24. The All-Mighty Jenga Tower

24

THE ALL-MIGHTY JENGA TOWER

LILA

I never thought I’d live to see the day Bristol Brenner agreed to settle down with anyone. And even though our path in getting here wasn’t exactly smooth, I’d go through all that heartache and pain again just to feel as insanely happy as I do right now.

So, as a celebration for this—frankly unbelievable—milestone, we’re attending an annual Reapers party for the first time as an official couple. It’s not a surprise to anyone, really, given our history and the… ahem …racy photoshoot pictures that are circulating the interwebs.

Since Bristol volunteered to help set up, I’m meeting him at the Reapers’ mansion, which allows me about an hour of prep time and daily affirmations in the mirror to get my nerves under control. This is a big deal for me—and hopefully for him.

I’ve gone for a cowl neck, satin dress in an incredible olive color, which has a low neckline and an open back that blurs the line between sophisticated and flirty. And you’d be impressed to know I’m only wearing three-inch heels tonight. With a few shots of tequila in my system, I set off for the party of the year, more than ready to make my debut as the Reapers’ latest WAG .

The minute I arrive, Bristol seeks me out like a police sniffer dog, cups my face in his hands, and takes advantage of the mostly vacant foyer to stop time with a world-spinning kiss. I wreathe my arms around his neck, press my fast-beating heart to his chest, and arch my back slightly when I feel his hands start to journey lower. I can’t believe we’re together together. With a label and everything.

He treats me to a supple kiss that rounds all the bases and homeruns straight into the cleft between my thighs, and my whole body undergoes a miniature explosion of tingles, warming the liquid courage in my butterfly-filled belly. This kiss feels different. It feels more genuine, more purposeful, more assured. It feels like something I’ve only ever dreamed of before, but better .

A thousand times better.

Emboldened, I angle my head so I can deepen the kiss, showing him just how much I’ve missed him—and he doesn’t waste a second before enticing me with his own hungry urgency. It’s more than a chaste peck, but less of a gateway to Make Out Central. It’s… perfect .

We both pull away at the same time, and I’m pretty sure I won’t need another sip of alcohol for the rest of the night. Bristol’s enough of a stimulant. Plus, his lips taste way better. His hair is stylishly messy, and his plain shirt is so deliciously tailored to his body that I can just barely see the definition of his abs through it. And don’t get me started on those cables of muscle running up and down his arms.

His fingers play in the material of my dress, and his eyes have this dazed gloss over them as they survey my face. I’ve been the recipient of many of Bristol’s looks—glowering, remorseful, even a sexy, post-orgasm thank-you—but I’ve never been looked at in this way before. Almost like he’s a bit drunk, but without the alcohol flush on his cheeks .

“Your heart’s beating really fast,” he whispers, breaking out that signature, high-voltage grin that nobody in their right mind could resist.

Him saying that only makes my heart march faster, my nerves jamming the words currently caught in my throat. “I’m a bit nervous,” I admit quietly.

“You are?”

“Everything’s out in the open now.”

Bristol’s grip never wavers. There’s no doubt or uncertainty christening those handsome features of his. In fact, his confidence silences the discouraging voice in the back of my head.

“I’ve got you, Lils. I’ve got you, and I’m never letting go of you.”

“Yeah?” I ask, rising to my tiptoes because, one, these heels don’t do much for me in the height department, and two, I want to drown myself in that leather and woodsy man musk of his.

He fixes some of the lipstick smeared by the corner of my mouth, his own lips shimmering with pink residue. “I’m dumb, but I’m not dumb enough to make that same mistake again.”

I don’t know if I can hold the tears back this time, and if we don’t partake in some communal drinking soon, I’ll probably look like Samara from The Ring by the time the party’s over. We make our way toward the living room where everyone’s gathered, and this gigantic tower of oversized Jenga blocks sits dauntingly in the middle like a fear-inducing monument. The long, leather couch that can seat at least ten people with no problem is occupied, leaving my designated spot on the cushy, carpeted floor. This is an intimate affair with the Reapers’ immediate family, which thankfully means there’s no paparazzi to be seen.

