Chapter Fifteen

Tate

Everything smells fantastic. A burnt brown sugar and hickory smoke aroma drifts around in the air, strong enough that I'm worried stray dogs are going to smell it on my clothes later and try to follow me back to the cabin. I was leery about blindly following my sister's catering recommendation, but Piper convinced me to let her handle it. Stepping back was the right move. Whoever Fallon hired hit the nail on the head.

I've seen Leo go back for three servings of potato salad now, despite the way Fallon has been glaring at him. The lemonade they brought is so perfectly sweet that even I have no complaints. And I've had the good stuff, made from hand harvested heirloom lemons with organic sugar and raw mountain spring water, served in glasses more expensive than my first car.

Fallon and Piper spent most of the morning moving chairs and tables out behind the main lodge, making sure the caterers have enough room while still leaving ample places to sit for all of the couples who replied to our beta testing invite. The two women in my life are significantly more competent than I am, and I should be scared that one or both of them are going to pass me by one of these days. Watching Piper as she makes small talk with our groundskeeper Hank, hauling cornhole boards across the grass, I'm struck by how beautiful she is when the sunlight hits her dark hair. I don't understand how anyone possibly believes we could be a couple. Without knowing my net worth, no one in their right mind should assume that I could pull somebody like her.

Due mostly to Piper and Fallon's combined efforts, the BBQ is going perfectly. This is, however, only half the battle. The other half is the ridiculous cornhole tournament. Or ‘cornament,' as Fallon has taken to calling it all morning. I can only hope nobody brought it up in front of Captain Obvious or we're going to be hearing about it for the rest of his avian lifespan. And he had a hard enough time with ‘popcorn.'

"Why do you even have these?" Piper huffs incredulously, measuring the distance from one board to its opposite with a tape measure.

"They were for a bachelorette party that stayed here two summers ago," Fallon replies, and my eyes follow Piper's to the surface of the board. Painted in a looping pink-glitter script is the phrase ‘GET IT IN THE HOLE.' If Mom ever saw these she'd have a heart attack, though from laughter or shock I'm not sure. "You said adults only! You're lucky I didn't break out the matching bags they had. Those were … phallic."

Fallon shudders at the memory.

"Literal dickbags, huh?" Piper stifles a laugh. Fallon stares at her with a frown and a faraway look in her eyes. "Ok. I won't pry. You still don't want to play on Leo's team?"

A doubles tournament seemed the best way to break the ice. It would be a low stakes game that everyone could participate in, and something that would move conversations along if they got stale. Piper and I used the algorithmically generated pairings to divvy up teams, but we had given Fallon the option of playing with Leo or not. I was shocked when she chose not to. Their ‘we're only friends' act may fool some people, but I'm not one of them. I've seen through that charade since grade school. Despite that, Piper didn't seem surprised.

"I don't think it will help test the algorithm to its full potential if I'm not randomly assigned too, you know?" It's a flimsy excuse, and Fallon isn't doing herself any favors by looking over her shoulder to where Leo is sitting every single time he's mentioned. I may understand the mechanics of matchmaking better than most, but if my sister is any indication, I don't understand women at all. But then again, Leo isn't doing much to seal the deal. He's always been shy, but when you love a woman, you have to let her know. And last night, from what I overheard, he was being totally wishy washy.

The entire interaction makes me want to tinker with my work, as if all the answers are buried somewhere in my code. If I get my laptop going now, I should be able to make the necessary adjustments to run a few tests before everyone leaves for the day. Wandering over to where Piper stored her things in the caterer's truck, I make it two yards away before she slides in front of me, sticking a hand on my chest. I'm thankful it wasn't the elbow again.

"We have to play, too." She stares at me over the top of her glasses with a look that I can only describe as unwavering. "The numbers won't be even otherwise, and two poor suckers are going to get stuck playing singles. It wouldn't be fair."

"I'm busy." Between the hand on my chest and the look she's giving me, my voice isn't as firm as I want it to be, and my statement comes out with a whiny squeak. Something about bossy Piper makes me weak in the knees. Mostly because I can't help but picture her on her knees with her tongue swirling the head of my cock.

Is there such a thing as reverse dirty talk? I picture her as a dominatrix, dressed all in black leather with a whip in her hand. And the stuff she says in the dark recesses of my mind? The stuff she demands that I do to her? What she doesn't understand is she doesn't even have to force me. I'm her willing subject and she's my queen. One touch. One kiss. One taste. Now I can't even imagine living without her. How in the hell did we get here?

"It's for the good of the project," she insists, reaching for my hand and dragging me back toward the boards. "Let's go."

Piper has naturally paired us with Fallon, likely because Fallon is in on things with us, but I have a small hope in my heart that Piper didn't want us paired with another girl who might make a pass at me. I've never been the jealous type, but I've also never had anyone to be jealous about before. Fallon is partnered with some guy I vaguely recognize from the pizza place in town. Jerry? Gary? Something like that. The thought of this guy even thinking about hitting on Piper makes me want to sling a bean bag right into his nose, and he hasn't even done anything yet.

On top of it all, as much as Fallon keeps looking at Leo, Leo keeps taking every available opportunity to look right back. Never at the same time, both of them carefully timing it so they aren't seen, but it's obvious enough to anyone who cares to look. I'm sure Piper has seen it as well. The tension between them is palpable, and Piper makes an attempt to address it while we line up at our boards, waiting for Fallon's partner to come back with a new beer.

