It’s Tuesday.

  In the span of a day and a half, Jesse has called me— excused himself for his behavior during the night at the bar— I have spent a little bit over five hours on BO6, and I have written three other pages of my article.

  When my phone rang, and Jesse’s name popped up (technically, Traitor appeared on the screen), the silent promise I made to myself came back, and before he even got to say a word, I blurted. “Your girlfriend is dead to me.”

  “Alex, come on. We were both completely wasted.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Oh, I realized that. Pretty clearly.”

  “To be honest, I don’t even remember what she told you.”

  “She basically assumed I was dating Andrew.” I purposefully let the silence weigh on the conversation. It didn’t seem to faze him, though. I added, “Which is a crime that would at least deserve a fifteen-year prison sentence.”

  His giggle resonated on the other end. “You have to stop pretending nothing is happening between the two of you. Even with the equivalent of the entire bar’s alcohol in my veins, I could definitely tell.”

  Instead of answering, I activated the speaker on my phone and grabbed my controller back. The sound of the bullets in the game responded for me. “Anyway! She still wanted to apologize. Because she could see that she made you uncomfortable. Isn’t she nice? Do you forgive her?”

  Another kill. “I don’t know. Can I have free drinks at her bar for the rest of my life?”

  He laughed, thought about it for a few seconds. “Hum, maybe at least next time you visit. Are you eviscerating someone right now?”

  “Just playing COD. I forgive you. Don’t make me suffer another night out with this man.” I concluded, with the acknowledgment of Tuesday’s party evidently clear in my head.

  “Right. Well, Claire has gone AWOL since then, anyway.”

  “No shit,” I heartily laughed, the memory of her echoing smack still resonating.

  “Why? Do you know something?”

  “I might have witnessed an interesting scene, yeah.” Five more kills.

  “What?” He asked.

  “Claire wasn’t pleased with his behavior, apparently. Gave him a pretty hard slap in the face.”

  “You’re gloating.”

  “I’m not,” but my smile was wide. “Anyway, she left crying and broke it off with him.”

  “They were not together,” Jesse affirmed, with a tinge of hesitation in his voice.

  “I mean, that’s for sure now.”

  “No, they never dated. Andrew is into men.”

  The words he said to me flashed back into my mind. I haven’t been completely honest with her. Did he forget to mention that the two of them could never happen? They did flirt a little. She did. A lot. And he returned some of her initiatives. Are his preferences a secret? Would that be the reason why Claire felt used? She learned that he pretended to be interested to avoid unwanted attention.

  Then what were the rest of his questions for? About the other men at our table? Was he fishing for information? Can’t recall what my answer was.

  “How do you know?”

  “Tania told me.” Obviously.

  “Explains a lot.” As I checked the clock, the hour yelled at me for staying so long on the game when I promised myself I would continue writing.

  Fifty-five kills and a dozen insults later, I sat in front of my computer, inhaled deeply, and put my fingers on the keyboard.

  When I lifted my head back up, it was already three in the morning.

  One thing led to another, and it’s Tuesday.

  Caroline decided that we should arrive together.

  First of all, because I would probably feel less anxious going in if I’m accompanied. Which is absolutely true. Second of all, because it might instill some jealousy if Taylor happens to watch us as we enter the meeting room.

  Which he does. And it works. Well, at least he’s leering. Now, does he feel jealous? I can’t tell.

  “Hey! Come on in, please,” Emily welcomes us with a warm smile. As she hugs Caroline, her eyes fall over me. “I’m so glad you came, Alex.”

  Her arms are still open. She’s probably expecting the same from me.

  I bend over and hook my arm at her waist, before we both realize what the other is doing.

  Despite not crossing anyone’s gaze, I can imagine their faces right now. I shove the bottle of wine into her hands, putting some distance between us.

  “Uh, thanks…” She mumbles, wandering off like someone who has seen a ghost.

  My eyes swiftly scan the area and notice the bar. I pour myself a glass and turn around to silently observe the rest of the guests. The room is already cramped, but they haven’t moved the enormous round table in the very middle, leaving the majority of it unused. Russel comes to me with a glass in his hand. “You went for the whisky too?”

