Between the Stacks

Chapter 16

I didn't feel shame walking next to a guy in a pasta-themed sweater. Clearly Jack didn't feel the same sentiment. "Let's just swing by my car," he said as we walked down the sidewalk. The sunset painted downtown Cherryhill with swaths of pink and orange. "I'll change my shirt."

"You mean you don't always wear outfits with pasta on them? There are so many pastabilities."

It was meant to be a dumb joke. Jack just ignored it as he took his car keys out of his pocket and walked up to a Corolla parked on the road near the restaurant.

I could have handled mocking laughter, or expected an eye roll, but the silence made me feel a bit uneasy.

He slid into the backseat of his car and emerged a few minutes later in a dark t-shirt. The cute pasta sweater was long gone. "There," he said, pulling at the hem. I noticed he had also fixed his hair: the smell of hairspray had enveloped me before he shut the door. "Now I feel like myself."

"You don't feel like yourself when you're performing?" I asked. Jack locked the car and we started walking again.

"As myself, yes," he said. He turned down a side street. "As Mr. Oodles, no. That just pays the bills. I don't think I would willingly subject myself to all that screaming."

I didn't say anything. I felt like a children's performer should, you know, like children.

I told myself that there were lots of people who were good at their jobs who didn't necessarily like what they did. At the end of the day, bills did need to be paid, and I couldn't judge. I was hoping the rest of the evening could give me clarity on whether or not Jack would be a good fit for a Northern Ridge performance.

"So where exactly are we going?" I asked.

Jack pointed up at the building next to us. "We're actually here."

"It's...a tailor?" I said. The lights were off, and they were clearly closed.

"No, silly," he laughed. "Beside it."

I hadn't noticed the small path beside the building that led to the back. A wooden sign had been posted that said Boards Not Bored. Fairy lights lit up the path.

"What is this place?" I asked as we made our way to the back of the building.

Jack opened the door. "Have you ever been to a board game café?"

I had not. As I stepped inside I was hit with a sensory explosion. Every wall was covered with shelves that held a colorful array of board games; TVs hung from any open space, where people played video games. Bursts of shouting and laughter came from the tables that lined the main room. The tables were strewn with all sorts of complicated game pieces. A few players had food; my stomach growled when I saw a waiter with a plate of fries walk by.

Since it was a Saturday night we had to wait a few minutes for an open table. We hung out at the bar, where Jack apologized and fiddled with his phone. "Just confirming another booking," he said.

I sipped my water. I still felt a little off-kilter, unsure of what exactly I was doing here. I had gone to see Jack at the restaurant to see the suitability of his performance, and now I was at a board game café with him. That didn't seem like it had anything to do with work. But I also wasn't getting date vibes - besides, I wasn't sure if I could ever be interested in a man who didn't laugh at my pasta jokes.

But it felt too late to back out. I was stuck.

A table opened up just as I was calculating the minimum amount of games I would need to play in order to not appear rude. I followed the waiter to a table for four against the window that looked out onto a small courtyard. I took the seat closest to the window. Jack sat opposite.