"Trouble in ‘we're only friends' paradise?" Piper asks casually, weighing a bag in her hand.

"I don't want him getting too comfortable." Fallon shakes her hair away from her shoulders. She's worn it loose today, instead of in her usual braid, which definitely feels like it has something to do with this entire Leo situation. "You give a guy girlfriend level life without commitment, and you're asking for trouble. He starts getting lazy. Complacent. Taking you for granted. Then he doesn't put forth any effort because he thinks he has you. No way. I'm not ending up like my mother."

Piper laughs nervously, miming a throw at the board, testing out the angle of her wrist. "Where were you eight years ago?"

My sister juts out a hip. "Why?"

"You're very wise," Piper laughs again, her smile not quite reaching her eyes, and her eyes not reaching anywhere near me. This feels like the conversation around the fire pit about the chocolates all over again, and I try not to let it get to me, lest it spoil the cornament. That's not a phrase I've ever thought to myself before. That's probably not a phrase anyone has ever thought to themselves before.

Trying to keep the energy light and casual, we have the ladies play from one board, and the gents from the other. Which leaves me standing alone with Pizza Guy for large swaths of time. He initially tries to make small talk, but after a few attempts at such riveting classics as ‘nice weather we've been having' and ‘how about those Twins this year?', he begins to get the idea that I'm not the most receptive guy.

Eventually we drift into a comfortable and competitive silence, focusing on the rhythm of bags hitting the boards rather than our lack of conversational skills. I'm not the best cornhole player, I'll admit. I thought the goal was to just get the bag into the hole, but there seems to be some kind of strategy involved when playing doubles, and Gary keeps finding ways to block me out with his bags. The only thing keeping us from total embarrassment is Piper being really good at this. Alarmingly good at this for someone who just had the rules explained to her via YouTube while she did her makeup this morning.

I do a quick tally of the ladies' score for the round, bending over to pick the bags up and reset the board. I hear Piper shout something in my direction, but I make the meaning of her words out too late, and the only thing I see is a cloud of pink canvas stuffed with plastic beads overtaking my vision like a solar eclipse, before it slaps directly into my face.

"You've been cornholed!" Fallon shouts, pumping her fist in the air. I'd believe it's an accident, but her aim was so good when we were kids that we used to call her Fallon Four Bags.

"I don't know what this means," I sigh, smoothing my hair and straightening my shirt, trying to retain a shred of dignity in front of Piper. She's doing her best not to laugh at me, even as she's visibly biting the entire inside of her left cheek just to keep it together.

"I'm shocked," my sister replies sarcastically, clutching her chest in mock surprise. Then, after doing a quick tally of the score so far, beams at Gary, throwing an arm over his shoulder. "Also, we're the cornstars. Take that Leo!" She pumps her fist and then starts humming a seventies disco tune that sounds like something Eric Edwards thrusted to on a gold velvet couch back in the day.

I turn my head to follow her line of sight to where Leo is chatting with a slender brunette girl who works at the marina. He looks over her shoulder at Fallon, and nods with a tight smile and polite wave.

Fallon's competitive streak and years spent hurling bean bags at a wooden board paid off, leaving her and Gary with the highest score of the afternoon, making them the true ‘cornstars' of the day. Piper stayed up late last night writing the title on white sashes in puff paint at Fallon's request, and I swear my sister tears up when she drapes the thing over her head and onto her shoulder. I think it's a deep-seated psychological trauma about not winning homecoming queen her senior year, but who's to say?

There's a ton of food left after the tournament, and about three-quarters of the couples decide to stay for an impromptu bonfire that Leo gets going. I make a note of which couples stayed, and if they still seem to be with their original partner, entering all of this information frantically into my phone.

"Still working?" Piper throws a leg over the folding chair next to me and sits down with a paper plate of raw vegetables. I didn't realize people even ate those. I always thought you just brought a tray of them out to these sorts of things as a courtesy and then they get soggy and thrown straight in the trash where raw vegetables belong.

"Is that not the point of this entire exercise?" I fire back, glaring at her over the top of my phone. "You'd have looked really cute in a sash. Sorry I let you down."

"No big deal." She arches an eyebrow at me, pushing a carrot stick around in a puddle of ranch dressing. "Still, I can't help but notice that you seem to be lacking in some of the skills the rest of your family exhibits. Why is that, do you think?"

Sighing, I slip my phone back into my pocket, settling deeper into the chair and resting my hands behind my head. "Yeah, I suck. I didn't play much cornhole. I wasn't a joiner as a kid. I guess I've always kind of enjoyed my own company more than anyone else. Until now. I love spending time with you, Piper."

No matter how much my dad tried to push me into doing things with the other kids, I was perfectly content to curl up in a corner with a book or a pack of flashcards instead. Mom didn't seem to mind. She thought it would make me smarter than everybody else, and at least one of us had to go away to college. She was right, and she was supportive in her own way, but I can't help but feel like it's the reason I've always felt alienated when we all get together. I wonder if I should go to the doctor now and confirm I'm a bit neurodivergent. If only for myself and my peace of mind.

"Good thing I'm always around," Piper laughs, before her eyes narrow at the expression on my face. She reaches a hand over to my chair, gently squeezing mine. "News flash—being a cornstar isn't a life goal of mine."

My life goal used to be to get out of Sunset Lake. Now, it's become something else entirely. I'm finding with each passing day, that nothing brings me more joy than making Piper smile. And that feels very dangerous indeed.