  “Yes. I like it a bit too much.” I admit.

  He’s one of the oldest of the professors, yet, instead of becoming a cantankerous, unbearably self-sufficient fiftyish-year-old, he developed his field of knowledge with humility and wisdom.

  His little smile is sincere. “It’s my weakness too. I’m happy you decided to join us. It’s been a while since we really talked. Probably—”

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  “In Dr. Felandra’s class.” He nods and takes a sip of his beverage. “How is she?”

  He groans. “Not great. She might have to program a C-section.”

  “She’s at the hospital right now?”

  “It’s been three days. And no dilation. It could put the baby at risk.”

  I watch the liquid swirl inside my cup and reminisce about the birth of Elena. A terrible one, too. Mom had to go through the forceps and the Foley bulb insertion before they chose to do a C-section. It took her months to fully recover. “I truly hope she’ll be okay.”

  “That’s nice of you. I’m supposed to see her tomorrow.”

  “Well, tell her I wish her the best.”

  “Of course, Alex.”

  He pats my shoulder before leaving.

  Emily speaks up. “So! Thank you all for coming to tonight's first party of the year. I usually organize such events for us to mingle and have the opportunity to get to know each other better. And for that, I’ve thought of a quick little game that we could do! Everyone, come take a Bingo grid.”

  A game where I have to talk to others. How great. I take a burning gulp of my whisky and put myself in line to get the paper. Caroline beams not far away from me, and I see Andrew speaking to Taylor nonchalantly. He has already tumbled headfirst in his mission, it seems.

  Sarah’s low and grumpy voice rises behind me. “What an old-fashioned way to mingle. We could have played spin the bottle.”

  “Are you crazy? I’m not kissing Billy. Or even Howard. Can you imagine your lips against Nathan’s?” Sarah giggles, unperturbed. Her friend continues. “Not to mention most of the professors are married.”

  “I know. Still. It would have been funnier.”

  They stop talking as we approach Emily, and we all get a sheet. My eyes fleet away diagonally, and I glimpse at a few of them. Speaks five languages, has already been arrested for theft, practiced sexual activities in their own classroom, went to all of Depeche Mode’s concerts, and many, many more. I’m not even sure what mine is. What could they’ve put in there that represents me?

  Sarah’s voice emerges again. “Holy shit. I didn’t expect that.” Her friend laughs. She adds. “This is going to be hilarious.”

  Emily gathers everyone’s attention one last time. “There will be punishment for the worst two scores! You can start.”

  And everyone engages in conversation. While they all seem to know each other even a little bit, I don’t know where to begin. With whom. Who’s a fan of Depeche Mode? Anyone could have committed theft, although my eyes immediately dart towards Sarah for a reason, and what even is a “numismatist”?

  I put my name over the frame with Dr. Gorgio’s article because Emily couldn’t really know anything else about me. Sarah’s name on the theft frame. Because, what the hell.

  “Hi, Alex?” Nathan approaches me, his awkward smile mirroring mine.

  “That’s me.”

  “Well, I’m asking, but I might already have an idea for yours.”

  “I have absolutely no idea for you,” I admit without an ounce of amusement, yet Nathan laughs.

  “Nothing has caught your eye?”

  “Besides Dr. Gorgio’s papers, but that one is probably mine.”

  “You don’t know yours? I thought it was this one.”

  “Then it’s mine. But what is yours?”

  “I’m not supposed to tell you; you have to guess.”

  “I’m not so good at guessing.”

  “Well, I haven’t stolen anything in my life, and I’m not too much into music.”

  “Do you own a Honda Civic?”

  “I’ve decided to use the bus to avoid contributing to the pollution.”

  After a glance at the proposition again, I choose one. “Then you have to be the one who created a community garden on campus.”

  “Bingo!”

  We both write our names in the corresponding squares, and he leaves after a small wave. If I have to do this with every single person in this room, I would rather fabricate a weapon with whatever I find in the area and terminate my own life.

