“Yes!” Red Clogs said, and the person who had answered correctly ran into the living room.

We did this seven more times until I heard the sound of cheering come from the other room. The puppy was barking too, clearly having aligned herself with the winning team.

“Dammit,” Adrienne said.

“It’s just the first round,” Red Clogs said. “We’ll get into the groove.”

“Maybe if Gabe actually started playing,” Adrienne said, tossing us a look that was both playful and threatening.

Gabe laughed. “I’m just teaching the newbie how to play,” he said.

“Sure,” Adrienne said, throwing her hair over her shoulder.

I stuck my tongue out at her and she laughed.

“Why is your tongue purple?” she asked.

“I told you,” I said. “Too many jelly beans.”

“Getting the hang of it?” Gabe asked.

He was standing very close to me. I felt the warmth of his whisky-laced breath against my temple.

“I think so.” My voice was husky.

“Good,” he said.

I wanted to lean back against him and it wasn’t until gravity began its downward pull that I realized I’d started to do just that. Of course, I hadn’t checked exactly how close he was, and for one horrible second, I was convinced I was about to fall on my ass.

Gabe, however, scooped me up under my armpits and hoisted me back to my feet before I could complete my London Bridge impression.

“All right here?” Adrienne asked.

“Just dandy,” I said, feeling embarrassed and surly.

“You gonna give it a try this round?” Gabe asked.

The challenge in his tone sparked my mostly dormant competitive nature.

“Yeah,” I said, lifting my chin.

“That’s my girl,” he said.

I blushed. Fiercely.

Even though I was certain Gabe had already seen it, I turned my face away, doing an over-the-top impression of someone who was watching the door.

Adrienne was stretching again. Her lunges were so deep that her knees touched the floor.

“You ready?” she asked me, V-ing her fingers and pointing to her eyes and then at me and back again.

“Oh yeah,” I said.

I wasn’t.

Team Two lost three more rounds.

“This is bullshit,” said Red Clogs, whose name, I had learned, was Natasha. “Who picked these teams?”

Everyone pointed at Gabe. He shrugged, and took another drink of whatever was in his red Solo cup. From the smell, it was a delicate mix of whisky and whisky.

“At least I’m trying,” he said.

Everyone looked at me.

“Jelly beans,” I said.

“Okay.” Gabe put his cup down and raised his arms over his head before bringing them down and extending his elbows out and away. His shirt had ridden up, exposing his flat, smooth stomach. I stared. I didn’t even pretend not to. He stretched more, taking up space.

“I’ll go next,” he said.