s not like that in the mountains,” he insists quickly.

  “This is the first family-friend winery I have ever been in,” Ruby says. “I was so happy to see the playroom. But it looks abandon.”

  I see Derek’s expression waffle.

  “Let us help you,” Ruby pleads. “Kids are the most innocent.”

  “They arrived over six months ago.” Derek breaks down. “I knew the Poogses were bad news, but the Kaatse family have started a war. The Giirdse family have lost their reach and us small fries on the edges are starting to get caught in the crossfire. They let my daughter get kidnapped, I know I’m not supposed to speak against the family. But my daughter! I have called the police and they can’t do anything.”

  “Why can’t they do anything?” Trixy asks, her brow furrowed.

  “Because my story sounds insane! If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I would be checking myself into a looney bin.”

  “What did you see?” Ruby asks.

  I’m happy for her to keep the lead on this. Derek describes a massive red skinned man with wings and he draws the Kaatse family symbol with his finger on the table – the simple upside-down pentagram easily recognizable.

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Reality, Tetreazy

  Pearl Street is lovely in the fresh snow. Its many statues and decorative lamps become dusted with white. Stores already have their holiday displays up and the city has wrapped every post and tree in white, twinkling, nondenominational cheer.

  Dillon Dempsey

  I leave Joe’s house right after D&D ends, my mind a jumbled mess. Our heated make-out session with Sandy the day before had been impulsive. One of the hottest kisses I had ever been a part of. I know Joe doesn’t like to talk about things and I would have brought it up if I stayed and chilled. That or Joe would have brought up pressing charges on Amorino again. I agree with Joe. But Amorino has years of control over Sandy. Joe and I telling her what to do is counterproductive. I’m at a loss as to how to help her.

  I find myself hanging out with Joe more often than expected, we just kept finding things we have in common. I wanted to hate him, but he’s one of my people now. We have been viewing each other as rivals over Sandy. It’s an interesting thought: maybe it doesn’t need to be that way.

  I catch one of the many buses that heads into town, unwilling to be alone with my thoughts. I need to get my mind off that kiss. I find myself walking through the Tetris entry way to the back room of Tetreazy, my eyes scanning for a game needing a player. I blink a few times when I see Sandy, a game set up in front of her, reading something on her e-book. I drink in her form even though she hasn’t changed in the thirty minutes we have been separated.

  “Dillon, I didn’t know you were coming here tonight,” she says once she notices me.

  “I honestly didn’t know what I was doing tonight,” I confess.

  “Do you want to play Splendor?” Sandy asks, gesturing to the game she has set up.

  “As long as it isn’t interrupting your plans.”

  We’re being overly polite; the dynamics of our friendship have changed, and I was the one that forced it. Blake and his stupid advice. And Joe not pushing me away when I joined them on the couch. What was I thinking?

  “I’ll find a different place.” Sandy starts to gather her stuff. I have been quiet for too long.

  “No, stay.” I force confidence into my voice. “May I join you?”

  “Are you ready to get your butt kicked?” she answers with a soft smile.

  Sometimes things happen for a reason. I’m not religious, but if I was, I would thank whatever deity I believe in for this evening. Although I started it with my head a jumbled, overthinking mess, I have it pretty well figured out now. I palm the box of truffles we had bought as we explored Pearl Street, the world dusted with fresh snow that’s still floating lightly down.

  This courtyard we found is amazing. Although made out of boring brick walls, they have been covered in brightly colored murals of fanciful imagination. Couches and tables are protected by fairy light covered umbrellas. The area is dotted with large silver heaters warding off the bulk of the chill.

  “Dillon, really…” Sandy starts.

  “Nope, not tonight,” I cut her off smoothly. “Stay here so no one takes our couch. Do you want coffee or hot chocolate?”

  “Hot chocolate with a shot of espresso?” Sandy requests.

  “Always trying to have it both ways?” I laugh. Sandy’s face turns beet red. Before I hurry off to fetch our drinks.