Multiple side conversations rumble on, and everyone’s attention has been stolen by the adorable baby girl using Kit’s arms as her personal hammock. The environment itself is curated to be entirely baby-friendly, with the low hum of music and warm mood lighting to be as understimulating as possible. Baby Eda—Kit and Faye’s daughter—is dressed from head to toe in a pink onesie that says in large, bejeweled print on the front, DADDY’S FAVORITE. And to top it all off, there’s a matching bow wrapped around her alfalfa curl of hair.

I’m not someone who usually likes children—let alone babies—but she’s the cutest little thing in the entire world. She has Kit’s bronze skin but Faye’s big, round eyes, and the apples of her cheeks puff out in a perpetual smile. She’s on the bigger side because of Kit’s D1-bearing-athlete genes, and she’s currently curling her chubby fists into her father’s shirt.

It's crazy how much everything’s changed. Just a year and a half ago, I met Faye for the first time at a pool party when she was in her sophomore year of college. And now, she’s juggling her senior year and being a full-time mother.

Speaking of futures, I can’t help but wonder if Bristol’s and my children would have his eyes or mine. I’d hope they’d get his charming smile and pageant-winning dimples. I’d even just settle for his brunette head of hair.

I wonder if Summit wanted to be a mother. I wonder if they even discussed the topic of kids. I mean, they were college sweethearts. Of course it was probably brought up in passing. I don’t…I shouldn’t be thinking about that right now.

Bristol sits down in front of me with his legs spread out—every yummy acreage of muscle splayed out for me like an all-you-can-eat buffet—and he pats his lap.

I blink, stupefied. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting for you to sit on my lap,” he replies nonchalantly.

“The floor is carpeted.”

“Uh-huh. But I can bet my legs are a lot comfier. And my girl doesn’t sit on the floor. ”

He definitely wasn’t talking about his “legs.” He is right, obviously. It’s very comfortable…pretty big too.

I snort a little. “Your girl?”

That cute, boyish look he had going on is completely gone now, supplanted by the hottest stare I’ve ever seen, so dark and dominant that I’d fling my panties off if we weren’t surrounded by a room full of people.

“My girl,” he assures, leaning back on his palms. “Or do you need a reminder?”

Oh. My. God.

Inebriated by both the drinks and Bristol’s universal appeal, I waste no time in situating myself on his lap, braiding one arm around his neck to support myself. He nuzzles his nose into my throat as his minty breath plumes against my skin, and he’s one dangerous move away from resuscitating the needy pulse in my cunt.

Did I mention how much I’m loving this new chapter in our story? Like, a lot. A lot, a lot.

I used to attend parties religiously in college. I was the one dragging Aeris along to every frat party on the weekends. I was making friends, talking the night away with strangers, going home with guys who said the right things. And in some ways, I guess that’s how I dealt with my own insecurities of not being liked or wanted. I stretched myself so thin to bury that pain, and all it did was establish empty relationships that failed the moment we all stepped into the real world.

But it’s different now. Parties aren’t an escape. They aren’t something I suffer through anymore. They’re an extension of home, and so are the people sitting around me right now.

I’m about to call for a ceasefire before I turn Bristol’s crotch into a splash zone, but the world throws me a Hail Mary in the nick of time. A curly mane of red hair bobs into the picture— attached to a girl in fishnets, a miniskirt, and an off-the-shoulder crop top—and my entire face lights up.

“Calista?”

The girl immediately shifts her attention, matching my excitement with a squeal as she makes her way over to me.

“Lila? I wasn’t expecting to see you here!” she says, embracing me in a hug that I didn’t know I needed. Although it’s a little awkward while riding—I mean, sitting on—my boyfriend.

She pulls away. “Oh, and you’re on a man! How fun!”

“Hi, Cali,” Bristol greets.

If Cali was drinking anything, she would’ve done a spit take. “Bristol? Why are you—the man you’re sitting on is Bristol?! Oh my God! Are you two…?”

He nods with a proud smile. “Took me a fucking minute, but I finally pulled my head out of my ass and got the girl.”

Got the girl.

