Page 11 of Run, Run, Roommates
There’s a round of applause, with Brin clapping enthusiastically next to me. Everyone is excited for the next few days, but I’m dreading it. I’ve been able to avoid the worst of holiday cheer for the past few years, but this time, I’m going to be drowning in it.
All this scavenger hunt is going to do is remind me of the worst two Christmases of my life.
6
Brin
Listening to this woman revving us up full of holiday cheer with a booming voice and an exuberant slideshow should be exactly my jam, but Greg at my side feels like I’m being haunted with the ghost of a bad date.
Greg, the man that I met last year on Sugary.
As the woman up front is talking about the organizations that will benefit from the event, I tug at the hat on my head—a warm and slouchy knit cap that covers my hair. That’s probably why he doesn’t recognize me—my red hair would be a dead giveaway.
“SHiNY Season is Scavenger Hunt in New York’s newest event to celebrate the most generous time of year.”
I shift closer to Marco. I had no idea that he knew Greg, but I shouldn’t be surprised. They’re cut from the same cloth. Handsome white guys, more comfortable in suits, eager to please their bosses, cutthroat when they have to be.
Marco denies being a nice guy. Greg only thinks he’s a nice guy.
And now I’ve got Greg sitting right next to me, a friend of Marco’s, who’s got my whole body on edge, and not in a good way. I hate the shame that runs through me. I still can’t believe I signed up for a sugar daddy app, but I bet Greg didn’t even think twice about it.
“SHiNY already has an annual event, RUSH NY, which will be in its seventh year next summer,” the woman on stage says. It draws my attention back to her, and just in time. “Just like RUSH, SHiNY Season will benefit nine charitable organizations chosen by the board. This year’s recipients are . . .”
She runs through the list, taking a moment to talk about each organization. It’s a variety—from an animal shelter to a community farm. I’m impressed, actually. I was a smidge worried that we’d be supporting some nonsense organization for a tax write-off for the wealthy, but I’ve heard of a few of these charities.
When she’s done, she turns to logistics. “Each team will get access to the Discord server in a few minutes. There are two types of challenges: open challenges, which you’ll be given a list of today and can be completed anytime; and burst challenges, which are open to all participating teams for a limited time.”
She clicks to the next screen, which displays a points rubric.
“This is how you’ll be scored. Every task description will include how many points you will collect from completing it. At the end, points will be awarded to each team for creativity. Those points will be decided by our panel of judges and awarded on December twenty-seventh, followed by the final tally. Creativity counts for forty percent of your points, so don’t be in such a rush to complete a task that you forget to do it with flair.”
Next to me, Marco shifts and leans into me. “Holiday flair, huh? That makes you my secret weapon.”
Greg’s head turns, listening and watching Marco and me.
I smile, but it feels wobbly and of course Marco notices, doing a double take, his brows drawing together in confusion, or maybe concern.
Mentally shaking myself, I try again, and this smile feels better. Marco’s frown eases a bit, and he turns back to the presenter.
“We are so thrilled this year to announce that we have some of the highest pledges on record. Pledges are per point awarded to the team, so the more tasks you accomplish, with as much flair as possible, the more you’ll raise for charity. If you’re familiar with the other scavenger hunts that SHiNY has run in the past, you’ll know that no team will score a perfect hundred points. The team with the most points, however, will receive a position of honor at the celebration party, a bundle of gifts donated by our generous sponsors, and the ability to direct ten percent of the funds raised to an organization of their choosing.”
There are murmurs of excitement all around the room. Marco and Greg raise eyebrows at each other over my head.
The woman smiles out at the crowd. “I’m glad you’re as excited as we are. But if I can have your attention for one last minute, I’ll let you go to start the game. Your first task is waiting for you at the back door as you leave: a box of toys, with all the supplies necessary to wrap and deliver the gifts to Toys for Tots. And now . . .” She clicks to the next slide, and a QR code fills the screen. “Let the games begin.”
Marco insists on paying for a ride home, which is fine with me. The box full of toys and supplies isn’t heavy but it’s bulky and cumbersome. After Marco and I scanned the QR code and joined the Discord server, we had shuffled slowly out of the hall behind everyone else waiting to get their box of toys. I had to spend most of that time staring at the back of Greg’s head . . . er, his shoulders, because he’s taller than me.
Okay, it was his shoulder blades. Fine, whatever, I’m short. Most of the time I hate it, because men already feel intimidating as it is. It’s a rare man whose height makes me feel safe.
Like Marco behind me right now, a reassuring hand on the small of my back as we wade through the crowd. We get separated from Greg and don’t see him again, thank god. I don’t want to give him a chance to recognize me, to bring up how we’ve met before.
Back at our apartment, I immediately begin unpacking the box, while Marco brings his laptop out of our room and sits on the couch, his long legs stretching out in front of him.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Creating a strategy. What are you doing?”
I throw my hands out and survey the mess around me. I’ve already un-shrink-wrapped one of the rolls of wrapping paper—a shiny vaguely wintery silver—and stacked the toys according to size. “Earning us points. I only have half an hour before I need to leave for work.”
