Standing, he keeps my hand in his, and we walk over to the dining hall, where Sanders has a bar set up along with a bunch of finger foods and some games.

“There they are, the hottest couple of the day,” Sanders says with a wink.

“Hottest?” I ask.

“Oh yes.” He starts making us each a cocktail…with copious amounts of rum. “I talked with all the counselors, and they agreed your make-out session was the most intense. Seemed like you guys couldn’t get enough of each other. The night in the tent must have really done its job.”

I chuckle nervously. “Well, you know what they say. Holding out has its charms.”

“I might need to put that into my practice. Seems like it has really worked for you two. But don’t get complacent. You still need to work at this and practice your communication.”

“I could not agree more,” Wilder says. “Communication is key.”

Could he be any more obvious?

“That’s right. Now, take your drinks, fill up a plate of food, and head on over to table number twelve, where you’ll be playing a game. We have certain games picked out for each couple, so I hope you enjoy.”

“Thank you,” we both say and then head on over to the food, where we stack our plates full, and find table twelve, which is in the back.

There’s nothing on the table other than a stack of cards. The other tables have games like Connect Four, Battleship, even Pictionary, but we just have a stack of cards.

Makes me nervous…

We both take a seat, and Wilder holds his drink out to me. “Cheers,” he says. “On a successful make-out session.”

My smile wobbles as I say, “Cheers.”

He takes a large gulp of his drink and then hisses while setting the glass down. “Fuck, that’s a lot of rum.”

Thank God.

I take a large sip as well and feel the alcohol burn all the way down my throat. Yup, that feels nice. Let’s keep them coming.

“Hello, you two,” Sanders says, startling the both of us. “Thought I’d let you know that I chose a particularly special game for the both of you. One that I hope you have fun playing. It’s just a question-and-answer game. And once you answer, you must take a drink of your drink.”

“Wow, are you trying to get us drunk?” Wilder asks.

Sanders winks. “That’s the plan.” Then he walks away, leaving us to our game, drinks, and food.

Not wanting to get sick with too much drinking, I pick up one of the beef crostini and take a large bite while Wilder picks up a card.

He reads it over, smirks, and then looks me in the eyes.

Uh-oh, I don’t like that look.

It smells like trouble.

“Scottie,” he clears his throat, “what is your favorite sexual fantasy?”