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“Couples,” John says as he pats Trish’s leg and grins. “Then we get the drama when one couple is terrible together.”
Everyone glances at Phillip and me. We’re not sitting next to each other, and we’re definitely not acting like a couple. So why is everyone acting like we are?
“So me and John,” Trish says. “Phillip and Addison. And Sera and Andrew. Good luck, you two.”
Andrew glances at Sera, and she shrugs. “That works,” he says and drags his folding chair over to the ottoman she’s sitting on. I make a note to buy more furniture or at least folding chairs if I’m going to have people over. Though, it’s all new to me since this is literally the first time I’ve had anyone at my place. Even in college, the only person who ever came over was my boyfriend. I don’t like my space invaded.
These people are different, though. Other than Andrew and John, I feel closer to most of the people in this room than I have to anyone else in a very long time.
Phillip gets up and sits next to me, a grin on his face as he whispers, “Just so you know, I’m very competitive, and I really want to beat Andrew at this.”
I just grin back at him. I can be competitive, but I don’t know the vibe tonight. Is it just a reason to laugh and drink or are we going to have an intense game?
A stack of notecards sits on the coffee table. Each of them has a word handwritten on it, and without asking anyone, Andrew stands up and grabs the top card.
Sera sits up straighter on the ottoman. John and Trish cuddle up next to each other on the couch. I set a timer on my phone for three minutes, and I say, “Ready, set, go!”
And Andrew sets the mood for the night. Barely holding back laughter, he turns around, puts his hands on his knees, and begins shaking his ass.
See, we didn’t have an actual charades game. Each of us came up with a word for each of our thirty notecards. This is going to be a very chaotic night.
“Twerking!” she shouts.
And it’s over. “Twerk was the answer,” he says as he drops the card on the coffee table and goes back to sit next to Sera. He gives a little grin to Phillip, and I feel like I’m understanding what vibe we’re going for. Competitive chaos.
“Trish, that’s ridiculous,” Sera says. “Next, someone’s going to get stripper.”
Trish is laughing. “Wasn’t me. I’m not going to twerk in front of my bosses.”
And then I see Sera grinning… And blushing? Maybe it’s the lighting, but I could swear that she almost looks a little embarrassed.
I put a mark down beside Sera and Andrew’s names. “You or me?” I ask Phillip, and he gets up, not at all worried about making a fool of himself. Truthfully, how could anyone be embarrassed of charades after his Madonna performance?
Phillip picks up a card, and I watch him carefully as his face sinks. What could it be on the card?
He’s just shaking his head as I set the timer for three minutes again. “Ready, set, go?” I say without as much gusto as I’d had the last time.
Everyone’s watching as he sighs. “Old man yelling at clouds.” He glares at me and shakes his head while Sera and Andrew laugh. He stops for a minute before running into the kitchen and… comes back with a broom? What?
He stands still for a moment, and I hear him mutter, “I’ve had. The time of my life…” And Andrew looks like he’s about to yell something, but Phillip goes quiet.
Then he starts… dancing? Is that what you’d call it? He holds the broom like he’s doing a waltz, but it’s too close? Like a slutty waltz? He’s shaking his hips and twirling the broom around like it’s a princess, but it’s far too slow to be anything I’m familiar with.
“Dancing?” I ask, very unsure of myself. “Old dancing? Retirement home?”
He ignores me as he walks across the room away from me. What the hell is he doing?
Then he turns around and stops like he’s looking straight at me for a few seconds. Gripping the broom in both hands, he lifts it high into the air until it’s parallel to the ground. There’s a big grin on his face as he stares up at it.
Is that supposed to be a person? The time is running out, and I don’t have any idea.
“Ice skating? Gymnastics? Ballet?” Nearly everyone in the room is laughing their asses off, but Trish is loudest, barely staying in her seat.
He slowly spins as he looks up at the broom, a smile on his face.
The timer goes off, and Trish practically screams, “It’s Dirty Dancing. Oh my God, Phillip that was perfect.”
“What’s Dirty Dancing?” I ask. “Like the old movie?”