Ugh, how does he always know the right thing to say? I mean, he always had that annoying quality about him, but I thought it would eventually go away. APPARENTLY not. He’ll be instilling charm in our maybe babies.

“What are you doing here?” I ask her.

Cali blushes the color of a blood orange in late January, and the reason for her presence comes careening into her at the speed of light, knocking her onto her back like some housebroken golden retriever. Gage—one of Bristol’s teammates and the so-called troublemaker of the group—hovers over her while he peppers kisses on every inch of her face.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he murmurs in between smooches, so head over heels that I don’t need to look in his eyes to confirm the love hearts popping out of them.

She giggles and squirms underneath him. “I was only gone for five minutes!”

“Five minutes too many. I grieved your absence like a widow in mourning.” He collapses on top of her, crushing her with his full body weight and draping a dramatic arm across his forehead.

“I didn’t know you two were together,” I pipe up, unsure if I should give them some space while Gage puts on the most public display of affection I think I’ve ever seen—and that beats out the old couple I saw groping each other in the line for Space Mountain.

“Yep,” Cali wheezes, doing her best to push him off her. “This is the man-child I’m dating.”

Gage lifts his head and momentarily breaks character. “I love the little nicknames she gives me.”

“I’ll give you a bruised nut sack if you don’t get off me!”

“Ooh, kinky. Can I bruise your cervix in return?”

Dear Lord.

“Gage!” she reprimands. “Not appropriate in public!”

“Half the stuff we do isn’t appropriate in public,” he banters.

Bristol’s the first one to bark with laughter, and that rich, brassy rumble streamlines right into my body. I think I could subsist on that sound for the rest of my life—set it as my alarm so that it’s the first thing I hear when I wake up. I may be jinxing things by saying this, but everything feels right . The subtle touches, the not-so-subtle glances. My heart’s in a frenzy, and the drinking game hasn’t even begun yet.

Once Gage rolls off Cali, he finally notices that I’ve been using Bristol as my makeshift chair, and his lips hitch into a puckish grin. “It’s about time you two got together. Ugh, you should have heard him, Lila. He wouldn’t shut up about you. It was always”—Gage imitates a hilariously deep voice—“‘Do you think she still likes me? I miss her so much. I ruined the best thing in my life. Oh, woe is me, whatever will I do? I’m going to die alone with a shriveled-up penis because I’ll never get laid again!’ ”

Bristol deadpans, “I did not say that last part.”

A playful chuckle peals out of me. “The rest is pretty accurate, though.”

“I—ugh, I hate you both,” Bristol grumbles, though the tiny smile on his face belies his allegedly “deep-seated hatred.”

Maybe I’ve caught the love bug, but I can’t stop my own affection from colliding head-on with Bristol’s, my nose tucked against his jawline and my lips parted to savor the expanse of his skin. “You hate me?” I jokingly whisper.

He turns his head so that our noses bump, his mouth only a few centimeters away from staking his claim. “Oh, yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hm.”

“So you don’t want to kiss me right now?” I breathe, relishing in satisfaction when a moan builds in his throat, and I feel his hips adjust accordingly underneath me. He keeps his hands splayed behind him, exerting more control than I think I’ve ever seen.

“So fucking badly, angel,” he whimpers, striking a chord of lust deep within me. “But I won’t be able to stop myself if I do.”

I can feel Gage and Cali staring at us—probably repenting for our sakes while we act out an amateur porno right in front of them—and a whistle disrupts the mindless chatter around us. I break away from the sizzling tension, trying to keep my cool while Bristol’s gone red enough to revoke his man card.

“You four wanna stop screwing each other and get this game started?” Hayes calls from the couch.

Kit gasps and covers baby Eda’s ears with his gargantuan hands. “Hayes! Not in front of the kid!”

“Right. Sorry. Do you four wanna stop…sucking face…and get this game started?”

“That’s even worse!”

“She’s five months old! She can’t understand English! ”

Faye—dwarfed in a shirt decorated with spit-up and liquidized peas—looks like she’s one braincell away from losing her sanity completely. “My bedtime is eight thirty, and it’s already nine. Either someone starts the game now or I’m going home,” she growls.

