Ashley straightened like she'd just been handed a microphone in a courtroom drama. "Oh yeah! I got a bone to pick with you, Mount Lady."
Roxie blinked, startled. "I—what?"
Emily pointed accusingly with her straw. "Did you know you've completely wrecked our League ranking?"
Ashley slapped the table. "Totally annihilated. Mid-silver to—Em?"
"Wood IV," Emily deadpanned.
"WOOD, Roxie. That's not even a real rank."
Roxie blinked. "Wait, Dianna plays?"
"She used to," Ashley shot back, gesturing dramatically. "But now? Now she'd rather spend her precious mortal hours listening to you prattle on about brushwork and eat your home-cooked food than log in with her team!"
"She bakes bread, you monsters," Dianna mumbled.
Emily jumped in. "And even when she does log on, she drones on about you! We get obliterated in bottom lane while she's describing lentil stew!"
Ashley gasped. "You remember when she was like, 'Her kitchen smells like heaven we don't deserve,' and we got wiped in under two minutes?"
Roxie had both hands to her face. "I didn't—this wasn't—I'm so sorry?"
Emily waved her off. "Don't apologize, we love it. We just also love winning. You've destroyed that."
"I mean, it's impressive," Ashley added. "You're like a boss-level enchantress who doesn't even try."
Roxie peeked between her fingers. "I made lentils once..."
"Once?" Dianna scoffed. "Tell them about the time you made fresh naan."
Ashley shrieked. "She made bread from scratch?! Are you trying to ruin us?!"
"Roxie," Emily said gravely. "On behalf of our MMR, we forgive you. But only if you feed us too."
Elizabeth sipped her drink. "Justice for bot lane."
Tiny leaned back, hands behind his head, grinning. "Told you, Big Momma. You got no idea the kinda damage you do."
Dianna groaned. "Y'all suck."
"Nope," Ashley said. "You do. At League. And at hiding your giant lesbian crush."
Roxie turned scarlet.
Dianna flinched. "I will burn your entire character sheet!"
Ashley grinned. "Too late. We backed it up to Dropbox."
Jorge, quiet until now, nodded solemnly. "Yep. She's been skipping band practice, too."
Dianna bolted upright. "Hey—!"
Jorge raised a hand. "She bailed on a show two weeks ago. Because she had to teach you Dead of Winter."
Roxie's eyes widened. "Wait… I thought you said you didn't have plans that night!"
Dianna threw her arms out. "I invited you guys too! And that club owner was handsy! It just… lined up!"
Ashley crossed her arms. "So you skipped a gig and a ranked match? For game night and girl cuddles?"
"There were no cuddles!" Dianna yelped. "Just strategy and cooperative tension!"
"Cooperative tension," Emily said, wiggling her eyebrows.
"Oh my God," Dianna groaned.
Jorge raised his slushie. "To cooperative tension."
Elizabeth clinked hers. "And handsy club owners getting one warning."
Roxie, caught between mortification and joy, smiled at Dianna. "You taught me that game for four hours."
Dianna peeked through her hair. "Yeah? So?"
"You let me win."
"No I didn't."
"You played a suicidal betrayal card because I said my character was 'emotionally tired.'"
"…that was a valid tactical decision."
"You died so my little imaginary children could live."
Tiny raised a hand. "Okay but like… actual couple goals?"
Dianna shoved a fry in her mouth. "Y'all act like I'm not completely feral."
Emily patted her arm. "You're not. You're in loooo...." Ashley's hand shot out and clamped over Em's mouth with a shake of her head. And Emily didn't fight it. It wasn't their place to put that word out into the universe.
Dianna choked. Roxie flushed like a fire alarm had gone off in her soul.
Elizabeth calmly refilled her water. "This night just keeps giving."
Tiny leaned in. "Now look," he began, addressing Roxie. "Before you get too far down this road, Big Momma, you oughta be warned."
Roxie blinked. "Warned?"
He thumbed at Dianna. "This one? Bad influence. Real bad. Did she tell you any of her adventures?"
Dianna narrowed her eyes. "Tiny…"
Tiny grinned. "Did she mention the time she stole a cop's horse and rode it through a rave, stark naked?"
Roxie choked.
"She was glittered," Emily offered. "Not naked. Glitter counts."
Dianna snapped, "I told you that story in confidence!"
Tiny shrugged. "Told us hell! We were there! You did it in front of us! After four shots of Fireball and a dare from Ashley."
Ashley raised her hands. "I just said, 'bet you won't.'"
"And I did!" Dianna shouted.
Elizabeth chimed in. "The horse loved her. Didn't even buck."
"She gave it a glowstick necklace," Emily said reverently. "Like a knight anointing her steed."
Dianna groaned. "I am going to die."
But Roxie was laughing—helplessly, warmly.
"I rode a horse once," she said between giggles. "At a petting zoo. I fell off."
