April stepped closer, picked up a block, and turned it in her hands. “Okay. If we’re writing on them, we need categories.”
"Yes," Arthur said, already moving toward the coffee table like he'd been activated by the need for direction. "If we're doing that, we need structure."
"Of course we do," Jax murmured, but he was smiling.
April carried the box to the coffee table, setting it down in the center. The men followed like she’d just declared an agenda, closing the distance. Within thirty seconds they were all migrating toward the floor around the table.
Arthur had already claimed a spot and was mentally organizing the game. She could see it happening; the way his eyes tracked the box, the table, the people settling.
"Rules," he said.
"We know how Jenga works," Caleb protested, dropping to sit cross-legged.
"Rules for thewriting," Arthur clarified. "Everyone writes two blocks initially. After each round, everyone writes one more. Categories can rotate."
"That's actually good," Liam admitted, settling beside him.
April opened the box. The blocks tumbled onto the table, smelling like fresh cedar. Dante produced Sharpies and distributed them around the circle.
"Two blocks each," Arthur reminded them. "Write somewhere else if you want privacy. Round one, movement tasks."
"What does that mean?" Caleb asked.
"Tasks involving physical repositioning.”
Caleb grabbed his blocks and a Sharpie, heading for the couch arm. Jax claimed a side table near the wall. Mateo drifted toward the kitchen pass-through. Liam stayed at the table but angled his body so no one could see.
April picked up two blocks, smooth and light in her hands, and a Sharpie. She looked around at eight men scattering to corners of the room with their secrets, their jokes, whatever they were planning to write on small pieces of wood.
Tonight,she reminded herself, even as she stood to find her own corner.Just tonight. Take everything. Remember everything.
Because this—whatever this was—didn't happen to people like her. Not for real. Not past sunrise.
So she’d play the game, and memorize every single moment before the sun came up and turned this back into a story she'd tell herself when she was alone.
They started drifting back one by one.
Caleb returned first, dropping two blocks onto the table with a satisfied grin. Jax followed, setting his down with careful precision. Mateo appeared from the kitchen. Liam from his corner. Arthur had stayed at the table, writing with his usual efficiency.
April came back last, her two blocks feeling heavier than they should. She added them to the growing pile, eighteen blockstotal, each one holding someone's idea of what should happen next.
Jiro gathered all the blocks, mixing them thoroughly before anyone could track which ones were whose.
"I'll build," Arthur said.
The tower rose under his hands, three blocks per level, alternating direction, perfectly stable. When he placed the final blocks on top, he surveyed it like a general assessing fortifications.
“Oldest goes first."
Dante raised an eyebrow but leaned forward, studying the tower. He selected a block from the middle, pulled it smoothly, and read aloud: "Switch seats with the person on your left."
He set the block on top of the tower and looked at Jiro, who was on his left.
They stood, traded places with minimal fuss, and settled back down.
"Efficient," Arthur observed.
Jiro went next, pulled a block: "Everyone shift one space clockwise."
