Page 46 of The Christmas Letters
Drew holds up his hands. “I’m totally lost.”
“Here’s how the game works,” Chloe explains. “There are two teams. For this game, it will be me and Deacon against you and Tess. We’ll take turns asking each other this or that questions. You want your answers to be the same. If they are, you get a point. But you have to answer truthfully. So if you’re the one asking the question, you want to try and pick something that you know your opponents are more likely to disagree on. Because then their answers won’t agree, and they won’t get a point. Make sense?”
“So really, that puts us at an advantage,” Drew says, looking at me. “Because you know Chloe and Deacon well enough to ask questions you know they’ll disagree on. But they don’t know me well enough to do the same.”
“I like the way you think,” I say.
“Tess only thought it was a disadvantage because she’s been known to change her answers just to win,” Deacon says.
I smirk. “Maybe my favorite foods just change every day. You can’t really know if I’m cheating or not.”
Deacon and Chloe exchange a look, then face Drew. “She totally cheats,” they both say, perfectly in sync.
“Whatever. I’m not the only one who does it. Your brother cheats all the time, Deac. And it still takes skill to guess what your partner is going to answer. It just makes the game fun for a different reason.”
“Come on.” Chloe calls us all to order. “Let’s just play. This time, as honestly as possible.” She scrunches her brow, looking from me to Drew, then back to me again. “Cornhole or horseshoes?”
“Cornhole,” we both say, responding at the same time. We share a look, and Drew’s grin makes my heart squeeze.
“One point for us,” I add. I look from Chloe to Deacon. Stumping them is too easy. “Sushi or Italian.”
Chloe rolls her eyes. “No more food questions from you. You know us too well.”
“Who likes what?” Drew asks me, leaning close enough that his breath tickles my neck.
“Chloe loves sushi,” I say. “Deacon hates it.”
He nods like he’s filing this information away. “How doyoufeel about sushi?”
I lean into him. Because I can’t help it. Because it literally feels like there’s a magnet pulling me toward him. “I love it. You?”
“Definitely. Seafood?”
“All kinds. Scallops are my favorite.”
He smiles. “Mine, too.” The intensity of Drew’s gaze shifts my already heightened sense of awareness into hyperdrive. His every move, his every breath, I see it all. Feel it all.
“Hey. No collaborating over there,” Chloe says from across the table, and Drew lifts his lips into a lopsided smile beforewinkingat me. Normally, I might find winking cheesy or even annoying, but Drew totally pulls it off.
“Mountains or beach?” Deacon asks, forcing us to turn and face him.
“Beach,” we answer, in complete unison for the second time in a row.
“We’re toast, Chlo,” Deacon says, though his grin says he doesn’t mind too much.
The questions bounce back and forth across the table for several more rounds.
Yahtzee or Connect Four?
Poker or Monopoly?
Sleep in or wake early?
Dogs or cats?
Sailing or surfing?
At this question, Drew’s eyes dart to mine, emotion flashing behind them. He can only be thinking of his parents. I reach under the table and squeeze his knee, and together we both say, “Surfing.”