Dianna peeked through her fingers. "Did not expect that to be your takeaway."
"You gave a horse a glowstick necklace."
"Yeah. And then I threw up on a bouncer. It was a journey."
Elizabeth added, "Only reason she didn't get deported is she brought it back, tied it up, and the cop called her a 'smoking little Lady Godiva.' Offered her a ride anytime." The word ride carried a very distinct inflection.
Dianna gagged. "I regret everything."
Tiny raised his glass. "To naked horse girls, bad decisions, and horny cops!"
"CHEERS!"
Tiny took a long drink. "Who wants to tell the tuba story?"
"Oh God," Dianna groaned. "Not the tuba."
Ashley lit up. "Oh yes, the tuba."
Roxie blinked. "What tuba?"
"The one she launched across the gym," Jorge said.
"In my defense—" Dianna started.
"There is no defense," Elizabeth said. "You were drunk. On screwdrivers. At ten in the morning."
"It was Homecoming!"
"You tried to fight a brass band," Emily said, voice cracking.
"He was looking at me funny!"
"He was blind in one eye!" Jorge cried.
"He was practicing scales!" Ashley shrieked.
"I thought he said, 'damn, girl,'" Dianna muttered.
"He said B-flat," Elizabeth replied.
"He blew one note and she went ballistic." Jorge added.
"She stormed the bandstand," Emily giggled, "and yelled, 'say that again, ya brass-blowing pervert!'"
Roxie stared, wide-eyed. "Did you… actually hit someone?"
"No," Ashley said. "She grabbed another tuba—and yeeted it."
"It sounded like a dying whale and a car crash," Jorge said.
"The janitor called it a 'windpipe homicide,'" Elizabeth added.
"She knocked over three trumpets, scared the clarinet players to death and tripped over a cymbal on the way out," Emily said.
"She screamed 'this isn't over' as they escorted her out," Ashley finished.
Roxie was giggling uncontrollably. "What happened to the band?"
"They took state," Elizabeth said. "They wrote a fight song about her."
"It's called 'Tuba Ferox,'" Jorge added. "It slaps."
"I was defending my honor…" Dianna mumbled.
"Di, baby," Ashley said sweetly, "you were in a crop top that said 'MILF in Training.' You had no honor to defend."
"I hate you all," Dianna groaned.
"But we love you," Emily said, looping her arm through Dianna's. "Even if you declare war on musical instruments."
"Especially then," Ashley agreed.
And Roxie?
She just shook her head, smiling. Her voice came soft, almost reverent.
"You're insane," she murmured. "But you make a really good story."
Ashley was halfway into her second margarita when she squinted across the booth. "Wait. We haven't even gotten to the women yet."
Dianna froze mid-sip. "No. No we are not doing this."
"Oh yes we are," Emily said, eyes gleaming like gossip was blood in the water. "Tell her about the barista."
Roxie blinked. "The what?"
Ashley leaned forward, practically vibrating. "She had a one-night stand with a barista who left her a Yelp review. Said—and I quote—'the tastiest pussy in four counties.'"
Tiny sprayed beer across the table. "For real?!"
Elizabeth didn't flinch. "It had five stars. She posted it on a corkboard above the espresso machine like it was her resume."
Roxie's mouth fell open. "Is that legal?!"
"It was laminated," Emily added.
"I hate every single one of you," Dianna muttered, pulling her shirt up like a goblin retreating into its cave.
"And then," Ashley said, pulling the next pin from the grenade, "the Ren Fest girls."
Roxie turned, eyes wide. "Girls? Plural?!"
Emily looked scandalized. "She didn't tell you about the tiefling twins?!"
"I thought that was a myth!" Jorge gasped.
"Oh no," Elizabeth said, sipping her drink. "That happened. The one in leather did aerial silks and the other did henna tattoos and shoulder bites."
Dianna thumped her head against the booth. "It was supposed to be a sword fight demonstration. I tripped. Things escalated."
"She got fake-kidnapped into their yurt," Ashley whispered.
"And she stayed," Emily added with reverence.
Roxie was clinging to her drink like it might stop the spinning world. "I don't even know what a yurt is."
"Dianna does," Elizabeth murmured. "Intimately."
"I can't be here," Dianna croaked. "I'm leaving my own body."
Roxie, red-faced and visibly struggling not to laugh, buried her face in Dianna's shoulder and mumbled, "I thought I had a past…"
"You have a Pinterest board," Ashley said. "She has an oral history."
Tiny raised his glass again. "To the tiefling twins. Wherever they are."
Emily snapped her fingers. "Oh! Oh! Are we skipping over the duel?!"
Roxie blinked. "What duel?"
Ashley gasped like someone had committed sacrilege. "The Ren Fest duel. The one where two of her girlfriends fought over her in full armor with actual swords."
