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  Books. Change. Lives.

  Copyright © 2020 by Annabeth Albert

  Cover and internal design © 2020 by Sourcebooks

  Cover design and illustration by Colleen Reinhart

  Internal design by Danielle McNaughton/Sourcebooks

  Internal illustrations by Lauren Dombrowski

  Map design and illustration by Travis Hasenour/Sourcebooks

  Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. Sourcebooks is not associated with any product or vendor in this book.

  Published by Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks

  P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410

  (630) 961-3900

  sourcebooks.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Albert, Annabeth, author.

  Title: Conventionally yours / Annabeth Albert.

  Description: Naperville, IL : Sourcebooks Casablanca, [2020] | Summary: “LGBTQIA+ ROMCOM Conrad Stewart and Alden Parks are enemies, and that’s the way it’s always been. But when they’re stuck together on a cross-country road trip to the biggest fan convention of their lives, the competition takes a backseat as unexpected feelings blossom. Yet each boy has a reason why they have to win the upcoming con tournament and neither is willing to let emotion get in the way-even if it means giving up their one chance at something truly magical”-- Provided by publisher.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2020001675 (trade paperback)

  Subjects: GSAFD: Love stories.

  Classification: LCC PS3601.L33438 C66 2020 | DDC 813/.6--dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020001675

  Contents

  Front Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Bonus Content

  Character Sketches

  Resources

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  About the Illustrator

  Back Cover

  For all the date nights spent tabletop gaming and all the memories created one round at a time, win or lose.

  Chapter One

  Conrad

  “You can’t kill me,” I said. “You don’t have the strength.”

  In reality, I was already dead. My fate had been sealed by my own stupidity, but I wasn’t going down with a whimper. No, the last of my life might be spinning away, leaving me with only a dwindling collection of scrolls and my wits, but I’d rather go out fighting—or at least laughing.

  I leaned back, feigning confident disinterest. “Come at me.”

  “You’re rather confident for someone with no defenses.” Alden, my least favorite opponent, sounded almost bored, which only made me even more determined to hold on.

  “And you’re so predictable,” I shot back. Maybe I could egg him on, push him into making a mistake. It seemed like the only option I had left.

  “Dude. You are so screwed. At least your carcass is going to be pretty.” My sometimes-friend Jasper wasn’t helping any, taking great glee in my predicament.

  “Beg for mercy.” Payton, as always, was more pragmatic.

  I neither needed nor wanted an audience for this latest humiliation, so I tuned everything out, focusing every resource on staying alive.

  “I move to attack,” Alden said. The swing came, just as I’d anticipated, with Alden going all in, trying for a fatal blow.

  “Yeah, well, attack this.” I slapped down a card to create four tiny frog soldiers. Not much when facing off against everything Alden had at his fingertips, but it was the best I could manage.

  One more turn. It had become something of a mantra over the last hard, seemingly endless year. And yes, this was only a card game, and no, another loss to Alden wouldn’t really be the worst thing to happen to me. But regardless, I still wasn’t going to let him see me falter.

  “Really? That’s your response?” Alden shook his head, his weary expression making him look far older than twenty-three. He didn’t seem cowed in the slightest. He did superior better than anyone I knew, full mouth curving, lock of dark hair falling over his forehead as his hazel eyes gleamed. Fresh dread gathered in my stomach. My cheap-yet-effective mercenaries should have been just enough to hold him off and to get me to my next turn. But then Alden shook his head again and activated five scrolls, turning them sideways with long, clever fingers. “Unblockable Quest.”

  It was a hundred-dollar card, the sort of comeback that pro players trotted out like jelly beans, and so far above my current gaming budget it might as well have been gold-plated. But I had one final answer, my last card and my last scroll to activate it. “Peace Offering.”

  It would mean the sacrifice of my soldiers, but at least it would get me that one more turn.

  “Conrad.” The irritated way Alden sighed my name always made my teeth grind. “Peace Offering is one of the cards that got outlawed with the new rules. It’s no longer tournament legal. Didn’t you freshen up your deck last week like everyone else?”

  No, no I hadn’t updated a damn thing because I’d needed my last forty dollars for food, not cards. But I wasn’t telling Alden th
at, wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of pitying me. Instead, I stuck my hand out. “Guess I forgot. Good game, man.”

  “Yeah, good one.” Alden barely glanced at me as he gave a perfunctory shake.

