Page 10 of All Our Nevers

Amelia goes first, saying, “Pilot.”

Sophie: “Commander.”

Nolan: “Mission Specialist.”

Andy: “Obviously I’ll take Engineer.”

Then four sets of eyes turn to me. “Do I just make up a role for myself or—?”

Nolan cuts me off with a slap to the back. “That makes you Payload, my man.”

“Tough luck,” Amelia says with a sparkling wink before turning back to the rest of the group. “Round One. Rule Two. Easy mode. This is one small step for man, and—”

Sophie, Nolan, and Andy simultaneously yell, “One giant leap for mankind!”

Everyone turns toward Sophie for some fucking reason, and she says, “Tie to Nolan, he finished first.”

Sophie and Andy clink their beers together then each take a drink. My head is spinning and I’m still dead sober.

“That’s three to you, Owen,” Nolan explains. “One for each of them, plus your own.”

“The fuck?”

My eyes dart between their faces, landing back on Nolan’s in the hope he’ll take pity on me, but he only proffers the explanation of: “Payload.”

The entire experience is disorienting. Has it really been so long since I’ve played a drinking game that they’ve devolved this much? I guess it would be since law school… six years ago now. Yikes. And I get the sense that this drinking game is unique to the four people sitting next to me.

There’s nothing for it. Not wanting to stick out in this group any more than I already do, I raise my beer to my lips and take three big gulps.

Amelia says, “Round Two. Rule Three. Special Mission.”

Nolan—the Mission Specialist, evidently—thinks for only a second before yelling, “Voyager!”

Nolan, Sophie, and Amelia bolt up from their seats, scrambling through the hoard of sweaty strangers towards the bar’s front door. They each slap a hand on it and it’s hard to tell who was first, but when they get back Sophie declares Amelia the winner.

“Commander Lindell,” Amelia says to Sophie while nodding sideways towards me and Andy. “Can we please get some penalties for the two deserters?”

“Great idea, Pilot Mercado,” Sophie says. “One penalty drink to each, on top of their standard punishment.”

Andy puts up no argument, raising the beer to his lips as he says, “I hate the Voyager mission.”

“Wait.” My patience is fraying again. “A penalty drink on top of the standard punishment? What?”

“One drink each for losing the mission,” Sophie explains. “One for the penalty. Plus your three for Payload.”

“My three for Payload? So you’re telling me I’m the only one that has to take five drinks right now? What the actual fuck is this game?”

Amelia leans over to touch my forearm. “Don’t get hysterical, babyboy.”

I’m too stunned to reply.

“Refills?” Andy asks—I guess that’s what the Engineer does?—then jumps to his feet without waiting for our answers.

“Thank you, Engineer Walsh!” Sophie calls after him as he crosses to the bar. Amelia doesn’t wait for him to return to continue.

“Round Three. Rule One. Ready, set, go!”

They each slap a hand to their forehead, showing a number of fingers between one and three. I am, once again, a beat behind, cautiously lifting my arm with two fingers extended. With Andy away at the bar, my eyes flash to Sophie’s number (three), then Nolan’s number (one), before turning to the woman next to me, the two fingers on my forehead a mirror to her own.