“Lizzy and Lenora, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G…”
Tess joins in, pitch-perfect: “First comes love, then comes marriage—”
I cling to the kiss, giggling against Lenora’s lips, until Frankie crows, waving the cobbler’s hammer like a Viking storming the English shore: “Then comes a sword fight in a baby carriage!”
“Oh my god!” I blurt, torn between hiding my face and kissing her harder.
Lenora whispers into my ear, “to be continued?”
I nod, kiss her cheek, and let my fingers lace with hers before turning to face the others.
They look like a zombie biker gang wandering through an urgent care ward — blood and healing ale soaking shredded clothes and hair, dripping in streams. Yet they’re feigning snobbery, sipping fae healing ale like it’s Midleton Very Rare whiskey.
“How am I the best dressed?” I say, coughing into my fist to cover a smirk.
Tess raises her can in salute. “All hail Lizzy, owner of the only set of self-repairing clothes!”
“Ask Inanna,” I suggest. “If you’re nice, she might gift you something from her lingerie drawer in our next monster cache.”
Tess shakes her head so hard I half-expect her to go full Exorcist. Instead she topples into Jenny and Frankie, arms flailing like a B-movie zombie as she motions toward the loot. “Leader’s privilege.”
I quirk an eye and point at my chest. “Me? You’re the most experienced—”
She waves her arms in denial so hard she crashes into Lenora. “I’m a teacher. I’ll lead a class, but that’s it.”
Jenny snickers. “One-two-three, not it!”
“Can’t call the shots when I’m tanking,” Frankie adds with a relaxed grin.
Lenora deadpans, “Damn it, I’m a doctor, not a leader.”
And that leaves… “Me?”
They all stare, eyes carrying far more confidence than I feel.
“No buts,” Tess cuts in.
“I don’t know,” muses Lenora, “Lizzy has glorious glutes.”
Jenny waves a glittering finger my way. “Sculptors fantasize about curves like yours.”
“Ma’am, those glutes are combat-ready,” Frankie says without blinking.
I bury my face in my palms, peeking just enough to not trip as I shuffle toward the loot pile.
There are clothes — but… nothing a decent person would wear in public. My jest about Inanna’s underwear drawer is dead on, assuming the goddess prefers green leather booty shorts and matching bras. I check the sizes and toss pieces to my team.
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At the bottom, I find four emerald bellybutton studs and an exquisite miniature emerald, carved into a perfect replica of the leprechaun toy that once lived in Dad’s beard. Its surface is cool against my fingers, the tiny grooves precise enough to catch the light.
I swallow, passing the studs along more by reflex than thought, before settling in the cavern’s center. Childhood memories wash through me as I stroke the tiny man. Daddy… I miss you. Tears break loose, hot and sudden. Without thinking, without checking the properties of the charm, I clip it to the center loop of my Citrine Stud of the Illuminated Gambler.
Emerald Charm of the Scheming Leprechaun
Essence: Volatile Luck
- Level 1 — Doubles the effect of your Luck Tokens, amplifying both good and bad fortune when energized.
- Growth — Gains one level after 10 consecutive days of “getting lucky.” Further advancement is tied to ongoing growth in the linked skill — Intimacy.
- Fleeting — Vanishes if removed or separated, stealing all Luck Tokens and half of your Luck attribute as it departs.
“Huh.” I sniff and rub my nose dry. “It’s a real lucky charm.”
I turn and sway, grateful I’m already sitting. A few yards away, Lenora pinches the rim of skin just above her navel, slides a long hollow needle through in one smooth motion, and threads the emerald stud after it.
Her eyes go wide, then sparkle as she looks at me. “It says I get +1 Luck whenever I can see you, one Luck Token every morning, and—wait—what does this mean… ‘bonus effect active while you’re wearing your leprechaun charm’?!”
Jenny’s skin sparkles as she plops down beside Lenora. “Do me next!”
I watch Jenny, Tess, and Frankie line up like it’s no big deal. Lenora marks, pinches, and slides the needle through them one by one, smooth as threading cloth. How can they be so relaxed? Even excited? Every stab makes me flinch. The thing looks thick enough to use as a tent peg. Each pass of steel makes an electric explosion in my groin — like my body’s convinced I’m next on the block. Machismo or masochism, I don’t know. But not me. Never again. I stare into the distance long after they finish.
“Can I rub your leprechaun?”
My eyes dart up to meet Lenora’s mischievous smile. Is she asking about the charm… or about me? Her gaze is hungry, the male soul inside peeking through, eager to make a meal of me — and gods help me, I want to be devoured.
“Me too!” Jenny chirps, bouncing like a cheerleader with glittering pom-poms, each hop scattering sparkles into the air.
“Wh…what?”
“We get up to ten extra points of luck if we rub”—Jenny giggles, waggling her eyebrows—“your leprechaun.”
“Everyone. Every day.” My whisper comes out flat, but inside I’m a mess. Disappointed? Disgusted? Excited? Used? Turned on? All of the above.
It boils down to two questions: Why? And where?
I look up, past the growing circle of eyes, to the glittering ceiling a dozen yards above. Does it matter? It’s just a touch. They’ve all explored every inch of me before — but that was respectful and fun, something I look forward to repeating, and I’m excited to learn how to return the favor. But I’m not a rabbit’s foot to be pulled out and rubbed in a nervous moment. So yes, the why does matter to me.
And what about the where? I have hours of memories — friendly hugs, snuggles to keep warm, sometimes more — bits of me smushed against bits of them. Where never mattered then, so why does it matter now?
Then the pieces slip together. Love. Not necessarily the kind that blows up the fireworks stand — though sometimes it is — and not the Platonic, forever-friend-zone kindness at a distance. It’s a love that sways between. Always real, never the selfish imitation of “gimme what I want or else.”
I know my friends — literally and biblically — and they do love me. I trust them to respect me. So yes, I’ll let them rub my lucky charm.
But… I still don’t know which one they mean. Shite.
“Um.” My gaze flits around the circle of expectant faces. My fingers wobble between the points of interest. “Do you mean this… or this?”
Tess nods, wisdom and mischief blending in her smile. “That’s a fantastic question. My system message says:
“Stroke the charm once every day,
“Luck will smile and double your way.
“Make her laugh, make her prance,
“Make her squeal in a leprechaun dance.”
Frankie winks, then deadpans, “I have no idea what that means.”
“You’re right,” sighs Jenny, piling on more melodrama than a whole troupe
of comic actors.
Tess clicks her tongue. “Then how will we ever know?”
Lenora smacks a palm to her forehead. “Simple. We experiment.”
All eyes swing to me. I giggle. I might be twenty-eight years old, but in this moment, I giggle like my girlfriends just suggested toilet-papering the principal’s house. And then, still giggling, I nod.