Dianna groaned. "Blunted swords. And they weren't my girlfriends. Not at the same time."
"They were competitors in the Royal Melee!" Emily cried, full drama. "And then you showed up in leather pants and a corset top and called them both 'milady' within ten minutes—"
"Because it was raining and I needed shelter!" Dianna hissed.
Elizabeth arched a brow. "Is that what the kids are calling it now?"
Tiny leaned in, fascinated. "Wait. So you're tellin' me two sword lesbians fought to the fake-death over your bisexual disaster energy?"
"There were judges," Jorge said. "And a crowd. And someone played the lute. I saw the video. She looked like Helen of Troy but with more eyeliner and less diplomacy."
"I didn't mean for it to happen!" Dianna wailed.
"You wore your fangs and kissed both of them on the cheek before the match," Ashley said, deadpan. "They curtsied before trying to take each other's heads off."
"They were in chainmail, Di," Emily whispered reverently. "Chainmail. For you."
Roxie looked like she was living through someone else's fever dream. "Were there rules?"
"Oh, they had a ref," Elizabeth confirmed. "It was regulated by the Society for Creative Anachronism."
Dianna thudded her head on the table again. "One of them was a fencing coach! I thought they were just doing a warm-up!"
"And then they both tried to give her their favor," Ashley said, nearly crying. "One handed her a silk ribbon. The other offered her a severed foam ear."
Roxie just wheezed. "A what?!"
"A trophy," Jorge whispered. "A symbol of devotion."
"I kissed the one with the ribbon and then ran," Dianna mumbled. "I panicked."
"You fled the tourney grounds on foot," Elizabeth added. "And tripped into the caramel apple cart."
"It was sticky," Dianna growled.
"You're lucky they didn't declare you Queen of Misrule," Ashley said.
"Or ban you for war crimes," Emily added.
Dianna turned to Roxie, utterly defeated. "Please don't leave me."
Roxie, eyes wide, voice barely above a whisper: "This is the best day of my life."
Ashley fanned herself with a napkin. "Oh really, church girl? We got more."
Roxie blinked, suspicious. "What now?"
"Oh, don't worry, she's done worse," Elizabeth said, lifting her glass. "You wanna hear about the time she picked a fight with a Rembrandt?"
Roxie froze. "What?"
Ashley smacked the table. "Yesss. That story."
"Oh yes," Emily sighed, blissful. "We'd just come from a wine tasting—Dianna was already three flights deep into 'I could fight Hercules and win' energy."
"So naturally," Elizabeth continued smoothly, "we end up at the museum. Free admission day. No plan. No adult supervision. We lose track of her for two minutes—two—and find her standing in front of St. George and the Dragon, absolutely seething."
"She was muttering under her breath," Ashley said, voice hushed like it was a ghost story. "'Dragon never had a trial.' 'What even is due process to these guys?' 'That horse looks like a cop.'"
"She called St. George a narc," Jorge added. "Said he was profiling reptiles."
"She tried to headbutt the painting," Elizabeth declared. "Knocked herself out cold. Right there in the middle of the gallery."
Roxie gasped, horrified. "She what?!"
"She charged the exhibit like it owed her rent," Emily confirmed. "Boom. Right into the bulletproof glass."
Tiny raised his glass. "And that's the day she got banned from the Museum of Fine Arts for... What did that lady say? I wanna get this right." He snapped his fingers to help himself remember. "That's what it was... 'performative medievalist dissent.'"
"I was making a point!" Dianna shouted from her now-permanent face-down position. "That dragon was just vibing and the guy rolled up in plate mail like a neighborhood watch officer!"
"He was stabbing it!" Roxie cried.
Dianna lifted her head just long enough to mutter, "And that's the problem."
Ashley cackled. "You really picked a theological fight with a Baroque painting."
Roxie clutched her drink like a rosary. "That's… sacrilege."
"She tried to lick the frame, Roxie," Emily whispered.
"She was trying to taste injustice," Elizabeth deadpanned.
Ashley fanned herself with a napkin and gave Roxie a look over her drink.
"So… you still think she's just misunderstood and kind of sweet?"
Roxie blinked. The grin on her lips faltered just a little as she glanced down.
Dianna was laughing, half-curled in her lap, her mesh top rumpled from all the chaos—still translucent enough to show the soft line of her black bra beneath. Her cheeks were flushed, mouth parted in that perfect, lopsided smile. But her shoulders… her shoulders had gone still. Her eyes weren't quite meeting anyone's.
Roxie saw it. The kind of tension that curled in under your ribs. That old, bone-deep fear that you're too much, too loud, too messy to be loved. That this was the moment—this one, right here—where the person you wanted most would finally see you clearly… and pull away.
Instead, Roxie tightened her arms just slightly around her.
Not a grand gesture. Not a sweeping speech.
