Chapter Eleven
Gordon
“True American!” Jesse shouted as we walked out of the room where we’d just played quarters. “Meyers! Handler! Get over here.” He waved us to Lennon’s den, where people were dragging in wooden chairs, huge pillows, and even a mini-trampoline.
“Uh…I’m definitely lost,” I said, glancing down at Zoey.
“Bray made me play once before.” She grinned. “You think you can handle one more game?”
“Why stop now?” I laughed. Half the night had been jumping from one drinking game to the next, but with Zoey leading the way, I was more than happy to keep it going. At least until my conscience kicked in.
Dad.
I needed some sleep before my big meeting in the morning.
“We’re in!” Zoey said, and I followed her deeper into the room.
Jesse was finishing setting beer cans on a coffee table that rested in the center of the room. They were lined up in diagonal rows surrounding a bottle of whiskey that sat on a pile of books in the middle. “This is the king of the castle,” he said, plopping his hand on the closed bottle. His black nail polish matched the label. “These are his pawns,” he continued, indicating each row of beer. “And there are four sections.” He pointed to each section and all the chairs, pillows, and the mini-trampoline in each corresponding one.
I leaned down and asked Zoey, “What are the chairs and stuff for?”
“The floor is lava,” she said, like that explained everything.
“Right,” Jesse agreed. “And everything you hear in True American is a lie.” Everyone in the room laughed…except me. I swallowed hard and focused. Catching on and impressing Zoey shouldn’t matter, but…it did. “Okay,” Jesse continued. “Time to pick teams.”
Zoey nudged me and whispered four.
“One, two, three!” Jesse shouted while counting the beats with his fist before he threw up two fingers and pressed them to his forehead. Everyone else in the room did something similar, only with different numbers, so I quickly shot up four.
“Nice!” Zoey smiled, high-fiving me.
“Ugh,” Jesse groaned. “The Brainiacs are at it again. Oh well, lucky for us this game doesn’t involve your brain much.” Another wave of laughter flowed through the room as everyone moved toward their partners. Jesse scooped up a beer. “I’ll kick us off.” He patted his pockets and glanced around the room. “Anyone have a set of keys?”
I reached toward my back pocket to grab mine, but Zoey snatched my hand. “I have some!” she said, still holding on to my hand while she practically flung her keys at Jesse.
I swallowed hard, eyeing her grip, and not able to stop the way I relaxed under her touch. Her eyes were wide, almost frantic, but she flashed me a grin.
“Shotgun!” Jesse yelled, drawing my attention away from Zoey. He pushed the tip of one of her keys into the beer he’d picked up, instantly put the hole to his mouth, and downed the beer in record time. Zoey dropped my hand to catch her keys when he tossed them to her. “JFK!” he shouted.
“FDR!” everyone but me screamed back, and then they darted to available chairs or pillows.
“Gordon!” Zoey yelled, a giggle in her voice. “The floor is lava!” I jolted and lunged for the first thing available—the mini-tramp. It gave slightly under my weight but sprung back.
Whoa…
It took me a couple of seconds to gain my balance. Zoey held her side to contain her laughter.
“All trash!” Jesse yelled, crunching the empty beer can in his hand.
“Belongs in the junkyard!” everyone yelled as he tossed the can into the corner of the room, where an empty cardboard box was set up.
“I have no idea what is going on,” I said, shaking my head but unable to stop my laugh.
“You’ll get it,” Zoey said from her position atop a chair next to me. “Just grab a pawn and crack it open.”
After twenty-five minutes, two pawns, and one near fatal slip from the trampoline into the lava later, I had a somewhat, marginal, barely-at-all grasp of the game.
“The only thing you have to fear!” I hollered and tossed my empty pawn into the junkyard.
“Is fear itself!” everyone cheered, Zoey’s bubbly voice overshadowing every other person’s in the room. The light tone called to me, distracting and welcome all night. It almost made me forget to throw up a number of fingers on my forehead in order for a chance to move spaces. I tossed up the number three, my eyes darting to everyone else.
“That’s you!” I pointed to Zoey, who was the only other person who’d chosen the number three.
“Yes!” She reached to give me a high five, but her chair tilted onto two legs and she wobbled.
I darted out my arms and grabbed her underneath her shoulders before she could fall to the floor. I drew her close, encasing her against my chest until her feet found the trampoline. My heart raced as I looked down at her wide eyes. She wetted her bottom lip, and I could feel her heart beating furiously against my chest.
“Safe!” Jesse shouted, and a succession of cheers and whoops filled the room.
Zoey laughed, and I did, too. I finally—regretfully—released my tight hold on her.
“Thanks for not letting me go into the lava,” she said, breathless.
“I’d never let you fall,” I said, nearly a whisper. Something buzzed in my blood, and it wasn’t the beer. It wasn’t the fact that we were winning the game either.
It was Zoey.
“Come on,” she said, offering me her hand. “We have to move together or we’ll lose.” She eyed the chair she’d nearly fallen off of, then the chair a good three feet from it that was nearest the table with the pawns and king on it. “Um…” She glanced back at me.
I saw the problem just as she did. It would take some excellent coordination on our parts to be able to move toward the same chairs without losing our connection.
“Five,” Jesse said, starting a countdown. “Four…”
“Ah!” Zoey shifted her weight, grabbed my hand, and tugged. “We have to go! Our chairs are melting.”
“Three…”
Without thinking, I swiped an arm under Zoey’s knees and cradled her to my chest. She squealed and wrapped around my neck. I kept a firm hold on her, shocked at how light and easy she felt against me as I made the three moves necessary to get us to our final destination.
“One!” Jesse yelled right as I set both feet on the chair. “Ugh! Even when brains don’t matter, you still end up winning!”
I laughed and set Zoey down, but little space on the chair meant our bodies were still flush. She dropped her hands from my neck, the tips of her fingers sliding over my chest with a featherlight touch before she grabbed the whiskey bottle off the table and took a fast swig.
She hissed, her face scrunching up in the most adorable way. “We’re unstoppable!” she cheered. She set the bottle down and hurled her hands in the air.
The celebration threw her off-balance once again. My hands flew to her hips. The excitement died in her throat. Her shirt had come up only an inch or two with her arms raised. But an inch was a mile, because I touched a sliver of exposed skin. I swallowed hard, clinging to her to make sure she wasn’t going to fall.
“All right,” Jesse said as everyone started hopping off chairs. “Fifteen-minute break. Then we’ll set up another game.” Several empty pawns were thrown into the junkyard before people left the room, but Zoey and I hadn’t moved from our tight position on the chair.