Twelve #2
I wrapped my hands around the base of the mug, feeling the heat engulfing my hands upon contact with the ceramic exterior. Taking a small sip, I moaned as the warm liquid slid down my throat. Was it hazelnut? Maybe nutmeg ? Whatever it was, it was fucking amazing.
“Not even joking, this is the best hot chocolate I’ve ever had. Thank you.”
Elliot hummed in agreement as he slid his cup closer, bringing it to his lips.
His eyes fluttered closed, and he tilted his head back, taking several large gulps of hot chocolate until the only thing that remained was a foamy ring of whipped cream.
When he clanked the hollow mug back onto the wooden table, my hands flew to my mouth, stifling the laughter that was trying to escape.
The cup wasn’t the only thing with whipped cream on it.
“What?”
“You got a little something.” I gestured to his upper lip.
“Fuck.”
He hastily averted his eyes, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. It was no use fighting the one thought that kept resurfacing in my mind: Elliot looked adorable when he was flustered. Such a macho guy overwhelmed by a teeny tiny cup of hot chocolate.
“Did I get it off?”
“Yeah.”
“Knew I shouldn’t have gotten the Jolly Java hot cocoa with extra whipped cream,” he muttered.
Trying to keep my inner thoughts from translating from my mind to my face, I suppressed a grin and asked, “So what’s the topic for this trivia thing? Literature?”
“And History.”
I smirked and clasped my hands together while stretching out my arms until a satisfying crack emanated through the air.
“This outta be easy, then.”
“You’re a history buff too?”
“I’m an everything buff…except for art.”
Elliot smugly popped his joints, imitating my arrogance as he pulled each finger one by one. “Leave that to me.”
“Whatever you say, Picasso,” I teased. “When does this thing start, anyway?”
“In five—”
A shrill voice overshadowed Elliot’s. “Trivia night starts in five minutes if any other teams want to join!”
“I guess that’s our cue,” I said, hopping up from my seat.
“Where are you going?”
“It’s last call, right? I gotta tell ‘em we’re joining.”
“Already done.”
“Really?” I asked in a stunned fashion while sliding back into my chair. “Do we have a team name?”
“Clot.”
You know those rubber stress toys where if you squeeze them hard enough, the eyes pop out of their head. Yeah, that was me right now . He named us Clot? We were Team Clot ? I almost barfed as the word replayed in my mind. It was almost as bad as hearing someone say the word moist . I shuddered.
“ Clot ?” I groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
He let out a soft chuckle. “Actually, I am, but you should see the look on your face. Our real name is Triviasaurus Rex. ”
I was torn between feelings of relief and annoyance. A permanent glare found a home on my face as I silently cast a hex on Elliot’s unborn children. He didn’t seem to mind, though, because his smile was as wide as ever.
A few sips of hot chocolate and several cursed offspring later, trivia night finally kicked into high gear. It was Team Triviasaurus Rex against three other groups.
Team “ Full Frontal Nerdity ” consisted of three pre-pubescent boys with over-zealous personalities and little to no self-awareness when it came to appropriate public conversations.
Their name left nothing to be desired. On the complete opposite end of the spectrum were four older women in festive holiday sweaters who named themselves “ The Know-It-Owls ,” which got a few chuckles.
The last team was a lively queer couple and an energetic young girl who decided to call themselves “ No Eye Deer ” which, in my opinion, was the best name.
When it was almost time to start, a perky and eager brunette who worked at the café handed each team a small silver bell to ring when we knew the answer.
For the next thirty minutes, it became a customer service employee’s worst nightmare as the sound of chiming bells went off left and right.
What is the first line of Moby Dick? Dinnnng. “Call me Ishmael.” Five points to Triviasaurus Rex
Which four presidents are on Mount Rushmore? Dinnnng . “George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, Thomas Jefferson, and Theodore Roosevelt.” Five points to No Eye Deer.
What do the stripes on the American flag represent? Dinnnng. “The thirteen original colonies.” Five points to Full Frontal Nerdity.
Which novel begins with the line, “It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen?” Dinnnng. “1984 by George Orwell.” One point to No Eye Deer.
In which novel do the March sisters—Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy—appear? Dinnnng. “Little Women by Louisa May Alcott.” Five points to Triviasaurus Rex
Then the questions got harder.
Which epic poem begins with the word “Arms and the Man I Sing?” Dinnnng . “The Aeneid by Virgil.” Ten points to The Know-It-Owls.
What year did the North American Free Trade Agreement go into effect? Dinnnng. “1994.” Ten points to No Eye Deer.
What is the pen name of Samuel Langhorne Clemens? Dinnnng. “Mark Twain.” Ten points to Triviasaurus Rex.
Who was president during the Cuban Missile Crisis? Dinnnng. “John F. Kennedy.” Ten points to the Triviasaurus Rex.
In J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit, what is Bilbo Baggins’ home called? Dinnnng . “Bag End.” Ten points to The Know-It-Owls.
Who was the fourth president of the United States? Dinnnng. “James Madison.” Ten points to No Eye Deer.
We were neck and neck with Team No Eye Deer , each of us only one question away from victory…but the last category was randomized. Beads of sweat pooled on my forehead, causing my skin to become damp. Adrenaline coursed through my veins.
Ugh, I loved this shit.
My senses were on high alert as I perched on the edge of my seat, my mind buzzing with endless possibilities of trivia-related topics. Would it be Pop Culture or STEM? Maybe a Geography question?
Even Elliot appeared to share in my tension, impatiently tapping his foot against the chair’s bottom rung and scratching the same spot on his neck. It felt as though the carefree, flippant Elliot Keller I once knew had transformed into a trivia fanatic, eager for knowledge.
“Okay, so it comes down to this,” said the brunette employee whose name we later learned was Constance. “Which Mexican painter is famous for her self-portraits and bold symbolism?”
Painters? I knew nothing about painters! How was I supposed to—
“Oh, shit,” Elliot whispered before leaping up from his chair and repeatedly slamming his hand on the bell. “Frida Kahlo! The answer is Frida Kahlo!”
“Correct! Ten points to Triviasaurus Rex, making them our winner of tonight’s trivia game!”
I stared at Elliot in disbelief as I slowly rose to my feet, an all-consuming grin spreading across my face.
A few customers applauded us, clapping their hands together meekly while the other teams silently succumbed to defeat .
Full Frontal Nerdity appeared more disappointed than the other teams as they sulked around, complaining about the game being rigged.
Their comments went in one ear and out the other as I shifted my focus back to Elliot.
“Oh my God! You did it!”
“ We did it.”
He wore a giddy expression as he tackled me into a hug, nearly toppling us over. The wind was knocked out of my lungs as he wrapped his arms around me, our bodies teetering to the side.
With my face tucked under his chin, I watched the muscles in his biceps flex with every squeeze.
It was suffocating, but in a good way. I bit my lip, struggling to grasp the fact that not only was Elliot Keller undeniably attractive and charming, but now it was safe to say he was pretty smart too when he wanted to be.
The two of us were forced to pull apart when we were handed a small plastic trophy. Our fingers connected as we raised the token of our success to the sky.
We almost looked like a real couple.