Once we’re linked, we nonchalantly make our way over to the line, passing my security guard – who is doing his best to be inconspicuous as he drinks what I know is not a virgin Mai Tai – and the one she shares with her brother – who is currently doing what he was doing last night when he ditched Bryn except with a Puerto Rican Cardassian instead.
“Your twin’s really…making his way around…the convention, huh?” I mirthfully inquire upon our arrival behind another couple.
You know.
A real couple.
The thing she’s made very clear we’re not despite how much I mentally wish we were.
“He’s really into the whole chicks digging him because he’s a hot nerd versus a stupid rich NBA player.”
“I get it,” thoughtlessly escapes on a small shrug. “I like that feeling too.” Her curious gaze gradually shifts over to me. “I like that you’re into nerdy me rather than board member of a billion-dollar enterprise me.”
“I get the impression I’d be into him too,” she flirts at the same time she curls her frame against me even tighter.
This time it’s me that blushes.
Briefly drops my stare to my navy and white boat shoes.
These have thin brown laces instead of tassels; although, Bryn did call them g-strings.
Pretty sure she is incapable of not insulting my wardrobe.
“From what I’ve seen,” Nae begins again, recollecting my attention, “the activity is basically like paintball but with water guns instead. The point is to stay as dry as possible. Whichever team has the dryer team wins.”
“Sounds simple enough.”
“Ever been paintballing?”
“No.” We inch forward in the line. “You?”
“Champ.”
“Whaaaatttttt?!” I airily chuckle out.
“Twins…means twin birthday parties…”
“Of course.”
“So, to keep things balanced, Gammie had us take turns choosing the activity from year to year. Jer always chose paintballing…even now.” The corner of her lip kicks up towards the crystal blue sky. “And for the service record? There’s nothing more fucking hilarious than watching NBA, NFL,andNHL players whine about being taken out during a sesh by a dancer/cheerleader.”
Laughter shakes my entire frame to the point that even my head snaps backwards. “You are a force to be flown with, aren’t you?”
“Absolutely.”
“Alright,” amusement gets dialed down a notch to ask, “what is one thing you’venevergotten to do for your birthday but want to?”
“Paragliding along a Doctenn beach.”
“Wow,” is quickly thrown back into the conversation, “you’veclearlythought about that more than once.”
“Every year since I was nineteen.”
“Why haven’t you?”
“Athletes – which includes dancers – aretypicallycontractually not permitted to do high risk activities that could result in career delaying injuries.”
Nodding my head is accompanied by us moving forward again. “Meaning we can go now that you’re retired.”
