AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Sorry. I already created the teams,” Mandy said. “That way no one gets picked last. I still have nightmares about that from gym class.” She pointed to the tray table with the black-and-white squeaky cow. “Kara and Link. You’re Team Cow.” Next she gestured to the center table with a rattle in the form of Captain America’s shield. “Alex and Ethan are Team Marvel.”
Allison swallowed a groan. Mandy was clearly an agent of the universe, intent upon forcing Allison and Colin together. Angling the bottle to her lips, she took the longest pull of cider she could manage without choking, then dropped into one of the two open chairs. She picked up the bike horn and gave its red bulbous end a good honk.
“That makes us Team Horn.” She aimed it at Colin and honked it again, compressing the rubber ball slowly and methodically for maximum annoyance.
He cringed and snatched it from her. “You can’t be trusted with this.”
Narrowing her eyes, Allison slugged more cider. Forget the original plan. She would need to be very, very drunk if she was going to have to be on the same team as Colin Benjamin.
Mandy clapped her hands. “Let’s get started, folks. I have takeout scheduled to arrive in an hour and a half, which should give us enough time for a good game. I’ll be your host tonight, Mandy Garcia.” She curtsied, though she was wearing high-waisted jeans and a cropped yellow-and-white-striped top. The thick black hair piled on her head bobbed in its top knot. “The rules are simple. I’ll read a question. You’ll have a minute to confer with your partner. Use the noise-maker when you think you have the answer. One point per question. First team to twenty-five wins.”
“What do we win?” Ethan asked.
Mandy’s small mouth twisted with glee. “It’s a surprise.”
Win.Allison’s favorite word. Taking one last gulp, she set her cider out of the way and folded her legs beneath her, ready for action. “I’m going to stomp the floor with you,” she whispered to Colin. Competitiveness: the perfect antithesis to awkward, quasi-romantic half-confessions.
Judging by the way Colin’s eyes narrowed and the corners of his mouth perked up, he agreed. “Not if you’re already squashed under my boot.”
Allison sneered. He never wore boots. Only beat-up Chucks and Doc Martens oxfords, like he wanted to join a nineties grunge band. At Brown, he’d bought her a pair of red-and-white sneakers like she should emulate his style. She fought off a shudder.
Mandy put a hand to her mouth conspiratorially and whispered, “You guys are on the same team.”
“Only in the most technical of senses,” Allison pointed out.
As if to prove her point, Colin set the horn in his lap instead of on the table.
“I’m not reaching for that there.”
“Good. I wasn’t in the mood to fend you off, anyway.” His eyesstudied the empty columns on the white board like it held all the answers.
“Put the horn on the table.”
“No thanks.”
Mandy cleared her throat to get their attention. “We’re going to start with some easy stuff. You know, to warm up,” she said. Then she proceeded to rattle off a series of questions that only people in a literature Ph.D. program would deem easy. Colin got each one right, never bothering to consult Allison.
After his third correct answer, he shined that shit-eating grin her way. “Pssst. You’re not stomping me too hard here.”
Allison refused to take the bait. Sitting back in her chair, she crossed her legs and organized her expression into something bored. “Your vice grip on that horn suggests you know exactly what would happen if you gave me half a chance.”
He snorted. “When have youeverbeat me at trivia?”
Never. They used to go to the events hosted by Brown twice a month, and he’d answer every question like he was a walking Google browser.
Allison’s coolness faltered. There he went, bringing up their past again, like it was a compulsion he couldn’t control. “I wouldn’t know, since this is our first time playing.” Subtext choked her voice. Under the table, she swung at his leg with her ankle boot, satisfaction trilling through her veins when she connected.
Setting the horn on the table, he rubbed at his shin. His gaze dodged hers with the intensity of a third grader running from whomever was “it” in tag. “Let’s see who the better player is, then.”
Mandy called out the next question. “What is the technical term for the hashtag symbol?”
Allison was thequeenof arcane facts. She squealed (out loud) as she dove for the horn. But at the same time her fingers crushed its rubber nose, Colin’s hand encircled hers. They both squeezed with all their might.Honk. Honk. Honnnnkkkkkk.
Mandy nodded at them. “Team Horn, again.”
“This is bullshit,” Ethan yelled.
Over him, Colin hollered, “Pound sign,” while Allison said, “Octothorp.”
