Page 103 of Make the Play

The cowboy salutes. “Godspeed.”

I lean in behind her as she unfolds the paper, every inch of me still buzzing from the contact.

CLUE #4: Defeat the Guardian of the Golden Ticket in battle

“What the fuck does that even mean?”

Zoe doesn’t answer. She just points.

I follow her gaze and immediately regret everything. Because there, sitting on the back of a parked flatbed truck in the parking lot, wearing literal medieval armor, is a gigantic motherfucker wielding a foam sword.

He’s got a feathered plume on his helmet. A chainmail coif. A literalcape.

I drag a hand down my face. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Zoe is already grinning. “Guess we fight him.”

I turn to her slowly. “Definewe.”

She pats my chest with zero remorse. “You, obviously.”

“What, I gotta sword fight some random-ass guy for the next clue?”

“You play hockey. How hard can it be?”

I open my mouth, ready to argue, but then the dude on the truck suddenly leaps to his feet and points his foam sword directly at me.

“CHALLENGER!” he bellows. “CHOOSE YOUR WEAPON.”

Zoe lets out a startled laugh. “Oh my god, I love this.”

I shoot her a look. “You aresolucky you’re hot.”

She just blows me a kiss.

When we’re back on solid ground, with a tortured sigh, I step forward, grab the nearest foam sword, and accept my fate.

There’s no backing out now, not with Zoe’s laughter still echoing behind me. Not with my fake girlfriend bouncing on the balls of her feet with glee.

And definitely not with this adult in cosplay who raises his sword and lets out a feral war cry, charging at me in full medieval delusion.

I brace, sidestep the first swing easily, and smack him on the shoulder with a cleanthwomp.

Zoe cheers behind me. “He’s beauty, he’s grace, he’ll hit you in the face!”

But then the guy pivots way faster than I expect and bops me square in the thigh with an uppercut that actually has some weight behind it.

I stumble. Not a lot, just a step. But it’s enough to make the whole crowd gasp, dramatic as hell.

“YOU HAVE MET YOUR MATCH!” the knight roars, sounding not dissimilar to a man on an energy drink bender.

Zoe’s voice cuts through. “Chase—”

“I’m good,” I call over, gritting my teeth.

The knight drops into a crouch and starts swinging the foam sword in wide arcs, and I sigh again, giving him a flat look.

“You realize this is a lawsuit waiting to happen, right?”

---