Page 21 of Hard to Lose

“Sure.” I link my fingers with his as we start walking toward the main drag. “Is there a high school game tonight or is this town always this busy?”

“You’ll see for yourself in just a second,” he says cryptically.

It takes everything I have not to pepper him with a million questions about where we’re headed and what we’re doing. The upside to that is my silence forces me to observe, to notice: the excitement of the kids running past us; how almost everyone who passes us on the sidewalk says hi; the warmth of Gunner’s hand against mine; the blue of the horizon.

And when we turn the corner to where it seems everyone is heading, my feet stop.

The main drag has been closed to all traffic, because one of the longest tables I’ve ever seen spans for at least a few blocks down the middle of it. There are chairs set up on either side, what looks like a two-foot divider that runs the length of the table, and matching boxes are at each seat. Hanging in a zigzag line from one side of the street to the other and back are strings of lights providing a soft yellow glow. There are vendors on the sidewalks—food and wares and what appears to be kegs of all things.

“What in the world . . .” I ask but then look to where Gunner is pointing. The sign above our head reads “Lager and LEGO.”

“You ready to play?”

“Play?” I laugh the word out, equally confused and intrigued. “What are you talking about?”

He looks at me with a twinkle in his eyes. “I warned you Destiny Falls was a town of festivals so be ready to experience your first one.” He steps in front of me and holds his hands out to his sides. “This is Lager and LEGO, where the gist of the game is this: we all start out with the same pieces. Along with that box of LEGO bricks, we each get a cup of lager—aka beer. After drawing random numbers, we sit down in those assigned seats, and face off in a timed round against the person sitting opposite us.”

“So it’s a competition?” This is absolutely crazy.

“It is.”

“You just build anything?”

“No.” He shakes his head and waves at someone who calls his name. “Each round has a topic to guide you, but you can use that topic and be as creative as you want.”

“And at the end of your time when the bell or dinger or whatever rings, do you have to have both your beer drunk and your structure built?”

“Structure only, but the cups are tiny for those who want to finish it with each round.”

Gunner stands in the pale-yellow light, as the night darkens around us, with the softest of smiles on his handsome face and makes me want . . . so many things, but none of which I can put my finger on.

“Who thinks up this shit?” I laugh.

“Us bartenders at FU-Bar might have had a hand in helping devise this one.”

“You’re serious?”

“I am,” he says with a definitive nod.

“But if it’s bricks and beer—”

“Haha. I see what you did there.” He points his finger at me and grins.

“—why are there so many kids here, since they won’t be chugging beer?”

“Because they are the judges.” He lifts his brows as I startle.

“The judges?” I look around at all the kids standing on the curbs. Some have treats in hand, others clipboards, but all have excited smiles on their faces.

“Yep. After each lightning round, the builders—us—step back from our tables, and they step forward to judge the best structure out of the two at that particular table. Whoever they pick moves on to the next round.”

“And to the next beer?” I tease.

“Exactly.”

“Oh my God.” I stare at the length of the table again. “There must be a million rounds. The people at the end must be—”

“I told you they’re tiny cups of beer.”