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We finish eating, and after storing the food away and cleaning up, we converge on the living room. Gunnar pulls the game out of their hall closet, and Sam passes out paper and pencils.
“Okay, so, rules. Each member of a team has to take turns drawing. Exact answers only. Highest number on the game die goes first.”
We watch as each team rolls the die, and Chip waves to me when it’s our turn.
The die flips to six, and just like that, we’re first. Chip grabs the pen and paper and a card. We ended up on a “wild” space, so I have no idea what’s coming my way.
Chip nods at Sam, who flips the timer and starts to draw.
“Envelope. Letter,” I guess as the shape of an envelope comes on the page. Chip shakes her head at me and I say, “Paper. Missive. Email.” She shakes her head harder at me, and then starts to draw a long tube shaped picture.
She’s not. She wouldn’t.
Sure enough, a giant dick and a mammoth set of balls take shape on her pad of paper. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the timer start to run out.
“Penis,” I yell. The clinical word makes my cheeks heat in embarrassment. They wouldn’t have penis on the cards. It’s made for all ages to play, so there’s no way her card said anything genital related.
“Time,” Samantha calls.
Imp throws a glare in my direction. “The word was male. Like a dude. How the hell did you get penis after I drew an envelope and then a giant schlong?”
“Schlong?” I ask with a cocked eyebrow, bringing my drink up to sip.
“Would you prefer pork sword?” She smiles sweetly.
Whiskey ends up in my nose when I snort so hard I can smell the alcohol volume of my drink.
My gut clenches as I choke on my drink, trying to hold back my laughter.
Once I have it back together, I ask, “How the hell was I supposed to guess male from a letter and a dick on paper, Imp? Tell me that.”
She shakes her head at me and turns to the other group. Pete rolls the die, and Carol starts to draw. They get their guess correctly in a matter of seconds and move forward on the board.
Chip shoots me an icy glare after every other couple gets their turn and guesses.
“All play card!” Gunnar calls.
“Okay. Don’t fuck this up, Byrne. If we get it right, then we can catch up.”
“Why are you telling me not to fuck it up, Miss Dick Pic? You’re the one who messed up last time.”
A strange growling noise comes from her throat, and I lean back so I’m out of striking range.
We get an object, and I take a second to think about how I’m going to draw when Sam flips the timer. I barely get through drawing the tube of toothpaste on my paper when Chip shouts the answer, giving us the win by seconds.
“Yes,” I yell and hold my hand out for a high five.
She reaches forward and slaps her palm to mine. It takes my entire control not to wrap my hand around hers and just hold it.
We play a few more rounds, then take a break to refill drinks. Chip’s in the kitchen taking her time grabbing a glass of wine, and once everyone else is settled, I get up to check on her.
“Hey, you ready?” I ask. She’s standing by the sink, struggling with the wine opener and a bottle of red in her hand.
“No. I can’t get this stupid thing open,” she grits out.
“Here, let me.” I take the bottle from her, and after a few tugs and a couple of wiggles, I get it uncorked.
“Thanks,” she grumbles.
