10
Lia
The sun sets in pinks and reds over Cape Cod. Our shoulders are bronzed, stomachs full of oysters, skin salty with sweat and seawater as we make our way back to the house. I did pitch going out to bars, but it was quickly shot down, joyful exhaustion thick in everyone’s bones.
“I’m ready for dessert,” Sophie says as she unlocks the Airbnb door.
“How is that possible?” Nolan asks. “You were keeling over holding your stomach twenty minutes ago.”
She shrugs. “I guess I digest fast. Lia, did you say you got s’mores stuff?”
“I sure did,” I say. “I’ll grab it for us. I assume we’re gonna sit in the back by the firepit?”
“Sounds good,” Andy says, walking into the kitchen and placing the bag of everyone’s leftovers in the fridge.
The backyard isn’t anything special. A patch of grass with a wooden fence, two long benches by a metal firepit, a large tree in one corner. But when I plug in the string lights under the purpling sky, it suddenly feels just right.
My brother was an Eagle Scout as a kid, and is all too excited to light the fire for us.
Owen offers to look for skewers in the kitchen, but Sophie is adamant that we should do it the “old fashioned way,” shoving the marshmallows onto the ends of twigs.
Andy—who is the last person I would ever expect to put a stick from the ground into his mouth—agrees to do whatever Sophie wants.
“So,” I say, reaching with both hands into the rose pink duffle bag at my feet, “to celebrate my two favorite people in the world who aren’t related to me, I’ve got… games!”
I pop up holding oversized pictures of Sophie’s and Andy’s faces glued to popsicle sticks. Everyone laughs loudly at this, except Andy who groans and hides his face in his hands, just as I hoped he would.
“Oh come on,” Nolan says, tossing a marshmallow that hits Andy on the side of the head. “It’ll be fun.”
I count seven more marshmallows squished onto the stick in Nolan’s left hand.
“Were you in on this?” Sophie asks him Nolan, grinning ear-to-ear, clearly loving every moment of this.
“Mhm,” Nolan smiles back. “Couldn’t let Lia have all the fun torturing you.”
Then Sophie turns to Owen. “You too?”
“Um, no,” Owen says, raising his hands in innocence. “Had no idea.”
When Sophie looks away, Owen’s eyes dart to me.
I’m used to his ire by now, but the vibrancy of what I see in his expression surprises me.
There’s genuine anger there. It’s only a moment—he recomposes himself quickly—but what the fuck?
Does he really hate party games that much?
Or does he just hate this idea because I’m the one who came up with it?
I decide to ignore him, passing an Andy-head and a Sophie-head to each person in the circle.
“The rules of the game are simple. I’ll read a prompt and we have to vote whether the answer is Sophie or Andy. Whichever one of them is the winner has to take a drink, plus everyone who got it right.”
“It’s a drinking game?” Andy asks, and I can practically see his stomach roil from yesterday’s vodka shots and this morning’s hangover.
“Just a sip!” I insist. “You can do it, tough guy.”
“We get to vote too?” Sophie asks, then shoves the last of her s’more into her mouth. She glances down at her marshmallow covered fingers, momentarily frozen in place. By the time she looks up again, Andy is holding out a napkin for her.
“Yeah!” Nolan says. “That’ll make it juicer when you guys disagree. We’ll just count down from three before we put up the signs, so you can’t give the answers away.”
“Everyone ready?” I ask.
They obediently put their s’mores and twigs and plates down and get into position: one face-stick in each hand.
I pull out the Notes app on my phone and smile down at the first prompt. “Who said ‘I love you’ first once they started dating? Three… two… one.”
Nolan and I both vote for Andy, obviously. He’s such a fucking simp. But when I look at the other people in the circle, I’m shocked to see Andy, Sophie, and Owen all holding up Sophie’s smiling face.
“What!?” Nolan and I yell in unison.
“Are you really that surprised?” Sophie shrieks, loud enough that I’m sure the whole block can hear.
“Yes,” we say in unison again.
Nolan adds, “He’d been talking about telling you how he felt for weeks. He didn’t say it when he asked you on your first date?”
“I actually asked him on our first date,” Sophie says. “So no, he didn’t.”
“Andy, bro!” Nolan yells. “Are you serious? I thought you had that whole ice skating idea?”
Andy is pink-faced and cringing, the bridge of his nose pinched between tense fingers. “The activity was my idea, but Sophie’s the one who suggested we go on a date. I really fucked up that whole thing up to be honest.”
Sophie says, “No you didn’t,” just as Owen says, “Yeah, you kinda did.”
“Wait.” I twist to face Owen, whose vote for Sophie is still raised in the air. “Did you know that or were you guessing?”
“I do talk to my brother, you know.”