Just a breath against Dianna's temple, and a quiet voice that carried anyway.
"Well, that's okay," Roxie said. "We all do things we aren't proud of."
She swallowed.
"All I can say is… I'm boring."
That earned her a blink. Dianna tilted back to look at her, startled. But Roxie kept going, gentle and honest.
"I've never done anything cool in my life. I'm an eighteen-year-old virgin. I've never dated anyone. Never kissed anyone. Definitely never made love to anyone. The most exciting part of my day is hearing about the wild, ridiculous, probably-illegal things Dianna Rodgers has survived."
A snort tried to escape Dianna. Roxie only smiled.
"My old friends… most of them stopped talking to me after I missed too many plans. Because I get distracted. I get lost in light on water or a tree against the sky and I forget time exists. I space out so hard I forget what day it is. I am the world's biggest, most boring flake."
She exhaled, her smile going soft.
"So… maybe I'm not the right person to judge anyone's past. But I think…" Her voice quieted. "I think your stories are beautiful. Because you're still here. And somehow, you're still good. That's not something to be ashamed of."
Dianna just stared at her for a second. Her throat worked. Her eyes were suddenly shiny.
There was a beat of silence. Not awkward—reverent, almost. And then—
"AWWWWWW!" Ashley cried, flinging her arms in the air like a Muppet. "You two are disgusting!"
"I want to cuddle the shit out of you," Emily groaned, burying her face in her hands, "and then puke in my own purse."
Jorge raised his drink. "To weaponized wholesomeness. May we never recover."
Tiny made a gagging noise. "I got cavities just watchin' that."
Dianna had gone pink to the ears, hands balled in the fabric of Roxie's shirt. Roxie, for her part, just beamed—scarlet and beaming.
Elizabeth didn't say a word.
She sipped her drink slowly, one leg crossed over the other, eyes trained not on the couple but on the table. On the aftermath. On the battlefield of a girl who had been spiraling, and the church girl who had stormed in, soft and clumsy and brave, to crack a joke and carry the blast herself.
She didn't need to say it out loud. Not yet. But she thought it, loud enough that the walls should've echoed with it:
Dianna. Don't fuck this up.
She just dove on a societal grenade for you.
Tiny blinked, then leaned forward like a man hearing gossip from God Himself.
"Hold up," he said slowly. "Virgin virgin?"
Ashley dropped her drink. "Like—not even kissed?!"
Roxie, already red, nodded. "Um. Once. On the cheek. At church camp. But it was mostly 'peace be with you.'"
Emily shrieked like a vacuum cleaner with a clog "You mean to tell me this entire time—this whole time—you've been walking around lookin' like a Greek goddess with a built-in blush filter and you've never—?!"
"Nobody was really interested! I was six foot five at 13! And besides..." Roxie squeaked. "I was waiting for… I don't know. Something real?"
Ashley gasped. "Ma'am. Ma'am, I am filing a formal complaint with the universe."
"You're an 18-year-old airbrushed pin-up model with social anxiety and the moral compass of a Disney protagonist," Emily groaned. "Where is the justice?"
"She bakes!" Elizabeth added flatly. "From scratch."
"She paints!" Jorge tossed in. "She feeds strays! She reads Latin!"
"She's jacked!" Ashley wailed. "Like bench-press-me-through-a-wall levels of jacked!"
"She's got—" Emily made vague, reverent gestures at Roxie's general everything, "—those thighs."
"I caught her on the roof last week, reciting poetry and feeding seagulls," Dianna grumbled, arms crossed—but the tips of her ears were glowing pink.
"You knew about this," Ashley snapped, pointing at her. "You've been hoarding the world's last honest Catholic schoolgirl like a dragon hoards treasure!"
"She's not a..." Dianna said, then paused "Actually. No. No, that tracks."
Roxie groaned and dropped her face into Dianna's hair. "Please stop talking about me like I'm not here."
"Sweetheart," Elizabeth said, lifting her glass, "you ceased to be a person the moment you said you've never even kissed anyone properly. You are now a myth."
Tiny was grinning so hard it looked painful. "Wait. So. What you're sayin' is… we got a real-life, seven-foot-tall, radiant-blush, cinnamon-roll virgin living with a bisexual vampire in a beach condo?"
"Yes," Dianna deadpanned.
"God bless America," Tiny said reverently.
Emily whistled. "And this is the dynamic you've been hiding from us?"
Ashley raised her slushie. "To Roxie. The hottest innocent since Sailor Moon."
Jorge clinked. "May her thighs be ever merciful."
Dianna just shook her head, muttering under her breath.
Elizabeth, quiet once again, looked over the chaos. Her eyes flicked from the blush in Roxie's cheeks to the way Dianna curled her fingers a little tighter, possessive without meaning to be. She didn't speak. But in the quiet of her mind, the thought echoed again.
Don't fuck this up, Di.