Page 4 of Super Hot Wingman
“Lyceum du Lucerne?” I ask, glancing at Flip.
“That’s where we met. At boarding school in Switzerland. We were paired as roommates from our first day, when we were twelve. And that was it. Friends for life.”
A Swiss boarding school? Of course that’s where they met.
Sitting back down on the couch, I put my wine glass on a coffee table the size of a city block. “Let’s do this,” I say, even more eager to match my Ohio public school wits against a couple of snobs.
“Right,” Asher says, rolling up the cuffs of his shirt.
Damn it. My eyes practically pop out of my head as he exposes muscular, golden forearms.
The guy is too hot for words.
He can’t even be real.
But he’s far too real as he sits next to me, making my whole body flash hot. “Hannah, ladies first. You draw the first clue. Pass the woman the whiteboard.”
* * *
Maybe we get lucky on the first round. It only takes us fifteen seconds of Hannah’s drawing for me to spit out “pizza sauce” after scrutinizing my sister’s circular artwork.
“Nice one!” Flip marks down our time, and gives Hannah a kiss.
I look away.
Then it’s their turn, and I have to admit they’re a good team. Flip isn’t an artist. But his skier is easy enough to discern, especially after he hashes out a mountain in the distance. Then he draws circles around the figure’s eyes, and Asher blurts out “ski goggles!” for the win.
“Wow, eight seconds,” I say. “You guys have a mind meld.”
“This is Zermatt, right?” Asher points at the peak in the corner of the drawing.
“You know it!” The two high five each other.
I roll my eyes.
Our next turn doesn’t go as well, though. The card I choose reads “vegetarian.”
Christ. What does a vegetarian look like?
“And . . . go!” Asher says.
I hastily draw a face on the whiteboard, with an open mouth. Um . . . okay. I will draw a vegetable. I try a turnip. “Apple mouth!” my sister yells. “Bobbing for apples!”
With the side of my fist, I erase the turnip and draw a carrot instead. And then another carrot. And then a bunch of grapes, which take forever. And a banana.
“Monkey! Hungry! Fruit eater!”
“Time’s up!” Flip calls.
“Vegetarian,” I gasp.
Hannah slaps her forehead. “Ohhhhh . . .”
“Is it just me?” Flip asks. “Or were you thinking—”
“—Blow job!” Asher says, and the two of them burst into laughter, while high-fiving each other again.
Now I’m thinking about blow jobs.
