Page 44 of Just This Once

The crowd around us was completely oblivious to our petty, silent bickering. They were engaged and rowdy, calling above the DJ, whooping and hollering as their teams earned points for correct answers. Abel King and a few servers worked the bar and ensured participants were never without a drink.

Sloane had worked our table, and her cheerful wink made me smile. She was sweet, and I promised myself I would ask MJ if she and Sloane would like to go out for coffee or drinks sometime. Making friends as an adult was awkward as shit, but if Outtatowner was going to become my home, I needed to get past any hang-ups of rejection.

As the night wore on, my competitive streak bloomed in full force. More than once I had to catch myself from glaring at tables that weren’t taking it seriously. It became pretty clear that Phil and the Blanks were a team mostly there to pick up women. But I didn’t care, because the purchase of their ticket only benefited the foundation.

When a break between rounds finally came and MJ disappeared for a bathroom break, I focused my attention on assessing the room. For each table, I had included a handwritten thank-you card detailing how their donations benefited the children of Outtatowner, along with other ways they might be able to help. Even the empty Cheese Balls tub used for additional donations was filling up quickly. Each group had also been given a small basket of snacks, provided by the foundation.

Across our high-top table, Whip caught my attention as his eyes flicked from me to the center of the table, where I had my eye on a small bag of pretzels. His hand reached out and snatched it.

What a jerk.

His eyebrow tipped up as he opened the bag and slid it across the table to me without a word. I scowled at him despite my growling stomach. Reluctantly, I plucked the bag off the table and diverted my attention to the DJ, who was announcing the next question just as MJ returned to her seat.

“First question of the round... What is the only planet to rotate on its side?” The music, which served as our timer, played in the background.

I perked up and spoke around my mouthful of pretzel. “Uranus.”

Whip sat straighter and planted his hand on his chest. “My anus?”

I didn’twantto laugh, so I concealed my cackle with a clearing of my throat. I shot him a bored look and flicked a pretzel in his direction as Brooklyn’s laugh cracked above the crowd.

I swallowed down my mouthful of dry pretzels. “It’s pronounced Yoor-ah-nis. Notyour-anus.” I shook my head. “Child.”

Whip sent a playful look my way, and I coughed into my elbow to hide a grin.

Rachel narrowed her eyes on me as she wrote our answer on a slip of paper. “You’re sure?”

“Sure. Sure.” I nodded. In fact, I’d once had to talk with a few of my students about a particularly tasteless joke on the very topic.

“If you say so.” Rachel folded our slip of paper and held it up. “Runner!” MJ hopped off her stool and took the paper toward the DJ as he counted down the last thirty seconds over the microphone.

Under the table, Whip’s knee bumped mine, and I shifted in my seat to avoid contact. It was bad enough he smelled as good as he did and wouldn’t stop looking at me with danger sparking in his eyes.

When the DJ announced the correct answer, our team cheered, and I added our points to the running total on the slip of paper I was using to keep track. “Okay.” I looked at our team, imploring them to get serious. “If we get the next few correct, we might pull off second place. We’ll need a miracle to beat the Forrest Grumps.” I scanned the crowd, pleased everyone seemed to be having a great time. “And Victorious Secret is hot on our tails.”

The team across the room included Tootie Sullivan and five other women, a few of whom I recognized from the Bluebirds meeting.

MJ laughed and reached across the table to steal my paper. “Relax, Emily. This is supposed to be fun.”

“TheWarden?” Rachel teased as she bumped me. “Have fun?”

I playfully snarled in her direction. “I know how to have fun,” I insisted, signaling for MJ to hand the paper back. “I just don’t want the Smarty Pints to win.Smartymy ass,” I grumbled with ascowl. “I saw them using their phones to look up answers. That’s cheating.”

Whip’s rumbling laughter filled the air, but I didn’t get the sense he was laughingatme. It was more like he was enjoying himself despite the frosty attitude toward him I’d be harboring all evening.

“Shh, shh. Next question is coming.” Brooklyn wound her arm around the back of Rachel’s chair, and my cheeks pinched tight with a smile. It looked as though their first date was going really well, and I was so happy for my friend.

“Okay, teams, next question. What is a group of flamingos called?” The music started up again, this time an electric synth-pop song I didn’t recognize.

I racked my brain but couldn’t come up with a plausible answer.

“A murder?” MJ offered, but frowned at her own answer. “No, that’s crows.”

“Flock is too obvious, right?” Rachel asked the group.

“Forty seconds. Let’s get those answers turned in!” the DJ crooned.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. My palms went up in defeat. “I got nothing... maybe just write downflock. A guess is better than not answering.”

---