Fulton—whom I’ve only met a few times before and is by far the quietest person on their team—laughs nervously, immediately springing into action. “I’ll go first! Yeah. No worries at all. Everyone here…has a date. Which makes me like the eleventh wheel, but that’s okay! That’s fine. I’m good. This is great. Yep. Let me just…scoot on over here.”

I feel for the guy. I can’t imagine it’s easy seeing all your teammates in a relationship. Fulton’s a great guy—polite, respectful, shy. There’s no doubt in my mind that his time will come eventually.

Fulton shuffles over to the skyscraper of Jenga blocks, analyzes the best move by circling around the tower, then pokes his tongue against his cheek in concentration. He eventually hunkers down to pull one from the middle, making everyone hold their breath as he wheedles it from its spot. When he raises it up in victory, everyone claps softly to refrain from upsetting baby Eda. She’s pretty much oblivious to everything that’s going on, though. Kit cradles her butt with one arm, holding her upright while she sucks and grabs at his fingers. He’s such a girl dad.

“Alright, this says…” Fulton trails off, his eyes bulging out of their sockets, and he whips around to face Gage. “This says to remove an article of clothing of your choosing?”

Gage shrugs. “I got the Sweet and Spicy version.”

“What am I supposed to remove? I’m only wearing a shirt, pants, and underwear!”

“Please keep your underwear on,” Casen says.

Casen’s another one of Bristol’s teammates, and he has this gruff look about him like he’s some weathered lumberjack with a deep, traumatic backstory that nobody except his wife knows about. I’m guessing. Or he’s a lighthearted guy who comes from a well-mannered family. Josie, his wife, has been with him since high school. I don’t know much about their love story, but they’re always in good spirits whenever I see them.

“Ooh, are we voting? I call shirt. Show us those washboard abs!” Gage wolf whistles, making Cali shake her head.

I’m not sure if this is a constant state for Fulton, but he looks perpetually nervous. Like he’s smuggling coke up his ass and has just been asked to step through an airport body scanner.

“Pants!” Hayes chimes in. “I’ve seen him crush a watermelon with those quads.”

“I definitely didn’t wear enough deodorant for this,” Fulton mumbles under his breath.

Bristol chuckles as he pulls off one of his—yes, good-smelling —socks, tossing it in Fulton’s direction. “Don’t worry, Ful. You can bow out of this one. Just use my sock.”

Fulton’s shoulders sag with relief. “Thanks, Bristol.”

“Anyone can opt out whenever they want. Nothing should happen without their consent,” Casen reminds the group, receiving a collective nod from every participant.

Fulton places his Jenga block back on top with little hesitance, and when he sits down, Kit rises to a stance, carrying baby Eda with him. He holds her out to a row of blocks closer to the top, and aww s permeate the room as she grabs at essentially nothing, causing Kit to help pop out one of the blocks for her. With a few adorable motor failures, she finally hooks her little fingers around it, yanking it out with enough caution to keep the tower intact.

Kit bounces her on his hip, pride beaming across the newly pronounced wrinkles on his face from late nights and early mornings. “Good job, Eds.” His voice goes all high-pitched and doting, and we’re talking about the same guy who, in his playboy days, was allegedly with half the alphabet.

Everyone’s growing up. Aeris and Hayes are engaged, Josie and Casen have been married for one year, Kit and Faye have a baby. My twenties are moving a lot quicker than I expected.

Kit flips the brick over and immediately smiles. “Tell us your favorite thing about the person sitting to the left of you.”

The whole circle looks to Faye, who’s struck speechless and stares at her small family with so much love that it’s tangible. It’s a look that says she’s found her purpose in life; a look that says she’s at peace; a look that I’m constantly striving for myself.

“What do you have to say about Mommy?” Kit asks baby Eda, handing her back the block. All she does is burble out a string of nonsensical gibberish, kicking her feet happily and grabbing fruitlessly at her new toy.

“Mm-hm, I agree. My favorite thing about Mommy is her selflessness. She takes really good care of us. She’s always there to rock you when you can’t fall asleep, to play with you first thing in the morning, even to change your stinky diaper when I insist that it’s my turn to do it. She’s strong and independent and runs our entire operation. She’s the queen of my heart, and I hope that you’ll grow up to be just like her when you’re older.”

