Page 125 of A Little Jaded
“And miss the celebration?” She tears her attention from the crowd outside and smiles. “Hardly. You’re the MVP, Everett Taylor. Soak it up.” Bouncing her eyebrows up and down, she reaches for the door handle with her opposite hand, slips out of my grasp, and exits the car. I follow suit, and we head inside. As soon as we step over the threshold, my team starts chanting my name. The rest of the partiers join in when someone hands us red Solo cups and bombards me with requests for a play-by-play of the last forty-two seconds of tonight’s game.
I keep my hand on Raine’s the entire time, and even though the words coming out of my mouth are all things hockey, I can’t stop rubbing my thumb along her soft skin, blown away that she’s really mine.
“Yo!” Finley calls. “Let your girlfriend go. We want to hang out with her, too!”
“You had her during the game,” I remind her.
“Yeah, well,” my little sister loops her arm through Raine’s, “now we get her until you’re done reliving the glory days.”
“It happened like…two hours ago,” Raine points out, but she lets go of my hand and tucks her hair behind her ear, giving me a glimpse of the little storm cloud hidden behind it.
Fucking beautiful.
Her dad gave her the tattoo since she couldn’t reach the spot to do it herself. Not easily, anyway. He didn’t ask any questions, though. He took the stencil she created and got it done. She’s been taking on a few of his clients, too, and is kicking ass, but she’ll never admit it. The girl’s gifted. More than she knows. But it’s nice knowing her dad sees it the same way I do. We haven’t really spoken since the concert, but Raine assures me things are…good overall. Dodger asked if she could come to another of his shows before he leaves, too. He’s picking her up from her shift at Etch ‘N’ Ink next weekend, which works since we have an away game.
“I’ll bring her back in a few,” Finley promises.
My attention snaps from Raine’s tattoo to my little sister. “Where are you taking her?”
“We’re preparing the game.”
“What game did you guys pick?” I ask.
“Close Your Eyes and Open Wide,” she quips. “The gentlemen’s version.”
My nose wrinkles. “Of course, you’d pick that one.”
“Hey, Reeves is the one who crowned me queen at the last game night.”
“Only because there are no winners inSpin the Bottle.”
“Not when your boyfriend is a billion miles away, anyway,” she grumbles. “Especially when I spent the whole night taking shots?—”
“Of cranberry juice,” Raine interrupts with a laugh. “Griffin told me.”
“Of course he did,” Finley mutters. “But, I digress. I need Raine’s help, and don’t even think about convincing her to give you any hints.”
I watch as they move toward the kitchen, nearly groaning at the turn tonight took with a few simple words.
Close Your Eyes and Open Wideis basically Russian Roulette with a food element. It either leaves you puking or snacking on your favorite food. It’s a game of balls and luck. The rules are simple. Random food is hidden underneath a tablecloth, and since it’s the gentleman’s version, the guys are the only ones playing while the girls watch us be miserable. Every guy lines up around the table and picks a covered food item. Once the tablecloth is removed, you have to eat the food in front of you, or you’re eliminated from the game. Winner takes all. Sometimes, you might be lucky enough to have a candy bar or some shit. Other times? You might get dog food or month-old Chinese from the back of the fridge. After each round, the guys left standing leave the room, and the girls reset the food placement. Last one to bow out wins.
Knowing Fin? She’ll be merciless. Maybe Raine will hint at where to stand so I don’t puke during the first round, though I won’t be surprised if she keeps me in the dark.
About ten minutes later, Finley reappears and moseys into the family room. The same thick medallion we use to crown the winner of every game night hangs around her neck. It swings side to side as she climbs onto the coffee table in the center of the space. Too bad for her, she’s still short as shit and barely grabs anyone’s attention until she places her thumb and forefinger between her lips and whistles.
The high-pitched sound makes my ears ring, but it does the job because the party quiets, and she beams with satisfaction.
“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls! Welcome to Game Night!” she announces. Cheering ensues, and I clap my hands slowly. Finley’s grin widens. “First, I want to congratulate LAU on their phenomenal win tonight! You showed determination! Strength! And grit!”
“Woo-hoo!”
“Fuck yeah, we did!”
“And now, to see if you can continue to show such qualities for tonight’s main event,” she adds. I swear the girl’s eyes twinkle when she pauses for effect. “Tonight, we’re playingClose Your Eyes and Open Wide, gentlemen’s edition!”
Bellows ring throughout the air. It only adds fuel to the fire, and I’ve never heard such a contrasting collection of sounds. Cackles of amusement from the girls. Low groans from the guys. Yeah. They know what’s in store for them, too. Poor bastards
“As always, rules are simple,” Finley continues. “Girls, you’re spectators and judges tonight. Make sure to keep these boys in line. Gentlemen? You’ll be the main event. Let’s see how big your cajones are, shall we?” The girl rubs her hands together mischievously. “In the kitchen, we have bowls covered by a tablecloth. Pick a bowl, any bowl, but don’t peek. If you do, you’re disqualified,” she warns. “Once everyone has chosen, I’ll announce when you can remove the tablecloth. From there, you either eat the contents or tuck your tail in shame. Any questions?” Finley doesn’t even wait a millisecond. “Perfect! Let’s go!”