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“Bigger?”
“Much bigger.”
Should I be worried?
She gives a wicked laugh. “I got it. If I win, you have to suffer through the Holland family Christmas party.”
I blink. “Really? This is the best you’ve got? Done and done.”
“You have no idea what you’re agreeing to.”
“Are you calling my bluff? It can’t be that bad.” Mrs. Holland isn’t as intense as Mrs. Fiore, and I’ve met a few of Brie’s siblings already. But it doesn’t matter. I’m not losing, so there’s nothing to worry about. Is there?
Brie stares at her food before finally setting it aside. “It sounds funny saying it out loud.”
“I won’t laugh.”
“I’m the last sibling not married. Sometimes it’s easier being at the kid table than being harassed about being single. My family can be relentless.”
Something gnaws at my conscience. It feels strangely like guilt. I’m not responsible for her single status all these years later. I don’t understand how she’s not taken, but it’s ridiculous to think it’s all my fault. Right? For once my logic doesn’t convince me.
“Your family loves you, single or not. You know that.” I clear my throat, sorry I can’t help her out. My mom’s health is too important to me.
She sighs. “Yeah. I shouldn’t let it go to my head.”
“No, you shouldn’t.”
“Which is why I’m going to win so I don’t have to worry about it.”
I put my tongue in my cheek. She can’t actually think she has a chance. “Let’s get this started then. What’ll it be? Leg or arm?”
“Arm wrestling and my rules.”
Her rules means I follow the rules, but she doesn’t have to. I don’t care because it gives Brie a fighting chance. Or at least the hope of one. I might not be flexible, but I do take time to lift every day. It’s a great way for me to unwind. Now I wonder if I’ve unknowingly been preparing for this moment. I haven’t arm wrestled since high school, and I’m here for it.
I lay on my stomach and brace my elbow against the carpet, wiggling my fingers for her to come over and join me.
She is wagging her head like she can’t believe she’s doing this. I’ve followed plenty of her crazy ideas before, so she has to know this is nothing in comparison. I’m grinning like a fool by the time she lays down opposite me. I haven’t been this excited since my neighbor learned how to make homemade bread and started sending her leftovers to me. I’m finally going to convince my mom to move—or should I say, Brie is going to. I should’ve thought of doing this in the first place.
“Don’t be shy,” I beckon, opening my hand for her to take it. I don’t mean to sound flirtatious, but Brie’s eyes widen a little. She slips her hand in mine a moment later. “Your fingers are cold.” Without thinking I lean forward and blow on them, tightening my hold to give her some heat. I’m not ready for what it does to my stomach or for Brie’s blush.
“Are you cheating?” Brie starts to pull back. “You’re cheating!”
“I am not.”
“You’re trying to weaken me. So not fair.”
“It’s not my fault if you can’t handle holding my hand,” I tease. Her reaction makes it all too easy to flirt on purpose this time. “Does this mean you’re forfeiting?”
Brie put her other hand on the back of my right one, so both of hers envelope mine. “Oh, we’re doing this.”
Her game face makes me laugh. What she lacks in body mass and muscle, she always makes up for in sheer determination. It’s good to see this side of her hasn’t changed. “Ready?”
She knows it means she starts us. Then I’ll watch her suffer for a minute, pretending she is making it hard for me, before I finish her off. A moment later, I feel the first pull on my arm.
Brie grits her teeth and pulls her whole body to the side.
I want to keep a straight face and be the nice guy, but she’s killing me.
