Page 46 of Fun at Parties
Michael Embry pulls on the highlighter-coloredDADDYsweatband he nabbed from Omar and gives his fingertips a gratuitous lick. Kyla shouts, “Go!” and the game is underway. Michael Embry and his girlfriend complete the first couple jumps easily, but the distance to the brown leather ottoman is a real test. He lands on all fours with a thump, gracelessly but successfully. But then his girlfriend, who’s wearing the matchingMOMMYsweatband, lands short, right on the edge of the ottomon, scrambling to hold on so her feet don’t hit the floor. She shrieks, as do her friends, and he catches her by the arms and pulls her up. Close call.
I’m so invested in the game I almost don’t notice Nate coming to stand beside me. He looks gutted. “The people who went to the airport just got here,” he says. “But Logan’s not with them.”
“What?Where is he?”
“Livvie said they were cagey about it. Didn’t really give an answer. He still has no phone, apparently.”
We stare at each other. I’m sure I’m not masking the horror I feel, and he certainly isn’t. We drove twelve hours to be here. Where the hell is Logan?
“There’s more,” Nate says grimly. “Earlier, she texted one of the guys he was with. She told him to let Logan know there were two surprises from New Jersey here, looking forward to seeing him.”
“But…but why would he…” Words fail me.
In front of us, Michael Embry and his girlfriend arestaring down the final obstacle: the leap to the oatmeal linen cushion. Big enough for two people to stand on, but so far from the previous pillow that they’ll have to give it their all. Michael Embry goes first, clearing the distance and dropping to his knees so he doesn’t overshoot the landing. Then he catches his girlfriend, and they collapse in a heap. He roars in triumph.
I look back at Nate as everyone cheers. His throat works as he tries to swallow whatever’s on his mind, until he can’t. “I’m afraid he knew we were here. That he’s avoiding me on purpose.”
“But why would he do that?”
He shakes his head. “Either he’s still pissed about the argument we had in Tahoe, or he’s guessed what I want to talk to him about, and he’s not interested.”
I don’t know what to say, so I stay beside him and slide my arms around his waist, tipping my head against his chest. His heart beats fiercely against my cheek, and he pulls me in tighter. We watch the next few teams race through the course with varying levels of success.
“Where are Ade and Peyton?” Kyla calls out. “They’re supposed to be next.”
“He passed out upstairs,” Livvie says. “Forfeit?”
Nate still looks devastated, and I’m not feeling great about our situation myself, so I make a split-second decision. “We’ll sub in.”
Chapter 15
Nate recoils. “What?”
“We have two options. We either leave this party and wallow, or we play this ridiculous game and laugh our asses off. Let’s have fun making fools of ourselves.”
“I’ve already made a fool of myself,” he grumbles.
I grab his face, and his eyes go soft. “Hey,” I say. “You have not. And we’re not giving up, we’re just not dealing with it until tomorrow morning.”
“You really want to?”
“I really do.”
He massages the back of his neck, not looking remotely sold, but then he nods. “If we do this,” he says solemnly, “we have to beat Michael Embry.”
At first, our odds don’t seem great. The pillows at the start are deceptively squishy, and they feel much smaller than they look when Nate and I are standing on them together. I stumble on the second one, my body lurching left as I try to avoid smashing into Nate. The teams that have done the best have used each other as backstops and ladders. We’re going to have to be comfortable with more physical contact.
The ottoman is next. “I’ll go first,” I say, confident that with all the plyometrics I do, I can nail this one. “The leather is slippery. If you overdo it, you’ll slide off, but if you jump short, you’re screwed. I’ll try to grab you.”
“And I’ll try not to knock your teeth out.”
The clock is ticking, so I go for it and land dead center, dropping to my knees and spinning around. Nate crashes into my lap, wrapping his legs around my hips to avoid kneeing me in the crotch, which I appreciate. Except his entire body presses into mine, sending heat everywhere, and it feels too good. For god’s sake, there’s afetuswatching.
We win our first round easily, after one of our opponents bites it on the balance beam (with no injuries except a dislodged press-on nail). Our second round is closer, but we figure out a rhythm that works. It also involves each of us clinging to the other like a tree.
“Thank you for this ridiculous idea,” Nate says as we wait for Michael Embry and his girlfriend to start their final run. His cheeks are flushed, and that one lock of hair that’s always so disobedient is flipped in the wrong direction. I think he’s having fun. He’s standing behind me with his arms hooked around my shoulders and his face right next to mine.
“You’re welcome.” I lean into him a millimeter.
