Chapter 31 Luke
THIRTY-ONE
LUKE
I’m so sick of being sad.
It’s been months. Not weeks—five fucking long months of sadness. Of pretending for the team, for my friends, for everyone who looks at me as if I might fall apart if they breathe too loud.
But I’m done.
Done crying over a guy who left me without even so much as a glance back over his shoulder. Done waiting for a message that won’t come. Done carrying around the heartbreak as if it’s some kind of armor.
I need to remember what it feels like to laugh so hard my stomach hurts. To scream at Mario Kart and eat too much popcorn and be with the people who make me feel like me again.
Tonight, I’m taking my joy back.
I poke my head into the shared living space where Will’s half-eating, half-analyzing a slice of leftover pizza, while Ty scrolls on his phone from upside-down on the couch.
“We’re having a game night,” I announce.
Will raises a brow. “We are?”
“Tonight,” I say. “Here. Full crew.”
Ty flips over and squints at me. “Are you… okay?”
“No,” I say honestly. “But I’m done acting like I’m not allowed to try to be. So we’re doing Mario Kart, popcorn, and enough sugar to kill a man.”
Will grins. “I’ll grab the popcorn machine.”
I head to my room to fire off the group text.
Me: Game night. Tonight. My dorm room. No excuses.
Me: Bring controllers. Bring your trash talk.
Colton: Do I smell pizza?
Me: You will.
Daniel: I’m bringing my new roommate Quinn. Don’t be weird.
Micah: I’m always weird.
Todd: Logan and I can’t make it. Next time.
Me: Bummer. I wanted everyone here.
Max: I’ll bring gummy bears.
Eli: You can just say you missed us.
Me: Shut up and show up.
Just before eight, there’s a knock at the door, then it swings open without waiting for a response.
“Party’s here!” Colton yells, carrying in four Hot N Ready pizzas.
Micah and Max trail behind him, arguing over whether pineapple belongs on pizza, both carrying armfuls of snacks. Eli brings up the rear with twelve packs of soda in each hand.
Ty yells from the kitchen, “Shoes off at the door! I’m not vacuuming Cheetos dust out of the carpet again!”
“Tell that to Max,” Micah mutters, kicking off his sneakers anyway. “He’s basically made of Cheetos. I think he’s addicted to the stuff.”
“I resent that,” Max says. “I am at least fifty percent Sour Patch Kids.”
The last to arrive is Daniel—and with him, someone new.
Quinn lingers just behind him, eyes a little wide as he takes everything in.
He’s cute in a nerdy, painfully awkward kind of way—oversized hoodie, scuffed Converse, and glasses that keep sliding down his nose every time he looks up.
His hair looks like it’s been nervously finger-combed a dozen times before he walked in.
“This is Quinn,” Daniel says as he drops a bag of chips on the counter. “He’s my new roommate. Be nice.”
Quinn lifts a hand in a wave. “Hi. I, uh… Daniel said we are playing Mario Kart, and I don’t actually know how to play.”
There’s a collective gasp, followed by several dramatic stares.
“Blasphemy,” Eli says, deadpan.
Micah clutches his chest. “How dare you walk into this sacred space uninitiated.”
“We’ll fix that,” I say, grabbing a controller and tossing it toward him. He fumbles the catch, nearly drops it, but laughs at himself. “You’re on my team.”
“Wait, wait,” Will says, already unboxing the popcorn machine. “We’re doing teams?”
“Of course we are,” I say, grabbing the pizza from Colton and setting it on the coffee table. “Four-way Battle Royale. Winner gets to pick their next partner. Loser has to film a TikTok with Will.”
Will groans. “Why am I the punishment?”
“You post inspirational thirst traps,” I deadpan.
Ty starts passing out plates. “Alright, warm-up round. Let’s see if the new guy can survive.”
Quinn sits cross-legged on the floor between Daniel and me, eyes flicking to the screen like he’s prepping for war. “If I lose, are you kicking me out?”
Max looks horrified. “If they put up with me, the Grinch, I’m sure you’ll be golden.”
And just like that, the room erupts again—laughing, shouting, someone already throwing popcorn.
For the first time in months, I’m not thinking about what’s missing. I’m not thinking about Silas.
I’m just here—in the chaos and laughter, in the wild mess of people who never stopped showing up for me.
And it feels like coming home.
“I’m choosing Yoshi,” Quinn says confidently.
“Of course you are,” Max groans. “You’ve got Yoshi energy. Bet you’re polite on the road too.”
“I use my blinker,” Quinn says, straight-faced.
“That’s disgusting,” Micah mutters. “You don’t belong here.”
“Micah drives like a GTA NPC,” Colton adds, casually leaning back against the couch. “Once saw him clip a mailbox and just keep going.”
“It was aggressively in my way, and we were late for Sunday dinner,” Micah argues.
Will, already two slices deep, wipes his mouth and points at the screen. “Can we focus, please? I’m about to ruin all of you.”
“You say that every time,” Daniel says.
“And I do ruin you. Emotionally.”
“You cried when Micah blue-shelled you last week,” Ty chimes in.
“That was a betrayal,” Will says. “We had an alliance.”
“There are no alliances in Mario Kart,” Colton says ominously. “Only suffering.”
Quinn, wide-eyed, whispers, “What have I gotten myself into?”
“A found family and deeply competitive trauma,” I say with a grin, bumping his shoulder with mine. “Welcome to the team.”
The next round starts, and it’s instant carnage. Popcorn goes flying. Someone (probably Micah) elbows me in the ribs during a particularly vicious turn. Max is cackling like a Disney villain. Daniel’s shouting, “WHY IS THE COW LEVEL SO SLIPPERY?!”
“I’m just driving in the grass,” Quinn says, frowning at his controller. “Is that bad?”
“You’ve been disqualified,” Ty deadpans. “Hand in your controller and your hopes.”
Eli throws a pillow at him. “He’s trying!”
“You ran me off the track!” Colton yells at no one in particular.
“It was the cows!” Quinn protests, panicked.
“Oh, now it’s the cows,” Micah says, mimicking him. “Classic Yoshi behavior.”
Will suddenly shrieks, “Max is camping the item boxes again!”
“I strategize!” Max shouts, holding up the controller like it’s a sword. “This is my birthright.”
“Your birthright is losing,” I mutter as I slide past him on the screen and hurl a red shell directly at his kart. “Suck it, Waluigi.”
The entire room erupts into a chorus of groans and yells. Eli falls dramatically to the floor like he’s been mortally wounded.
“Is it weird that I’m turned on?” Will asks, voice entirely too casual.
“Nope,” Ty answers. “On brand.”
Daniel rolls his eyes. “This is why we can’t have normal game nights.”
Eli nods solemnly. “This is normal.”
And just like that, someone kicks over the popcorn bowl.
Eli shrieks again. Quinn panics and presses every button at once, launching a banana directly in his own path.
Colton flops back on the couch like he’s just been eliminated from Survivor.
Micah swears he was “cheated by lag,” and Will starts quoting Fast & Furious for some reason.
I lean back on my elbows, smiling as chaos swirls around me. It’s loud. Messy. Ridiculous.
Perfect.
I’m laughing again. And it feels good.