Page 31 of Emmett

Reaching for a loosely-fitted block, I use my pinkie to slide it a few millimeters from its place, using my index finger and thumb to pull it the rest of the way once I can get a grip on it. I flip the block over to read the rule written on it, Cha-Ching. In Logan’s version of the game, the player who pulls that block is to send the player to their left five bucks.

With a laugh, I pull my phone from my pocket and open the appropriate app. “QR code?” I ask the guy to my left. He shows it to me and I scan it, sending him fifty bucks instead of the required five.

We play a few more rounds until the tower finally topples over, forcing the wobbly girl from before to down the rest of her drink, and I make a mental note to avoid her for the rest of the evening because she’s officially a puke risk.

With the game over, I move through the house and out to the spacious backyard that probably takes up at least a third of the square footage of the property. There’s a thick layer of healthy grass, freshly cut, across the entirety of the lawn which starts just past the cement patio. At one side of the patio there’s a fire pit, not in use tonight, but when it’s lit up, it’s pretty damn perfect. At the other end, a group of people surround what must be the new keg that Logan brought out, with someone upside down on top of it doing a keg stand while the group around them cheers.

I finally spot Logan at the edge of the group and take up a space next to him, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

“You got next?” He asks me.

“Hell no,” I laugh. “The last time I did one of those, I laughed halfway through and it came out of my nose.”

“Oh shit, that’s right!” He throws his head back with a cackle. “I thought you were gonna bust your head open on the keg.”

I take a sip from my drink, shifting my weight on my feet. “Hey, what did you want to talk to me about?”

“Right, I almost forgot. Come with me,” he tells me, inclining his head toward the house.

I follow him off of the patio and through the back door, passing the kitchen and into the living room, where another round of drunk Jenga has begun among a new, larger group of people who are at least twice as drunk as my group was at the start of our game – at least when I joined them.

“What’s with all the cloak and dagger?” I ask as we walk through the house. “If you’re about to make me check you for crabs again, I’m out.”

Logan doubles over with a laugh, slapping his thigh, and says, “No, not this time. I have something for you.”

“I don’t think I want it,” I chuckle.

We pass the threshold into Logan’s bedroom and I drop down to take a seat at the edge of his bed while he digs through the drawers of his desk.

A knock sounds at the door before it opens, a woman stumbling into the room after. She’s a good-looking girl; blue hair, tiny shorts, and absolutely stacked.

“Logan,” she sings. I don’t think she even has any idea that I’m in here, which is only confirmed by the surprise on her face when her eyes finally land on me. “Oh, I didn’t know this was a group thing. Cool.”

“No,” I say, putting my hands up in front of me as I stand. “Definitely not a ‘group thing.’” I clap Logan on the shoulder as I head out of the room. “I’ll grab it next time. You crazy kids have fun.”

It’s hard not to channel my dad and remind him to wrap it up before I leave, but I know the reminder would just fall on deaf ears. The guy goes stupid around a pretty girl.

•

I feel like a teenager, pushing the door open as quietly as I can while I sneak back inside the house. I damn near scream when a hand clamps down on the back of my neck.

“Coming or going?” Dad asks, pulling an earbud from his ear.

He’s dressed in one of his go-to running outfits, wearing a layer of sweat to complete the look.

“You’re a little old to be going for midnight runs,” I tell him with an arched brow.

“You’re a little old to be sneaking out of the house,” he retorts. He gives the back of my neck another squeeze before moving past me and into the kitchen to make a protein shake. “Did you drink?”

“Abeer.” I make a big show of sticking my arms out at my sides, bringing my left index finger to touch the tip of my nose and repeating with the right, then I put my heels to my toes and walk in a perfectly straight line with my arms out at my sides. “See? Completely sober.”

“Smartass.”

Clapping him on the shoulder, I tell him, “I’m good. It was just a quick stop-in at Logan’s.”

“Alright, go get some sleep. We have a big day tomorrow.”

I throw him a quick two-finger salute before starting out of the kitchen.