Page 40 of Once Smitten, Twice Shy

The buzzer goes off, making everyone startle. “Okay,” Bea says, slapping off the buzzer. “Subjective prompts beginnow!”

The buzzer made me jump, but I’m mentally prepared for this. I’ve played five different people at this wacky blend of traditional Guess Who and a goofy-ass way that kicks in halfway through the ten-minute window they set for a match. It involves asking eachother ridiculously subjective personality-based questions that are somehow supposed to make it clear whom we’ve picked.

“Does your person,” Juliet says, “when they get a little tipsy, lecture people on the validity of a long-term investment in cryptocurrency?”

“Definitely not,” I tell her.

Petruchio’s friend Nick sighs. “Will I ever live that down?”

Juliet smacks down two doors. “Shit.”

“Oooh,” her side of the table says.

“Does your person,” I ask her, “make themselves poached eggs for breakfast every morning?”

Petruchio gives me the middle finger from where he stands behind Juliet. Junior year, when Petruchio, our other roommate, Grumi, and I finally had a place with our own kitchen, I woke up the first day after moving in to Petruchio in his boxers, poaching himself eggs. He did it every single morning after that, no matter how late he was running or how hungover he was. Always poached eggs. Grumi and I gave him shit about it nonstop.

Juliet snorts. “Hell no.”

I sigh, only shutting two more doors.

“Doesyourperson,” Juliet says, “tell unsuspecting strangers about the digestive benefits of regularly drinking kombucha?”

I frown, thinking. “Yes.”

“That wasonetime!” Toni yells from the kitchen as he tops off his drink.

Hamza snorts a laugh. “One timetheysaw you do it, hon.”

“Excellent,” Juliet quips. Without breaking our stare-off, she flips down a door.

I sit back, examining my options. “Does your person…teach at a small liberal arts college?”

Juliet sighs bleakly. “Dammit.”

“I need a yes or no, Wilmot.”

She gives me a glare. “Yes, okay? Yes!”

I knock down one more door triumphantly. I have two people left who give me vibes of academics with wide smiles who don’t bother with an involved breakfast. I can risk guessing, but if I’m wrong, she wins by default.

I sit back and let Juliet take her turn.

“Does your person…” Juliet bites her lip and smiles up at me. “Look like someone who is…petrified of pigeons?”

I stare down at my chosen character, Daniel, with his burly shoulders, his reddish hair and beard. He barely looks like me, but he’s the closest resemblance she’s going to find for me on this board. My shoulders start to shake. I bury my face in my hands, wheezing, I laugh so hard. “Yes,” I croak hoarsely.

Juliet cackles, snaps down her final two doors, and yells, “I win!”

To a roomful of applause, including mine, she pushes up from the table and starts humming a tune I don’t recognize right away. Now she’s jogging her way around the table, arms raised in triumph.

“JuJu,” Bea says, “are you hummingChariots of Fire’s theme song?”

“You bet I am!” she yells.

I snort a laugh as she jogs by me and finishes her lap around the table. Everyone starts to disperse from the table, but I linger, reaching for the box of games Guess Who was stashed in.

Juliet stops across from me, smile wide, eyes bright, and offers me her hand from across the table. “Well played, Will.”

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