Page 58 of Our Little Moments

“Unlike you, you arrogant bastard, I don’t see every loss to you fromour teenage yearsas a blow to my ego.”

Jay snorts. “Sure, you don’t.”

“Obviously, I don’t—”

Hazel and Nate arrive with the warm dinner they prepared.

“Noodle soup to warm us all up after this afternoon,” Nate calls as he arrives with the last bowls.

“Yeah. The water was so cold. But it was worth it,” Stella says as Hazel hands over her bowl with a smile.

Three . . .

Two . . .

One . . .

“Your ego must have turned blue from all the blows I gave it over the course of our lives, mustn’t it, Jay?”

Of course, they had to keep going.

Who am I kidding? These two never stopped messing with each other.

So much that I’m able to predict how long they can stay quiet.

Stella’s eyes meet mine from across the fire, and a slow smile is spreading across her face from withheld laughter. I grin back.

“Oh, you’re talking aboutmyego? Why don’t we talk aboutyours? Considering I won our last competition here, it’s only fair we talk about how bruised your ego must be,” Jay calls back.

“Please.” My sister snorts. “As if I’d let my ego take a blow from losing toyou.”

“Then how do you explain not having attacked me earlier until I splashed you? Hmmm? I would call it fear, or doubt, or a bruised ego. Or even better yet, the knowledge that you would have lost.”

The whole camp turns silent at Jay’s taunt, with only the crackling fire filling the silence.

Isa places her bowl on the ground, clasps her hands together in a firm grip and leans in on her knees. Her challenging gaze draws all our attention.

What’s my sister going to start now?

Even after all these years of watching their animosity, I can’t help the curiosity that bubbles to the surface. She stays silent, letting the fire’s annoying crackling in, making the tension become unbearable. Finally, with a voice almost deathly lethal, Isabella says, “You know what, Jay? I don’t live in the past. So, what do you say we settle this whole mess with one final competition?”

Jay’s eyes shine with challenge and confidence—or arrogance, we could say. “Game on. What do you have in mind?”

My sister smirks. “A new, final competition. Here andnow.This time, the winner gets bragging rights, which, mind you, was not in the terms in our first competition, meaning you’re claiming something you haven’t earned, asshole.”

My best friend smirks. “I’m in. I’ll have no problem winning this competition all over again.”

Isabella’s laugh drips with humor as she replies, “Oh, Jay, Jay, Jay . . . Whoever said this competition was between the two of us?”

I stand up. I can tell where her head went. “Hold up. None of us here accepted to be in the middle of your battle over here.”

My sister completely ignores my comment, her eyes full of fire, completely fixed on Jay’s. “What? You scared you won’t be able to actually work in teams?”

Jay laughs a true laugh that actually makes all tension disappear. “Iwon’t have any trouble with collaboration. What’s your plan for the teams?”

Isabella breaks her eye contact with Jay and looks at all of us. “I suggest we do it this way: Jay and I choose someone to be on our team, then the chosen one chooses someone else, so on and so forth.”

Were we really letting Jay and Isabella’s urge to compete in everything involve us all?

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