Then, Carolina does something I never thought I’d see. She swats the drink out of his hand and onto the floor. Nearby classmates gasp in disbelief. The room goes quiet.
Carolina steps closer to Douchebag Dash. “I already fucking told you. I don’t want any drinks or anything, for that matter, from you. I’m not sure what you’re doing at this reunion. But, I’m going to need you to take two giant steps back before I junk punch you.”
I believe her. Carolina and her sisters are absolute kick-ass women. When you add in the influence from her brother Luke and sister-in-law Wysdom, I hadno doubtshe would flatten thisDalekwith one punch.
He wisely steps back and holds up a hand. “Jesus, Lina. I was just trying to be social, for old times sake.”
“Your idea of ‘social’ is criminal, you jackwagon,” Carolina points at him. “Now, for the last time, get the fuck out of my face.”
Douchebag Dash shrugs and tries to laugh it off as he turns back to the bar for another drink.
I sidle over to Carolina and wrap my arm around her waist. “You okay?”
She leans into me, and I can feel her heart racing. “No big whoop.”
I turn to get a good look at her. She does not look okay.
We’re interrupted by Mara ringing a bell and telling us dinner is served.
???
Fortunately for Douchebag Dash, he is not sitting at our table. The lovely Yukiko and Lily Matsutani join us instead. The conversation is lively between Carolina and her old friend as they talk about high school pranks and good times.
The noise level in the ballroom is deafening, which is why it takes Mara a few tries to get everyone’s attention.
“Good evening, class of ’92! Isn’t that weird? ’92? It feels like yesterday, but here we are, thirty years later,” Mara pauses for laughter to die down around the room. “I want to welcome you all to the reunion and tell you about this weekend’s competition.”
“I’m so excited,” Lily whispers to me. “Yuki and I haven’t had a weekend of peace and quiet since the kids were born. Even if we don’t win the contest, we’re still winners!”
“Tell me about it,” I nod to her.
“In a few minutes, we’ll pass out the first clue for your team scavenger hunt,” Mara continues from the podium up front. “If you are here with a plus one, that’s your teammate. If not, we’ll assign you a partner. The scavenger hunt begins at nine tomorrow morning and continues until five p.m., whether you’re done with your clues or not.”
Carolina snorts beside me. I throw my arm across the back of her chair, wanting to be closer to her but not sure where we stand after that sizzling hot kiss in the penthouse.
“You’ll be judged on your ability to follow the clues and also,” Mara pauses for dramatic effect. “Execute the dares.”
“Dares!” Carolina sits up in her seat. “Say what now?”
Similar responses are heard around the room.
Mara holds up a hand. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing that will be bad if it ends up on social media. These are more like challenges to make sure you understand your scavenger hunt clue. You’ll see. Meanwhile, Friday is spirit day at The Rays game. We’re looking forourschool spirit that compliments the Rays. Then on Saturday night is the karaoke competition.”
Mara explains the rules and judging criteria. Then, she announces a reunion video before she sits down at her table. Carolina grips my thigh under the table. At first, I thought she was excited about the contest. It appears my Imaginary Fiancée has a bit of a competitive streak. But I follow her eye daggers to Mara, who’s cuddled up to Douchebag Dash.
“Holy shitballs.”
“You didn’t know they were together?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “He didn’t even go to school with us.”
I frown. “Then, how did you meet him?”
“Abigail Wilke introduced us,” Carolina sighs. “Her boyfriend was a wrestler for our high school. Dash wrestled for a rival school. They all met at a competition and became friends. I met him at a party.”
I was about to ask what she ever saw in that douchebag when the lights dim and the video starts. Conversation quiets as photos from high school events flash on the screen to some good old 90s music. There are football games, homecoming dances, spirit rallies, big hair, and lots of flannel.
It makes me a tiny bit jealous. I skipped so many grades that I went to high school at the age of twelve. Not exactly a great combination for getting invited to keggers or being crowned Homecoming King. If it weren’t for my sister, I probably would have spent most of my high school career stuffed into a locker.
