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"I'm in, too," she said challengingly.
"The Scrabble Master should fold," he advised.
"No way."
"Not to be cliche, but read them and weep." Ryan grinned, putting down a pair of aces. With the dealer's ace, he had three of a kind. Mara slumped in her seat.
"What have you got?"
She showed him.
"No big deal. You don't have to do it if you don't want to," Ryan told her, a sympathetic look on his face.
S
he shrugged. What the hell. It was just like the dressing room at Loehmann's. Except outdoors. In public. In front of Ryan Perry.
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"Rules are rules," she said. All those daiquiris she'd drunk were making her pretty brave.
Taking a deep breath, she unhooked her bra and threw in her underwear as well. Naked as Aphrodite emerging from the sea, she streaked past the rest of the strip poker revelers, through the kitchen, across the porch, through the yard, and dove into the pool.
Far from shy, Ryan took the cue, doffed his boxers, and followed her in. After all, his mother had shipped him to a hippie summer camp in Vermont as a kid. This was all just fun and games.
"WATER FIGHT!" he yelled, splashing up to her.
Mara screamed mid-backstroke and tackled him in the water. She'd never had so much fun in her life. She was liberated, free. The old class secretary Mara would never be caught dead in the wee hours of the morning, completely nude with a guy she wasn't even dating.
Ryan swam up and grabbed her by the waist. "GOTCHA!" "Ryan! Let me go!" Mara squealed, loving every minute.
They treaded water for a while, laughing, and Mara suddenly
realized she was like, oh, good God, totally naked in front of
Ryan! And he was holding her. .. kind of close actually.
She looked into his eyes, which were laughing back at her. He's going to kiss me, Mara thought. It's going to happen. Now.
Here. She closed her eyes, but then she suddenly pulled away. "Ryan, I can't--this doesn't feel right--not that I don't
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want to--I really do--but I still have to work things out with Ji--JIM!"
And there, standing by the edge of the pool, was Jim Mizekowski, all two hundred and twenty pounds of him. With a look of absolute disgust on his face.
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when arguing naked, be careful how emphatically you talk
Mara struggled out of the pool, running after Jim. She felt terrible for him--there was so much to explain--if he would just wait.
"Jim, please, listen to me," she pleaded.
"So THIS is why you couldn't come home this week. You had to 'work.' I get it." He spat, so angry that a vein throbbed dangerously on his forehead. "Jesus, I can't even look at you."
"It's not what you think. Ryan's just a friend. We were just playing a game, that's all," Mara said, knowing it sounded pretty weak.
