“Aw, hell.” Mateo’s partner glances up from his phone, apologizing with a look. “I gotta go. Just got called in to work.”
Fine by me.
“Oh well.” I try to sound disappointed, leaning up, ready to slide Bristol off my lap so we can get the hell out of here and head home. “We’ll call it a draw and finish next time.”
“Let me play.” Bristol turns her head, eyes begging. “I can take his place. I’ve been watching. I think I have the hang of it. I’m really good at card games.”
“You don’t just pick up Spades,” I scoff. We take our Spades seriously.
“From what I’ve seen,” she continues, undeterred, “it’s basically a combination of strategic thinking, risk assessment, intuition, and good old-fashioned luck.”
We stare at her like she’s grown another head.
“Stick to games you can handle, like Crimes Against Humanity,” I say, “ow-ing” slightly when she punches my chest.
“It’s Cards Against Humanity,” she corrects. “And maybe you’re scared I’ll kick your ass.”
“Uh, yeah, that’s it.” I slide her off my lap. “I’ll teach you Spades another time.”
“She would be my partner, right?” Mateo leans back in the poor chair creaking its complaint under his substantial weight.
Bristol pauses, halfway up from my lap.
“Yeah.” She nods eagerly, scrambling over to take the seat Mateo’s partner vacated. “I promise I won’t let you down.”
“This is crazy.” I shuffle the cards into a neat deck. “She’s a beginner.”
“I’ll take her,” Mateo says.
Bristol claps enthusiastically and gives me a triumphant look.
“You have the deck.” She nods her head toward the cards in my hand. “Deal.”
I’ll never truly understand what transpired over the next half hour, but somehow Mateo and my novice girlfriend go on an epic tear that leaves us a hundred points behind in the end. I’m stunned and disgusted as Mateo lifts Bristol clear off the ground and twirls her around. They commence mercilessly rubbing in their unlikely win, and even contrive some weird victory shimmy.
It’s kind of turning me on. Maybe now we can go.
“Partner, you gotta drink to our win.” Mateo proffers a forty ounce to Bristol.
This should be fun—Bristol drinking a forty.
She takes the bottle to her lips and then screws her face up with distaste.
“Oh, my God.” She wipes the excess liquid from her mouth. “Do we have to drink lighter fluid?”
Everyone who has gathered around cracks up. Pink floods her cheeks and she covers her face with both hands. I pry her fingers away, one hand finding her waist and the other caressing her neck.
“Hmmm, I don’t know what your problem is.” I drop a kiss on her lips. “Tastes good to me.”
She scans the circle o
f people gathered around us, her face lit up and still slightly pink by the time she looks back to me. She hooks her wrists behind my neck.
“Maybe it’s an acquired taste,” she says.
She’s the acquired taste, and I don’t need to ever have another woman for the rest of my life to know she’s the sweetest thing, the only thing that will satisfy me. I’m seduced by her openness, captivated by her willingness to dive into my world and find her place. She fills my vision to the very edge until I can’t focus on anyone but her.
“No fraternizing with the enemy, Bristol,” Mateo says, tugging her into a side hug and taunting me with a smirk.