“Yeah, I, um…” Andy clears his throat uncomfortably, then says to me, “I needed someone to talk to while Sophie was living at your place.”
“Hello?” Nolan says, waving his arms in Andy’s face. “What about your best friend of ten years right here?”
Andy looks cornered, unsure what to say, and I actually feel a little bad for him. I’m opening my mouth to speak up on his behalf when Owen beats me to it.
“It’s not like you could’ve been impartial. Sophie’s your best friend, too.”
“I guess,” Nolan concedes.
“Besides,” Owen continues, “Andy was so mad at himself, I’m sure he decided to talk to me just to punish himself.”
It’s a joke, but it doesn’t land. Self-deprecation doesn’t suit him, and no one quite knows what to say.
Andy starts to say “That’s not…” but Sophie’s already talking.
“Anyway, it all worked out in the end and that’s what matters! We have to drink now, right? Me plus anyone who voted for me? Everyone have their drinks?”
“Yeah,” I nod, grateful that Sophie can never let an awkward moment lie.
“This game is designed to get me and Soph drunker than everyone else,” Andy observes. “You realize that right?”
“Yup,” I reply, smiling back at him.
The crescent moon shines against the purple sky, night air crisp enough that I want to edge closer to the fire crackling between us all.
“Okay my turn,” Nolan says, taking a crumpled piece of paper out of his back pocket. “Question two: who’s into weirder stuff in bed?”
“Ew!” I yell, shoving his arm.
“I don’t want to know that,” Owen says.
“What do you mean by weird?” Sophie asks. “I feel like that has a negative connotation, but do you just mean more interesting things?”
“Sure,” Nolan agrees, “more interesting.” He’s wearing that big-brother grin—the one that relishes torturing his pseudo-siblings (and real sibling) for his own amusement.
“I don’t know how to explain this,” I cut in, gesturing to Sophie and Andy, “but you two aren’t allowed to have sex. It feels like you’re my brother and sister. Like it’s okay that you’re getting married for some reason, but it’s not okay for you to have sex. Ever. Especially not with each other.”
“Completely agreed,” Owen says. “My little brother does not have sex.”
“Your little brother is getting married in two weeks,” Sophie says. “Of course he has sex.”
“No, he doesn’t,” Owen says.
“Yes, he does,” she replies. “And he’s really good at it too. He—”
“Nope!” Owen jumps to his feet, hands pressed to his ears.
“No. Ew. Shh. Stop it,” I say, swatting at Sophie’s arm.
“I’m going to get us some water,” Owen says, “and when I come back we’re moving on to a different question. Who wants one?”
Everyone in the circle raises their hands. Owen nods and heads for the back door of the house, but he can’t possibly carry five waters by himself, so I follow.
The screen door slaps shut behind me as I call, “Need a hand?”
“Nope.” He’s lining up glasses from the cupboard on the countertop.
“Right,” I scoff, taking it upon myself to pick one up and start filling it at the sink. “And did you see if we have enough beers in the cooler or should I bring more of those out too?”
“Dunno,” he says coldly, placing the fifth glass on the counter and immediately moving to leave the kitchen.
I don’t know what stick is up his ass right now, but whatever’s going on, I will not have him going back out there in a sour mood and ruining Andy’s night.
“Hey,” I bark, halting his motion, “what’s with the attitude?”
To my surprise, he doesn’t beat around the bush. He spins back towards me and asks, “Why didn’t you tell me you were planning that game?”
My head bobs back in surprise. “Because I don’t have to run every thought I have by you?”
“No, not every thought. Just the ones about my brother’s bachelor party.” That genuine anger is back in his eyes. The fuck is wrong with this guy?
“Here’s a thought about your brother’s bachelor party,” I say, “piss off.”
“Really mature. You know, you insist on controlling absolutely everything except your attitude.”
“You know what they say, if you want something done right you have to do it yourself.”
“Really, Amelia?” His hands are splayed wide, shoulders leaning towards me. “I am trying my absolute best over here, and you’re determined to frame me as a horrible guy. Can’t you see that I’m trying? I wanted to do this for him.”
“Believe it or not, you didn’t cross my mind.”
“Well, I should have. You should have thought about the only other person coming to this event. The person planning it with you.”
I shift back an inch, eyes narrowing. “Owen, are you fucking with me?”
He looks me dead in the eyes as he says, “I don’t like it, Amelia. I don’t like being excluded like that. It really… I don’t like it. I care about this.”
And damn. This game between us is only fun when he can give as well as he gets. I guess when it comes to his little brother, it’s not a game anymore.
With our shared goal of Andy and Sophie’s happiness in mind, I raise my hands in surrender. “Hey, okay. I was just giving you shit. I know you care. I didn’t think the game was that big of a deal.”