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“Good one,” Evan says, and it clearly costs him.
“You want to welch?” I ask, parroting his earlier tone.
With a slight eyeroll, he stands up.
Holy objectification. He slowly unzips his pants.
Swaying his hips as though he’s an extra on Magic Mike, he drags his pants down.
Am I about to keel over?
Nope. I’m still upright when the pants are gone, so I’m very aware of the bulge in Evan’s boxers. A huge bulge. Longer and harder than any of the words we’ve played thus far.
When he sits back down, the table blocks the bulge from my view, allowing me to think straight.
“You sure you want to keep playing?” I ask, my voice more than a little husky.
He nods.
All right. Unless he’s wearing a cock ring under those boxers, he’s only got one item of clothing left, while I have two. Side note: is a cock ring even an item of clothing? It seems more like jewelry to me. Or an accessory, like glasses.
Evan plays his next word, ‘craze.’
Hmm.
Then: ‘fervor.’
Wait a second.
When he plays ‘hots,’ I call it official. “You’re following the same theme that I did.”
He shrugs.
Brows furrowing, I put my own word on the board, a very unsexy ‘crud.’
Evan’s eyes gleam with triumph. “Fine. I’ll break the pattern.”
Oh, no.
Yep.
He puts the word ‘exchangeability’ on the board.
Shit. Exchangeability is something that bras and panties do not have.
My heartbeat speeds up.
I know I said I’d keep playing, but this is serious—and I have no idea what to take off. Losing panties would usually be worse, but since we’re playing sitting down, Evan wouldn’t be staring at my bits the whole next round, the way he would if my breasts were bare.
“Look, Brooklyn,” Evan says in a serious tone. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not okay with.”
“Nice try.” If I were still feeling as bold as before, I’d stand up, turn back to him, bend down, and then slide down my panties—maybe twerking the whole time.
Turns out I don’t have that in me, even though my mind is more than a little fuzzy from all the drinks. Instead, I slide my panties down under the cover of the table like a coward and cross my legs. Hopefully, I won’t leave a damp spot on the seat this way.
Evan stares at me pointedly.
Oh, right, he has no idea what I’ve done.