  “That’s right. You missed the release event last week when they unveiled the new cards and revised rules. Hot date?” Payton asked, leaning forward, long hair swishing over their shoulders, the soft hint of southern in their lilt making date sound old-fashioned and dirty at the same time.

  “You know it.” I leaned back in my chair. I wasn’t about to admit I’d been working extra hours at the pizza place, trying to replace that money I’d spent on food. I’d spent hours dodging irritable parents and hyped-up kids instead of being here at my favorite game store for the unveiling of a set I’d been looking forward to for months.

  Alden made a disgruntled noise. “Can we film his death reaction now?”

  “Sure thing.” Professor Tuttle swung his handheld camera in my direction. “Die, Conrad. Make it good.”

  On cue, I sank low in my seat, almost sliding under the table as I made noises like I was melting, like a cartoon character getting hit with acid. Elimination reactions were something that Professor Tuttle’s audience always loved, almost as much as his “Gamer Grandpa” game analysis. Gamer Grandpa was one of the most popular Odyssey vlogs, with Professor Tuttle analyzing our in-person card play as well as matches on the wildly successful online version of the game. He made game theory accessible to the masses, and we were all regulars on his channel. Jasper did a lot of the editing for him, Payton did some special effects, and Alden…

  Well, Alden did all the winning. He had a combination of the best decks and exactly enough infuriating skill to make him darn near unbeatable.

  Oh and me? I liked to think I was the eye candy of the group. Or maybe the comedic relief. I brought the sort of trash-talking our viewers loved. That it never failed to rile Alden was only a bonus. And I’d take being seen as cocky over the truth, which was that I was the professor’s latest charity case—a scrappy player with cheap cards, a fucked-up life, and a missing future.

  “Great. That’ll do it for this game.” Setting the handheld camera aside, Professor Tuttle bustled around, disconnecting the overhead cameras that pointed at our play mats.

  “They’re going to want the room back soon.” Jasper moved to help, collecting dice and counters and rolling mats. He worked part-time at the game store where we filmed the shows and was the reason why we got the private play room so often.

  “Arthur can wait.” Payton was one of the few people not rattled in the slightest by the store owner’s gruff exterior, and they gathered their stuff slowly.

  “Give me a minute and I’ll grab you some of the latest card packs, Conrad. I bought two set boxes, so I’ve got some to spare.” Ignoring Payton, Jasper continued to aim for employee of the year, wiping down the table.

  “Thanks, man.” There was a time when I’d been one of the store’s best customers, but those days were long gone, and now, even borrowing Jasper’s employee discount, I could barely afford to keep playing. I should have been too proud to accept the packs, but it was probably my only shot at updating my decks. I couldn’t afford to buy individual cards on the secondary market like Alden or Payton. No, I’d be limited to whatever came in the packs. And I supposed I could get lucky, score some rares, but luck and I were hardly on speaking terms lately.

  “I’ve got some commons you can sift through too.” Alden reached for his deck bag—one of those custom deals that held a bunch of decks in their boxes securely, nothing jumbling around like my duffel, which was often where good cards went to die.

  “Nah. I’m sure I’ll be okay with whatever Jasper can spare.” I might able to live with myself in accepting handouts from the professor and Jasper, but not Alden. I’d sooner stop playing than take his castoffs.

  “Suit yourself.” Alden gave a shrug of his elegant shoulders. Not broad. Not bulky. Not even a swimmer’s lean build or the more technically accurate slight. No, the only word that worked for describing Alden’s body type was elegant. Or perhaps regal if one was feeling even more fanciful, which I decidedly was not. But it was undeniable that Alden had a presence to his posture, a way of holding himself that took up far more than his share of space, and that frequently made me forget that I was technically the taller, bigger one.

  “Wait. Before you guys head out, I’ve got something to share.” Professor Tuttle sported a gray T-shirt that proudly proclaimed “Gamer Grandpa” with his Einsteinesque wild-hair logo beneath it. Like Alden, he had a professional-grade deck bag, along with assorted camera and laptop cases. Checking three different bags, he finally came up with a thick manila envelope. “Do you know what this is?” He waved the envelope in front of us before reaching inside. Practically vibrating with excitement, he didn’t wait for any of us to take a guess. “This, my friends, is the trip of a lifetime.”

  He laid five white tickets out on the table. They looked expensive—large rectangles of thick, creamy card stock with gold lettering that proudly proclaimed, “Massive Odyssey Con West” on them.

