AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Hey, what can I get you guys?” the bartender interrupts.
“Oh. I’ll have a Death Star, please,” I tell him, my cheeks heating that he totally caught me getting cozy with the hottest guy in the room.
“And you?” the bartender asks Owen.
With another quick glance at the menu, Owen rattles off his order. “I’ll have a Hot Tauntaun. Thanks.”
“Coming right up.”
Owen sets a few bills on the counter. Then we grab our drinks and head to our designated table.
“You sure it was a good idea to decline teaming up with another couple?” Owen asks as he pulls out my chair.
Once seated, I look up at him. “Do you doubt me, young Padawan?”
“Of course not, Master,” he quips before taking the chair next to mine.
With a grin, I twirl the straw in my giant margarita. “By the way, this drink is delicious.”
He takes a sip of his, then nods his agreement as the host’s voice crackles over the speaker system.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Wookies and Wampas, please take a seat, and we’ll get started.” He pauses and looks around the room, waiting for a few of the stragglers to find their tables. Once they do, he continues. “The rules are simple. I will ask a question, then my girlfriend in the back, who’s dressed like Princess Leia, will start the timer. You’ll have thirty seconds to discuss potential answers before writing your final guess on the whiteboard. When the buzzer goes off, you’ll raise the whiteboard in the air, and the judges will walk around to confirm who’s correct and who needs to spend a little more time studying The Force.”
Laughter ensues, and the host waits for it to quiet down for a few seconds before he dives right back into the rules. “If you write the incorrect answer, the judges will collect your whiteboard, but you’re welcome to stay and cheer on your fellow Padawans. The questions will get progressively more difficult as the game goes on, and the winner will be promoted to Jedi and will have bragging rights until the next trivia night. Any questions?”
A few people raise their hands, and the host answers their questions before scanning the room a final time.
“Alright. Let’s begin. What color is Mace Windu’s lightsaber?”
Owen grabs the marker and writes the answer without any prodding. When the buzzer goes off, we raise it into the air.
Clearing his throat, the host announces, “The correct answer is purple.”
“Nailed it,” Owen whispers with a confidence that’s sexy as hell, especially when it involves one of my nerdiest passions.
“Next question. Who kissed Leia first, Han or Luke?”
Duh.
I steal the marker from Owen’s grasp and write Luke.
Thirty seconds later, and bam––I’m correct.
Back and forth, Owen and I pass the marker, laughing and drinking and soaking up each other’s company with an ease that should be terrifying, yet somehow feels like home.
And with each and every question, the participants are whittled down to only a handful.
“Alright, everyone,” the host calls out. “Next question. How many languages is C-3PO fluent in?”
I squeeze my eyes shut and search my memory. “Crap,” I murmur. “I can’t remember if it’s five or six million.”
“Six,” Owen returns, keeping his voice quiet to prevent anyone else from hearing his guess.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Definitely.”
Cringing, I hand him the marker and watch him scrawl the potential answer along the whiteboard.