Faye’s to the point of tears when Kit hands baby Eda off to her, and he presses a gentle kiss to his girlfriend’s forehead, almost making me want to cry. I glance at Bristol—who’s already staring at me—and he laces our fingers together, squeezing my palm.

Gage encourages Cali to go next, giving her a playful pat on the ass as she stumbles to the mountain looming over us. She tests her luck and picks a block toward the bottom, which has the very real possibility of collapsing the whole thing. When she fishes it out, she’s still riding that Gage high with pink cheeks, and that man’s prowess seriously needs to be studied in a lab because I’ve never seen someone look so hopelessly lovestruck before.

“Partake in a chugging competition with an opponent of your choosing. Whoever wins gets a cash prize from the losing participant.”

She rehomes the block, then beckons Gage with a flirtatious crook of her finger. “You and me. A hundred dollars.”

Everyone breaks out into a chant, goading Gage, and he eventually makes his way over to her with a simper on his face. “You do know you’re going to win, right?”

She takes her black-painted fingernail and hooks it under his chin. “You’re lucky I’m not making it a thousand.”

“Baby, if you wanted a thousand, all you had to do was ask.”

“You’re not getting out of this, Gage.”

Fulton races into the kitchen and pours two sizeable glasses for them, returning to the metaphorical ring with sixteen combined ounces of a clear liquid. He then hands them off to the competitors, and Gage instantly crinkles his nose.

“Jeez, Ful. Is this vodka?” he asks, already looking a bit green.

Fulton sits back down. “Yep! Beat his ass, Cali!”

“Wow. Really feeling the camaraderie here,” Gage grouses.

Cali cracks her neck, fists the damn drink like it’ll have to be pried from her cold, dead body, and stares Gage down with a ferocity that somehow makes me nervous. “Are you scared?”

“Of you? Yes. I thought we established this.”

Hayes sticks his arm out in a referee position. “I want a clean fight, alright? On three, bottoms up. One, two, three!”

Cali’s off like a rocket. She starts chugging that thing without a second thought, and I’ve never been more terrified and equally impressed at the same time. Gage, on the other hand, is off to a rockier start, grimacing before he takes a long pull. There’s vodka dripping from mouths, ambient rallying, happy screams coming from baby Eda, the whole nine yards .

Cali doesn’t come up for air. It’s concerning…and frankly impossible. Either her alcohol tolerance is stellar, or Gage is a well-known lightweight. I could never be in this position. I’d yack after the first few sips. Vodka’s the Devil’s drink, and I stand by that.

Gage gags a few times, to which Faye—in her motherly fashion—shrieks, “Not on the carpet!”

Is this a sport? This should be a sport. I haven’t been this focused on something since my calculus final my junior year of college. It takes Cali a few minutes before she drains the drink completely, leaving Gage in the dust with his glass still half full.

Hayes jumps up from the couch, shaking everyone on it. “We have a winner!”

Cali wipes the back of her hand across her mouth as she bows victoriously. I cheer her on with a proud clap, and Bristol’s jaw practically touches the floor in shock. “Damn. I’m pretty sure Cali could’ve even beaten Hayes with that kind of tolerance.”

Gage sets his glass down in defeat, looking about as pale and sweaty as I do when the period cramps hit, and he hooks his thumb toward the restroom. “Cool. Alright. I’m gonna go puke for the next ten minutes, but if any of y’all play “Gasolina,” I am coming back out here.”

Cali just pats him on the shoulder. “Sure you are, sweetheart.”

She shepherds him off to the bathroom down the hall while Fulton cleans up.

Aeris is up next, and she goes for one of the side pieces, carefully extracting the block. “Have you ever kissed someone of the same sex?” she announces to the group.

Hayes’ eyebrows purse. “Have you?”

Aeris plays coy, shares a devious glance with me, and shrugs one shoulder. “I had my fun in college” is all she divulges .

