“Come on,” he said, taking my arm. “You’re on my team.”
The game was called Running Pyramid. All of us were instructed to write a list of ten things. We were to show them to no one.
“I don’t know what to put on my list,” I said to no one in particular.
“Anything you want, darling,” Ollie said. “But don’t get too complicated.”
He had appeared next to me, though I couldn’t say when. If he was drunk, he was hiding it well.
Gabe too. If not for the heavy hood of his eyes and the slight lean that only the most focused observer might note, I might have assumed he was sober.
“I don’t even know what would be too complicated,” I told Ollie.
Someone passed out paper and pencils. I was impressed by how well-organized this game was, but by the time the materials had reached me, I’d already forgotten what I was supposed to do with them.
“Ten things?” I asked Ollie.
He glanced over at me and gave me a sympathetic smile.
“Oh, love,” he said. “You’re just about tits up, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know what that means,” I said. “But I do think my tits are tired.”
He patted my hand.
“Here,” he said. “I’ll do your list and mine.”
“Thank you.” I handed over my paper, though I still had no idea what was happening.
“Is everyone ready to play?” Gabe asked. “Ollie, you ready to embarrass yourself?”
Ollie gave him the V sign.
“Ollie’s ready,” Gabe said. “Chani?”
I looked up at him, though I wasn’t sure how I managed it since my head felt so dense.
“I’m sleepy,” I said.
“She’s drunk,” Ollie clarified.
I shook my head. “Not drunk,” I said. “I had too many jelly beans, though.”
“Come on.” Gabe hoisted me up out of my seat, gripping my arm.
His hand was warm, his palm rough against the soft skin on the inside of my elbow.
“Team Two with me,” Gabe said.
I followed him, though I didn’t have much choice. He was still holding my arm.
“Cool party,” I said.
It came out sarcastic.
“Not a fan of games?” Gabe asked.
I shook my head but lost control of the gesture halfway through and couldn’t stop. I just had to let myself run out of momentum until my head was tilted to one side, looking up at Gabe. He was so tall.
“You are drunk,” he said.
“I’m not good at games,” I said.
“No?”
“No.”
It came out the same way a child might respond if someone offered them vegetables, a long, drawn out whine.
Gabe didn’t say anything but I could see him reassessing his opinion of me. I didn’t like it.
“I’ll try,” I said.
He smiled.
“Good.” He clapped me on the shoulder like we were football players and turned to the rest of the team. “Who wants to go first?”
It was then that I realized we had moved from the living room to his bedroom. Us and about a dozen other people.
Everyone else seemed to know exactly what they were doing. A slim licorice-haired girl in a sweater dress and a big colorful necklace waved her hand.
“I’ll go first,” she said, and then began doing long, exaggerated lunges.
I stared, horrified.
“Is that part of the game?” I asked.
Gabe laughed. “No,” he said. “Adrienne is just warming up.”
I didn’t understand until Ollie’s voice from the other room called out: “Are both teams ready?”
“Ready!” echoed all around me.
“Okay, go!”
Adrienne raced out of the room. Within a few seconds, she was back.
“Okay.” She was out of breath, but still managed to sing, “？‘Thank you for being a friend…’？”
“Golden Girls,” a girl to my left shouted. She was wearing a pair of red clogs.
Adrienne pointed at her triumphantly and Red Clogs bolted out of the room.
Then she was back.
“Fred Astaire. Backward. Heels,” she said.
“Ginger Rogers,” someone shouted.
“Yes!” Red Clogs said, and the person who had answered correctly ran into the living room.
We did this seven more times until I heard the sound of cheering come from the other room. The puppy was barking too, clearly having aligned herself with the winning team.
“Dammit,” Adrienne said.