Page 109 of Holidating
“Figures. That’s all they live for.Games. They made my life into one of their crude little games.”
Andy made an irritated noise. “They did. And that sucks.”
“He acted like a pig,” I said.
“He is a pig. But what would make you feel better? An apology?”
I considered that idea. “I want him to wear a t-shirt every day for a week that reads:I am a pig.”
Andy laughed. “You should consider law school, Katie. You’d make an interesting judge.”
I looked up at him then, and his warm brown eyes were smilingat me again. “That’s just the sorority girl solution, Andy. Haven’t you heard the joke? How many sorority girls does it take to screw in a lightbulb?”
He cocked his head like a puppy. “How many?”
“Six. One to change the lightbulb and five to make the t-shirts.”
He touched his empty beer bottle to mine. “Good one, sister. Is there a frat version of that joke?”
“Sure. It takes eleven frat boys to screw in a lightbulb. One to hold the bulb, and ten to drink enough that the room starts spinning.”
He gave me the hot smile again. “You are a total hoot when you’re stressed out.”
“Why, thank you. I’m almost as fun when I’m not stressed out.” But of course he wouldn’t know that, because tonight he was keeping company with a total head case. “I have to walk back into that room. The only alternative is transferring to a school in South America. Or Europe. I hear Spain is nice this time of year.”
Andy winced. “They made your visit to their house into a game, but it was a game you didn’t know you were playing. And now you’re supposed to go in there and be social, and pretend like it never happened. Another game.”
“And not knee him in the balls, or throw up, yes.”
He set his empty beer down on the mantelpiece, which is probably exactly what that space had been used for since the beginning of time. “So maybe what you need to get through the next half hour is one more game. A harmless one, though. You and I can play a game with them, only they won’t know they’re playing.”
Now I was lost. “What game?”
“Well…” he tapped a finger on the mantel. “We’ll try get each guy to say the name of an animal in conversation.”
“Ananimal?”
“Sure. That’s what you called him. And if you’re focused on that, you won’t stop to worry whether they’re looking at you funny.”
“Andy, theywillbe looking at me funny. Because I’m going to have to have some pretty weird conversations to get an animal name out of them.”
He just grinned. “Who cares? I’ll be doing it, too. For points. Whoever gets the most animals wins. And no repeats.”
It was the most ridiculous idea I’d ever heard. And maybe the most brilliant. “So, this is competitive?”
“Unless you’re afraid to take me on.”
I giggled. “Please. Sorority girls aremadefor this game. I’m a Division One small talk champion. Bring it, basketball dude. And maybe I can get Dash to say the word ‘pig.’ Since he is one.”
His eyebrows shot up. “That’s a good twist, honestly. It’s like a trump card. A trump animal.”
“Right! If I get Dash to say ‘pig,’ I win automatically.”
“He doesn’t have, like, a pet pig that I don’t know about? Am I being gamed, missy?”
I shook my head. “If either one of us can get anybody to say ‘pig,’ we win. So it’s a little like catching the golden snitch.”
“Okay. I’m in. But they have to say ‘pig,’ and not some similar word. Because how hard would it be to get a frat boy to talk about how much he likes bacon?”
