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I take the bottle from him and down a few small sips.
“Okay,” he says, sitting up. “But let’s make a game out of it.” His voice lowers to a husky, seductive tone. He leans over me, his fingers sliding gently along my jaw. My eyes close. “I’ll tell you somethin’ I think about you. If I guess right, you drink.”
My eyes open and he removes his hand. “And you?”
His devious grin would make the devil himself proud. “Oh, sweetheart, I’ll drink even if you guess wrong…To keep it interestin’.”
“Nice try, McCoy.”
“What?”
“If you drink every time, I won’t know if I’ve guessed correctly.”
“I’ll tell ya.” His boyish grin only proves to make me more skeptical. “All right. I’ll play by the rules. You can go first,” he offers.
I sit up cross-legged, opposite from him. He does the same, setting the bottle on the hood between us.
He licks his lips, distracting me. I’m having a hard enough time thinking of something to ask him. While my brain struggles, he makes a loud sound like a buzzer. “Time’s up. My turn.”
I laugh and smack his chest. “Fine! You go first.”
“Okay. You maintained a four-point-oh GPA through college.”
I take a minuscule swig from the bottle. This game could last a while. My goal is not to end up so intoxicated I won’t remember it in the morning. “That one was kinda easy. My turn. You did not maintain a four-point-oh GPA through college.”
I giggle, but he makes another loud buzzing sound. “Wrong!”
My eyes widen. “You had a four-point-oh through every year of college?”
He takes a drink and sets the bottle down. “No.”
“I was right. You should drink double.”
“No. You were wrong. I never went to college.”
Oh. “Kinda cheatin’, but okay. Your turn.”
Without hesitation, he says, “You believe in love at first sight.” His eyebrows rise when I don’t reach for the bottle. “Oh, come on, sweetheart. Drink up.”
It’s my turn to make a buzzer sound. Only mine comes out in a croak and he laughs. I laugh too and shake my head. “It’s true. I believe a couple can have an instant physical connection, but that’s not love. Love’s an emotion cultivated over time. It grows with trust, with every touch, every stolen glance, and every kiss, until eventually it consumes you.”
“Hmm… So, you’re a romantic, just not a hopeless one.” I shrug. He continues to laugh, clearly proud of himself. “Your go.”
“You,” I say, poking my finger into his firm chest, “don’t believe in love at first sight.”
His hands remain in his lap. My eyes bulge as I stare at him with my mouth agape. “You’re such a liar. There’s no way the Battle McCoy believes in love at first sight.”
“I don’t,” he says, his voice wavering slightly.
“So, you have to drink.”
A loud buzz bursts from his lips. His eyes narrow as he leans close to me and pinches my chin. “One has to believe in love in order to believe in love at first sight.”
I remove his hand. I don’t know anything about him, but how sad and lonely he must be to feel this way makes my heart ache. “Battle …”
He interrupts. “Don’t! I see that pathetic look in your eye. Don’t pity me. I accept my life for what it is.”
“Don’t you want to share your life with someone?”
