Or maybe that’s just me.
Before I can say anything, do anything, we’re swept into so many games it’s hard to keep up.
And then Jace claps a hand on my shoulder like he’s just drafted me into war.
“Okay, Trivia time.Nowit’s game night.”
He’s grinning like an idiot. Already wearing a red bandana around his head like it’s a headband of honor and not a napkin he found in the snack table’s utensil basket. I blink.
“What are you…”
“Team Bloodhound,” he says proudly, lifting a clipboard like it’s Excalibur. “Me, you, Gracie, and Dale the handyman. Who apparently has been in training for this since last year’s scandal.”
“There was a scandal?”
“Apparently, Maya knocked over the Scrabble tiles and claimed a triple word score on a word that wasn’t real.” He leans in, lowers his voice. “It was ‘snorgle.’ We can’t let that shit slide. Wehaveto crush them in Trivia.”
I stare at him. “You good, man?”
“No,” he says brightly, already walking toward the trivia corner. “But I will be once we crush Team Moose Drool.”
Which, apparently, is what Josie’s team is called.
Of course it is.
I trail after him, mostly because I’m worried he might physically explode if left unsupervised. He’s bouncing on his heels like a golden retriever at a tennis ball convention, firing off random facts about state capitals and sports I don’t know if anyone has ever heard of.
But none of it registers.
Becauseshe’slooking at me again.
Across the room, Josie’s perched on the edge of a mismatched sofa, knees tucked under her, lip caught between her teeth in concentration as she scribbles something on her team’s whiteboard.
She’s wearing this soft green sweater that looks like it was made from clouds, and every time she brushes her hair back behind her ear, I forget how to breathe.
She catches me staring.
I don’t look away.
Neither does she.
Fire flickers between us, uncertain and electric. She tilts her head, like she’s trying to figure me out all over again. Like maybe she thought she already had.
Spoiler: she hasn’t.
Because I barely understand what I’m doing here either. Not just here in this inn, in this town, in this oversized flannel, but here, standing still for once, wanting something I don’t know how to ask for.
“Dude. Dude.” Jace elbows me hard enough to make my ribs click. “Pay attention. We’re about to win the lightning round.”
He’s got a marker in one hand and the eyes of a man possessed. His usual laid-back, too cool to care attitude? Gone.Obliterated. Replaced by a trivia gremlin who thinks Buzzfeed quizzes are a legitimate training tool.
But despite all the noise, all the shouting, all the strategic overthinking of whether “cummerbund” has two M’s, I can’t focus.
Because Josie just laughed again.
And I’d rather lose every game in this building than miss another second of that sound.
“Knox,” Jace says, nudging me again. “You didn’t even hear the question.”
