Page 9 of All Our Nevers

This time, Sophie picks up on the tension and leaps into action. She’s sweet as pie, but her conversational skills are a bit like a gas—expanding to fill all the available space.

“Lia, do you need any help picking up supplies?” she asks. “I’m more than happy to grab alcohol and snacks and stuff. Or we could brainstorm the list together and then divide and conquer, if you want. Or honestly maybe it would be fun to do a shopping trip together, even though it would take more time. I could do next weekend if that works for you? I also might have—”

Amelia cuts her off. “You’re not getting supplies for your own bachelorette party.”

“Yeah, Sophie,” I say. “We have more than enough hands between the two of us, plus Nolan if we need backup. You’re good.”

Amelia’s head swivels towards me. “And who said you’re invited on this shopping trip?”

“Andy did,” I say. “When he asked me to be his best man.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but for once seems to realize I’m right. Or maybe it’s just her allegiance to my brother’s wishes that has her mouth snapping shut.

And you know what’s fucked up? I’m a little disappointed. I feel robbed of her latest piece of scathing vitriol.

But then my eyes flash over to Andy, hand running through his hair, still visibly uncomfortable, and I know she was right to drop it.

“Okay. Here,” Amelia says, reaching a hand out. “Give me your phone and I’ll add myself. I’ll text you with my shopping schedule and if you’re free you can come.”

“You’ll text me with your shopping schedule? We’re planning this together, Amelia. It’s great that you have a vision but—”

She cuts me off. “Give me the phone now, argue with me later.”

“Yeah, and enough logistics!” Sophie says as I hand over my phone. “Let’s just have fun tonight. Do you guys want to play a drinking game? Owen, have you ever played Shuttle Launch?”

My “I don’t think so?” is buried by Amelia’s “Oh my God.” and Andy’s “When would he have played Shuttle Launch?” and Nolan’s “Great idea, Soph! I’ll get the first round.”

“Of course you will,” Andy says to Nolan. “And it’s definitely not because you want to talk to the bartender again.”

Nolan blushes but doesn’t refute it as he walks off.

“What’s Shuttle Launch?” I ask, unsure if their unanimous excitement is a good or bad sign.

“It’s a game,” Amelia says unhelpfully as she hands back my phone with her contact information input. “You’ll catch on.”

“Everyone still good on beer?” Nolan bellows from the bar. We reply with nods and thumbs up. There’s a pink-haired woman across the countertop from him looking unimpressed by this entire affair.

“I mean, I got that it’s a game,” I say. “But what are the rules?”

“You’ll see,” Sophie says, and the fact that even sweet Sophie is in on whatever this is makes it feel increasingly like an ambush.

The bar is getting more packed by the minute, and I would bet my bottom dollar not all of these kids are twenty-one. The light from the BIG BUCK HUNTER machine starts strobing aggressively, punctuated by the war cry, “Got ‘em all!”

“Starter shots,” Nolan says as he places small glasses in front of us. They smell like syrup and cinnamon. Fireball. Jesus Christ… I may only be two years older than Andy, but that difference feels like a generational gap when I’m staring down this bottom-shelf liquor.

I try to brush off the shots with an “Oh, I’m okay—” but the rest of them are already chanting.

“Three… Two… One… Liftoff!”

They throw back their shots, then slam the glasses onto the table, Sophie on the leading edge, me a beat behind as I give in to the peer pressure. A fresh horde of frat boys files into the table next to us, the sounds of buckshot still echoing off the walls. The air is already sticky and only getting worse.

“Penalty three to Owen,” Nolan declares.

Andy explains, “That means take three drinks from your beer.”

“What?” My eyes race between them, desperate to find an ally and coming up empty. “Why?”

“You were the last to finish the shot,” Sophie says, then announces, “Flight crew role call: youngest to oldest.”