  The room went silent, the kind of eerie stillness that often preceded a summer storm back home, but in this case, it was anticipation, not a tornado, building, energy crackling as I waited to see who would speak first.

  “But MOC West has been sold out for months. I know. I tried.” Payton’s green eyes were wide. Among all of us, they were probably the only one of us who could easily afford the high price of admission for the fan convention taking place in Vegas next month. Giant in scope, it rivaled the largest of the Comic Cons in popularity. Better yet, not only was it a showcase for the game, but also a huge tournament for players, with prize money and even seats on the pro tour up for grabs.

  A spot on the pro tour could be life-changing.

  “I know. But my contact at Odyssey Games said they’re really impressed with what our channel is doing. They want us to come—me to sit on some panels and make fan appearances, and you guys to play in the tournament. Then we’ll do a recap video about our experiences afterward.”

  “Wow.” I whistled low, visions of an invitation to the pro tour and the end of my money worries dancing in my head.

  “All we have to do is get there.” Professor Tuttle nodded so enthusiastically that his unruly white-gray hair bounced.

  And hell. Just like that, my vision went poof, lost in a cloud of reality. “You mean we have to cover airfare?”

  “Well, yes, travel expenses are ours, as are meals and—”

  “Not a problem.” Payton already had their phone out and was clicking away, probably telling their trust-fund manager that they needed a boost of cash.

  “For you, maybe,” I grumbled, already digging my duffel out from under the table. Time for me to get going. That ticket might be my one last decent hope of digging my way out of the hole my life had become, but the cost of airfare wasn’t even remotely within my pitiful budget, and I needed to escape the excitement of the others before my disappointment ruined their fun.

  “Slow down now, Conrad.” Professor Tuttle could do stern when he wanted to. I slumped back into my seat, bag in my lap. “I’ve got a travel plan for those of us with more…challenges to face.”

  More like those of us with nonexistent bank balances, but I didn’t say anything. I’d worked hard to make sure that as few people knew the extent of my situation as possible. The professor knew more than most, but no way did I want the rest to realize just how screwed I really was.

  “I don’t fly.” Alden stared at the tickets as if they might hop up and bite him. I had to blink at that. In the couple of years that I’d hung around Alden and the rest of our play group, I’d never known him to be anything other than rigidly in control. Our perennial winner had a weak spot?

  “Since when?” I asked before I could think better of it. I’d learned long ago that Alden
, conversation, and I seldom mixed well.

  “Since ever.” Alden gave me the scathing look I’d been expecting. “I just…don’t.”

  “Which is fine.” Professor Tuttle had moved from stern teacher back to peacemaker. “You don’t fly. C—Some of us have limited funds. And I have a plan.”

  Pulse pounding, I eyed those tickets again. Forget Alden and his blinged-out decks. I could hold my own in that tournament, and I knew it. I could solve so many of my problems. But rather than being giddy with hope, I felt like I’d swallowed Alden’s huge deck bag, a heavy weight pressing on my vital organs.

  Whatever this plan was, I wasn’t at all sure I was going to like it.

  Chapter Two

  Alden

  I straightened my shoulders, not letting my body lean forward like it wanted to. I wasn’t going to let myself be overeager. Not yet. Real-world plans had a way of seldom working out in my favor, which was why I loved Odyssey so much. In the game, all my careful strategies could come to fruition, as they had when I’d won out over Conrad a few minutes earlier. Across from me now, he had gone pale, his usual Disney-hero face gaunt and more than a little green.

  “A plan?” he croaked. I had to admit, it was nice to see the Prince of Swagger off his game, even a little. He deserved to be off his game, in no small part thanks to his endless needling and mockery. He called it trash-talking, but I’d never seen the difference. It was hard not to take his comments personally when they always felt so targeted.

  My fingers itched to reach for the tickets, to make sure they were real, but I wasn’t going to be the first to grab. I also wasn’t about to let Conrad—or anyone else—see how badly I wanted to go. Payton and Conrad undoubtedly wanted a ticket so they could party with other gamers, and Jasper was likely already envisioning the cosplay possibilities, but all I could think about was that tournament. A seat on the pro tour. Yeah, that would be worth something after the tire fire that was my last year.

  A win like that would validate all the time I’d spent honing my game, but more importantly, it would give me the one thing my life was sorely lacking: control. I’d spent the past year racking up disappointment after disappointment, and here was my chance to seize a fresh new direction for my future that had nothing to do with the increasingly claustrophobic path my family had set me on.