  Although Sandy isn’t one for small talk, we can’t stop from pointing out the details on the murals, a pig with a unicorn horn hides in a bush of purples and greens right behind us. Our friendship has changed, and instead of fearing it, I need to dive in head first.

  “May I kiss you?” I ask after one of her giggles fades.

  “Dillon, if you have to ask, then I don’t want you to kiss me,” Sandy tells me.

  “But if I don’t ask, would you want me to kiss you?” I ask, confused.

  “When we talk about it, it becomes a thing,” Sandy deflects.

  “Sandy, I want it to become a thing.” I turn towards her and clasp one of her hands. “I want to share your brilliance. I want to hold you when you cry. I want to bathe in your smiles every day. I want to do dirty things to your body that will make you beg for more. I know we haven’t even gone on a real date, but I’m head over heels for you. I can’t just sit by and watch anymore.”

  I flip over her hand and place a kiss on her palm. I see a single tear slide down her cheek.

  “May I kiss you?” I ask again, softer.

  Sandy doesn’t answer, she just leans forward. Her breath smells like hot chocolate. I wrap my arms around her and pull her to me, hungrily devouring her mouth. I am encouraged when she wraps her arms around me as well and parts her lips. My hands explore her backside as our tongues dance. I’m loathed to pull away, but we both need air. I find our remaining truffle and Sandy takes a bite leaving me the other half. A few flakes of snow make it past the top of the heaters and sparkle behind her as I savor the sweet/rich chocolate in my mouth.

  “I don’t mind sharing, for now, while you figure out who you are and what you want,” I murmur. “But promise me you will take care of yourself first. Promise me that you will fight against whatever pull Amorino has over you. Because you are worth more than all three of us combined.”

  Sandy’s eyes widen. Joy, surprise, fear, emotions swirl in her eyes and I quickly kiss them away. When we come up for air this time, I can’t help but bring her kiss swollen lips in for a final peck.

  “I promise,” Sandy manages to say. I intend to hold her to it.

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  Reality, Denver Pavilions

  A maze of glass and brushed steel, the Denver Pavilions shopping outlet is filled with massive chain stores, small kiosks, and bright lights. The white floor is polished to a shine and reflects the colorful holiday displays of goods and products one may or may not need in today’s world.

  Joe Smartin

  “I thought you needed help shopping for your mom?” Sandy asks, reminding me of the white lie I used to get her to the mall.

  “Nope, we’re
finding you a dress,” I confirm a second time.

  “When am I ever going to wear a fancy dress?” she scoffs.

  “Why, to a formal dance,” I answer easily. I can’t believe this wasn’t the first question out of her mouth when I brought this up weeks ago. Am I interested in formal dancing? Not even remotely. Is it a part of military formality and a key to promotion? Absolutely. Sandy can think it’s just a dance, but for me it’s a networking gold mine.

  “What formal dance?” Sandy asks suspiciously.

  “The one you’re going to accompany me to,” I answer easily.

  “I don’t own the right clothing for this. Or the right temperament.”

  “That’s why we’re fixing one of those now and the other one we can work on together,” I say sweetly. I even bat my eyes at her and Sandy’s eyes blink rapidly in response – deer caught in headlights, one of my favorite looks on her.

  “And you just assumed I would say yes?” Her expression is one of disbelief.

  “I wasn’t going to give you a chance to say no.”

  “Ugh, you’re looking for arm candy. I’ll see if Betty is free.” Sandy offers up her friend on a silver platter.

  I will not lie, Betty has amazing curves, but I don’t want Betty, I want Sandy. “Nope, only you will do.”

  “Fine, but only if I can find a dress,” Sandy relents and then grins. “The mall closes at six on Sunday, so I just need to stall for four more hours and I’m off the hook.”

  “Challenge accepted,” I smile.

  Thinking she has the upper hand, she follows me to the dress store one of my coworkers recommended … one of my coworkers that hates shopping as much as I do. We walk to the back.

  “Reservation for Sandy Yuhi,” I say to the young girl behind the counter.