  Instead of playing, I pour myself a third glass (up until the rim) and station purposefully next to the conversations that I can overhear.

  Andrew often moves in my peripheral view, and he’s been following Taylor since the beginning of the game. Carefully turned towards him, his pencil stuck behind his ear. They seem to laugh and enjoy their time together as they navigate from group to group and gather answers. I stare at my pitiful progress. Only three.

  At some point, I lose track of time. My third glass is down, and the whisky has reached my brain way up there. Until Emily shouts for everyone to hear her properly. “Okay, guys, I’ll be taking the papers now. We’ll know in a few minutes who the two losers are.”

  Five answers. Out of twenty-six. Despite listening to the conversations, my non-sober state prevented me from concentrating. The bottle and the alcohol have been my buoy in this sea of people, and I’m now facing the consequences. This is usually what happens when I attend a party that I don’t want to be a part of.

  Caroline trots to me with a shining grin on her face. “How did you do?”

  “Terribly.”

  “Figured. You talked more with the buffet.” She pinches my cheek, and I slide my hand inside my hair.

  “Did you talk with Taylor?” I ask. Her eyes start glittering.

  “A little. When I had to find his statement.”

  “Tell me it’s the one with the naughty nightclub.”

  She gasps and slaps my arm affectionately. “Alexej! Of course not. It wasn’t easy to talk to him. He’s very shy. But Andrew did a great job helping me. Taylor asked me out.”

  “I’m glad you got what you wanted.”

  Emily interrupts our conversation with a few claps of her hands. She waits for the room to be quiet before giving out the names. “Tonight, we have two people who didn’t play the game appropriately. And to punish them, they’ll be forced to talk to each other for seven minutes straight!”

  Caroline eagerly shouts next to me.

  I’m lost. “What’s going on?”

  “Seven minutes in heaven!” She answers as if it helped me understand. I lift my brow. “You don’t know this game?”

  “Obviously, I don’t.”

  “Two people are chosen to spend seven minutes in a dark space, like a closet or a storage room. Usually to kiss. It’s a teen’s game.”

  “Never heard of it.”

  “What kind of parties did you go to?”

  “Ones that involved me, myself, and I.”

  “Shocking.”

  I giggle uncontrollably because of the alcohol disinhibiting my senses.

  “Our two losers are… Alex and Andrew!”

  Well, that’s no surprise coming from me, but him? What has he done for the whole night? He roamed in the room during the entire game, he spoke with every group, I could see him at every corner, always following—

  Taylor.

  He was glued to Taylor for more than an hour and was so focused on being Caroline’s wingman that he didn’t give the game a single glance.

  I’m summoned close to Emily while I try to hide my sarcastic grin on my face, in vain. “You do seem happy to have lost.” Emily jokes, and the realization of what’s about to happen finally hits.

  I’ll be stuck. In a closet. With Andrew Miller.

  “It’s nervousness. I’m sure there’s another way out of this.”

  “That was the game, Alex.” She insists. But she can’t force me, right? I’m an adult. I did my vaccines. I pay my bills. I don’t mess with anyone.

  “What if I refuse?” I whisper because Andrew’s approaching in the corner of my vision, and I definitely don’t want him to hear me begging.

  She pouts and watches me intently. “That wouldn’t be very funny, don’t you think? Come on. Seven minutes. That’s nothing.”

  That’s everything. That’s an eternity. Especially with Andrew Freaking Miller with me in it. “What about I only go there? Alone? I’m sure I’m the one with the least good answers.”

  “Actually, Andrew has no answers at all. Well, that’s not true. He put only his.”

  “Which one is it?”

  “You should have played the game, young man. Now in the closet! Both of you.” She adds, pointing at the man behind me. I can’t look. I don’t want to see his expression, and I don’t want him to see mine.

  The alcohol is already poking through my brain like large needles.

  All of them watch us at the threshold, and I squeeze between boxes and hangers. They stab my shoulders and back. “See you later!” Emily shouts before closing the door on us.