Day 11
Another day of mock Olympics.Tournament style play.
Same rules as yesterday. The three losing teams are eliminated after the first round. Which I still think is bullshit but complaining will get me nowhere with this crew.
Claudia is avoiding me like the plague after our last encounter, and Ed barely glances in my direction. They’re both pissed, and they can shove it up their asses.
So the goal is to make it past the first round.
My partner, Callen.
Today’s activity, cornhole aka bean bags.
The best part about today... we can drink while we play, which is good for me considering the only time I’ve ever played cornhole was while drinking. I’m not sure if I could play while sober. I tend to overthink things. A little beverage will help me relax, and they’re serving the same electric blue drink they were yesterday.
The Olympic Torch, they’re calling it.
Probably because it has enough liquor in it you could set it on fire.
We’re each allowed twenty minutes to practice before the games begin. Callen hits the mark over and over again, the bean bag gliding up the wood platform and directly into the hole. Me on the other hand... I’m not even hitting the platform. My bags are coming up short every single time.
“Your aim is good, you just need to toss it a little harder,” he encourages.
Easy for him to say. He makes it look effortless.
“I think I need another drink,” I say as we gather our things and let Milo and Courtney take our place to practice.
“Haven’t you had two already?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at me.
“Yes, but the more I drink, the better I play.”
“You’re telling me that if I get you shitfaced, we’ll win?”
Laughing, I toss the bags on the table and sit with my back resting against it so I can watch our competition practice. “Something like that. The last time I played this game was at a cookout in college. I barely remember that afternoon I was so drunk, but I do remember winning. At least, I think I did. I remember celebrating like I won.”
The memory comes rushing back to me. Wren wrapping his arms around me and twirling me as I pumped my fist in the air, the red liquid in my plastic cup sloshing over the side and down the back of his shirt. He didn’t seem to care, or he didn’t notice.
His parents were hosting their annual end of summer celebration. Naomi and I had been there for hours, feasting on the catered food, drinking, and playing games. We’d already kicked ass at bocce ball and ladder ball. Wren claimed it was unfair for us to team up again, so he claimed me as his partner for cornhole.
It didn’t matter. Naomi and I were on fire. For every shot I made, she made one too. If it hadn’t been for one of Wren’s coworker’s lack of ability, the game could have gone the other way. He missed his last five tosses, handing us the victory.
Naomi was irritated but almost as drunk as I was, so aside from jutting out her hip and glaring at us in annoyance while we celebrated, she still had fun. Well, until Wren and his coworker decided to toss us in the pool. Fully clothed.
That night, I sat wrapped in Wren’s arms as we watched fireworks explode above us. He told me about the job his father was going to offer me after I graduated. I still had eight months until graduation, and I couldn’t have been more excited. It was also the night he asked me to move in with him. He’d just bought his first house, and although it was farther away from campus, I happily accepted his invitation.
If I knew then what I know now, I never would have done it. Not because he cheated, but because of the person he became when we lived together. He was controlling and suspicious of my every move. At first, it was no big deal. I figured it was just common courtesy to let him know since we lived together. After a while, it became apparent he didn’t trust me.
Which was bullshit considering I’d never given him a reason not to.
And then I caught him cheating. The pieces fell together quickly after that. Wanting to know where I was going, who I was with, and when I’d be home... so he wouldn’t get caught. Not trusting me and interrogating me about every little detail... that was him trying to turn the tables on me. So I wouldn’t think he was cheating. So I wouldn’t get suspicious.
It worked because I was blind to the whole ordeal. The idea of him cheating on me never crossed my mind. Why would it? He’d never given me a reason to suspect. He always showed me affection, told me he loved me. We were planning our future. If there were any surprises ahead for us, I would have thought it would be our engagement.
Then, after he did propose, I was so excited and it felt so natural for that to be our next step, I didn’t give it a second thought. Looking back now, I’m glad we planned a long engagement. Turns out, I had no idea who I was dating. Marrying him would have been a big mistake.
“Do you always space out like this?” Callen asks, nudging me.
“Yup,” I reply, popping the P for emphasis as I take a drink, enjoying the burn as I swallow.