Marko nods as he sips the tea. “Decaffeinated black tea. Not bad.”
“It’s kind of hardcore,” Taylor agrees.
Refreshed, we settle in for the last game, a return toMyceliusand the final tea.
“Kool-Aid out of the fancy tea kettle,” Marko announces.
“Kool-Aid?” I ask, not sure I heard right. “As in sugary water?”
“No,” Angie corrects. “Kool-Aid out of the fancy tea kettle.” She looks at Marko. “I love it already.”
“Looks like there’s one strong vote for Kool-Aid developing,” Elliot says.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Angie replies. “Marko, you’re a lovely person, but for all I know, you could be about to serve me warm, no-sugar lime.”
Marko leans forward, pouring into Angie’s cup first. “Cherry grape mix,” he says. “Chilled.”
Angie tips her cup back and takes a drink. “I vote for Kool-Aid out of the fancy tea kettle.”
In the end, I win with votes from both Marko and Elliot. Taylor votes for Angie, Angie for Elliot, and I give Elliot’s flower petals serious consideration, but on his encouragement, I recognize the nettle, giving my point to Taylor.
I’m declared the winner of all the games, including the cooperative ones, and as I chuckle about the absurdity of it, I realize it’s gotten late. I sneak off to do some tidying in thekitchen, pleased to listen while Angie laughs along with Elliot and his friends.
Angie exchanges contact info with Taylor and Marko, making plans to game again. When she’s ready to take off, I indicate that I’m spending the night. After that, Marko and Taylor slip out back, too, giving us some privacy.
Elliot steps behind me at the sink and wraps his arms around my chest, holding me while the faucet sputters.
“That was nice.”
“Yeah, it was.” I turn the water off and face him. “Your friends are easy to like. And they’re your family. I understand that.”
Elliot smiles, pleased. “Are you ready to see my bedroom now?”
“Yes.”
“I put the best of the sheets on for you.”
“Of thereally implies a lot in that sentence.”
Elliot laughs and takes my hand. “You haven’t seemed at all freaked out by the clutter.”
We walk through the house as we talk. “It’s loved,” I say. “I appreciate that.” I clear my throat lightly. “And if we ever lived together, I’m sure you’d appreciate me organizing the mess.”
Elliot laughs. “I’d even do my best to keep it organized myself.”
He throws the door open to his bedroom. There’s a big iron headboard with fake flowers and black ribbon tied to it, and fresh red sheets are on the mattress. Illustrations are tacked all over the walls, his own and other artists’, and there’s eclectic furniture scattered around, little benches and shelves and a bean bag love seat.
I walk over to the bean bag love seat and sit straight down, falling into it. “Exactly how I imagined.”
Elliot grins and crawls on top of me. “Good,” he says, and we kiss and roll around.
The stresses of the world feel a million miles away. The fun evening has left me in a relaxed, happy mood, and all the casual touching has worked up my desire, too.
We make our way to the bed, where I unbutton his jumpsuit. He looks sexy as hell in it, and I appreciate his strength when he works my shirt open.
“Hank,” Elliot says, his hand up under my shirt and against my bare chest.
“I want you to fuck me tonight,” I tell him.
