Chapter 8 #2
The game gets competitive fast. Lauren challenges one of my words (QUAFF, which is absolutely a real word, thank you very much), and I challenge one of hers (ZAZZY, which she swears is in the dictionary but definitely isn't).
"I'm not going to lie," I say as I study the board, trying to figure out where to place my X. "You’re giving me a real run for the money.”
Lauren leans back in her chair, the blanket slipping off one shoulder. "I should print that on my business cards.’ Lauren Scott—I’ll give you a real run for the money.’"
That makes me laugh. “I love it. Order those immediately.” I finally spot a place for my X and lay down PROXY. "Forty-two points."
"Show-off." But she's grinning as she studies her own tiles. "Oh, wait. Yes." She lays down SPARKLY across two triple word scores. "Ninety points."
"What? No way. Let me see that."
I lean over to check her math, and she's right. Ninety points.
"I hate you a little bit right now," I say, but I'm smiling.
"No, you don't."
"No, I don't," I agree. “I already told you how much I like you.”
Our eyes meet across the board, and there's that spark again. The same one from when we were standing in the snow last night, right before nature dumped snow on us.
"Your turn," Lauren says softly.
I force myself to look back at the board. Focus on the game, not on how much I want to kiss her again.
I play EMBER, using her Y. "Twenty-eight points."
"Nice."
When I play JAZZ, Lauren accuses me of showing off. When she plays YULETIDE across two triple word scores for an obscene number of points, I demand a recount.
"You're just mad because I'm winning," she says.
I’m not mad at all. But teasing her is half the fun. "You're winning by twelve points. That's hardly a victory."
"Twelve points is twelve points."
I study my remaining tiles. I've got some good letters left, but nowhere great to play them. Lauren is humming under her breath again and I realize I'm more focused on watching her than on the game.
She's got the blanket wrapped around her shoulders, her hair falling in waves around her face. She's chewing on her bottom lip as she considers her next move, and there's a little crease between her eyebrows that appears when she's concentrating.
She's so damn beautiful. Not just physically, though she's definitely that. But there's something about her energy, her quick wit, the way she lights up when she's passionate about something.
"Dylan?"
I blink. "Huh?"
"It's your turn. You've been staring at your tiles for like nine years."
"Sorry. I was strategizing."
She laughs, and the sound makes my chest warm. "Play your word, bourbon boy."
I lay down VELVET, using her D. "Thirty-one points. And I'm catching up."
"Not for long." She plays BLIZZARD, somehow managing to use both a double letter score and a double word score. "Forty-seven points."
I groan. "Okay, that's just insult to injury."
"That's just mad skill."
The game has dissolved into something looser, more playful. When I try to play QUIXOTIC and she challenges it for being too many letters, we end up in a ridiculous debate about whether compound words should be allowed.
"They're not compound words, they're just long words," I argue.
"Same difference."
"Not even close to the same difference."
"Fine. Play your seven-letter word. But I'm playing MISTLETOE next round and you can't stop me."
"Mistletoe is nine letters!"
"Is it?" She counts on her fingers. "Damn. You're right. Okay, fine. GARLAND then."
We play several more rounds, the score staying close. I pull ahead by a few points, then she plays TINSEL and jumps ahead again.
Finally, we're both down to our last few tiles. Lauren has been getting quieter, more focused, and I can tell she's trying to figure out how to use her remaining letters for maximum points.
"You want to call it?" I ask. "We can count up what we have left and subtract from our scores."
"No way. I'm going to use these last letters no matter what. We’ll have all day." She studies the board for another minute, then suddenly grins. "Got it." She lays down ZEN in a spot that gives her a triple word score. "Twenty-four points. And I'm out of letters."
"Damn." I look at my remaining tiles. I've got a Q and a U that I never managed to use. "You win. I fold."
"I do win, don't I?" She's beaming. "Final score is?"
We tally everything up. She beats me by eighteen points.
"Good game," I say, reaching across the table to shake her hand. I’m not even remotely upset, but I enjoy poking at her. “I’m silently seething. I’m outraged. I’m devastated.”
She takes my hand, but instead of shaking, she just holds it for a moment. Her skin is warm in mine, and I don't want to let go.
"At least you’re not a sore loser," she says. “Much.”
"I'm competitive, but I'm not an asshole about it. Much." I run my thumb across her knuckles. "Besides, I got distracted."
"By what?"
She knows by what. "You."
"Dylan…" She looks like she’s debating whether this is a good idea or not.
I let it go since she’s on the other side of the table from me and I don’t want her to do anything she doesn’t want to do. Hell, I don’t know if it’s a good idea or not either.
"Help me put this game away and then we can figure out what to do for lunch. I'm thinking we might need to venture outside again to clear that tree branch off the driveway."
"In this weather?"
"It's stopped snowing. The sun is out." As cozy as the cabin is, I could use some fresh air and physical activity. Something to burn off this restless energy.
"I’m going to jump in the shower first, in case the power goes out again. I’ll meet you there.”
I eye Lauren. “You have no intention of going outside, do you?”
“Nope.”
I don’t blame her for wanting to stay inside and take a hot shower instead, but I’m disappointed. I want to spend all the time that I can with her. “What about the tree branch? I might need your help.”
"Rule number six, don’t ask your roommate to help move anything." She starts to pack up the Scrabble board.
"How many rules are we up to now?"
"I've lost count. But I'm sure we're violating most of them."
She's right about that.
“I guess I should call Chance and see if he has a plow service that will come and clear the driveway.”
“That’s a fantastic idea. That seems logical, right?”
“Then I guess I’ll go outside.” I hesitate, again struck by the fact that I don’t want to waste a single minute with Lauren.
But she just sails past me to her bedroom, giving me a wave. “See you in a bit! Go forth and conquer the driveway for us.”
The door to her room shuts firmly.
I no longer think I might be in trouble.
I know I am.
Because if there’s such a thing as love-after-twenty-four-hours I think I’ve been hit with it.
When I step out onto the front porch and pull the front door, it causes snow on the roof to slide. Right onto my head. Again.
The cold on my head is a nice jolt.
Maybe if enough snow lands on me I’ll snap out of it.
“Fucking hell,” I mutter to no one and nothing in particular.