Oh, she had fun alright. I caught her making out with Stacy Stenook at a party one night, full-on grope session and everything. Nothing really came of it—so I’m not sure if it was a sober decision—but I definitely never let her live it down.

She sets the block back on top and struts over to her fiancé, who’s looking at her in a sensual way that definitely makes me feel like I’m intruding on something. It’s like everyone’s caught the horn bug tonight. I’m surprised nobody’s pants are flying off like this is a Chippendales show.

It also doesn’t help that this game is inherently sexual and the seat I’ve chosen just so happens to be attached to the guy I’m very much attracted to. I don’t know if I’ll last the night with all this temptation around me. Bristol Brenner’s the biggest challenge I’ve ever faced, and the most satisfying reward I’ll ever reap. He’s got me like a puppet on twisted strings—helpless, and completely at his mercy.

Casen takes his turn, successfully inching a block out from the side with dexterous fingers. “Do a body shot off the person to your right,” he reads.

Thankfully, all these dares have matched the current couples up with one another, and Josie’s about to take one hell of a ride to bone town if this goes right. Ugh, I should’ve gotten that block. Now all I can think about is using Bristol as my own personal shot glass.

A few hoots and hollers travel around the room, and even baby Eda—bless her heart—gurgles contently. Casen dashes to the kitchen, wastes no time in retrieving a tequila shot, a lime, and a saltshaker, and sprints all the way back without breaking a sweat.

Josie laughs, shaking the curls that bounce against her shoulders. “I can’t prove it, but you rigged this game.”

“Did I?” Casen presses the lime wedge against his wife’s cherry-red lips, and if I wasn’t so freakishly focused on the scene unraveling before me, I probably wouldn’t have noticed that he murmurs something to her right before he sticks the wedge in.

Am I a terrible person to say that this is turning me on? I mean, for crying out loud, there is a child present! And alcohol. A bunch of alcohol, in my defense.

Josie keeps the rind in her mouth, her eyes raging with insatiable lust. Casen throws his head back and downs his shot, wets the pads of his middle and forefinger, then slowly drags them down the side of her neck. The whole room quietly cheers him on as he pours a bit of salt over the dampened area, licking a titillating stripe from Josie’s collarbone to her jaw. Everyone loses their mind. Bristol shifts on his hips, and I’m basically doing everything I can to keep the dam closed.

Finally, Casen grabs the lime from Josie’s mouth with his teeth and sucks the juice out of it. The whole thing is erotically fascinating. Bristol—the gentleman he’s always been—keeps his head buried in my shoulder, and I can feel him grinning against my skin.

“What?” I ask, giggling.

“Just thinking about how I would’ve done it.”

Pressure stretches through my lower abdomen, shaking my legs even though they’re not in use, and my pussy grows warm at the suggestion. “And how is that?”

The firmness of Bristol’s lap suddenly hardens, his erection fattening behind the zipper of his pants. “I would’ve started with laying you on the ground, and then I would’ve slowly peeled your dress down to your waist, running my fingers up and down that incredible stomach of yours.”

We’re in public. We’re in public. We’re in public.

I exhale to cover up a moan. “And?”

He growls a bit through his teeth, serving me rapture on a silver platter. “Fuck, Lils. And I’d pour the shot straight into your belly button before licking your neck to stick the salt on. ”

WE’RE IN PUBLIC. WE’RE IN PUBLIC. WE’RE IN PUBLIC.

“Keep going,” I beg, crossing my legs.

“Then I’d hover my lips over?—”

“Lila, it’s your turn,” Aeris says to me, pulling me from my orgasmic reverie and throwing me back into reality where all my friends are staring expectantly at me.

I don’t move for a full minute. I will this terrible lighting and the coverage of my dress to hide any evidence that foul play was involved. Bristol, on the other hand, is left to fare with a boner that I’m hoping isn’t as obvious as it felt.

I shuffle over to the tower with a lightheadedness that makes the room tilt, and I go for the easiest block I can find, which is a side piece that doesn’t harbor any inner weight. Once I slide that bad boy out, I flip it over, and then I mentally scream at the death sentence that’s scribbled on the back.

Play Seven Minutes in Heaven with a person of your choosing.