Josh and Hazel's Guide to Not Dating - Christina Lauren Page 0,29
my PCL two winters ago,” he continues, “and Josh got me back on the field in time for spring training.”
The conversation slows when our waitress returns. Hazel’s drink is a literal fishbowl filled with some kind of blue alcohol and gummy fish. When Adam and Cali’s attention is drawn by a loud crash behind us, Hazel mimes that it’s my job to make sure her shirt stays on.
We dig into our appetizers just as a middle-aged guy in a blazer and jeans—our emcee for the night—steps out on the stage.
“Hello, everyone!” he shouts, to surprisingly lively applause. “Some of you may recognize me from Channel Four Weekend News. My name is Richard Stroker, and I am your host for tonight’s game.”
“Richard Stroker?” Hazel gapes at me from over the top of her drink. “His name is Dick Stroker? I knew tonight was going to be awesome.”
Adam blinks at her side, confused. “I don’t get it.”
There are about a hundred unsaid things in the look she gives me before she returns her attention to Dick.
“We’ll play seven rounds tonight,” Dick says. “Pop culture, music, math and science, world history, sports”—Adam does a little fist pump here—“wildlife, and grammar.” A collective boo moves through the crowd at the last one, but he continues. “You’ll notice several large television sets around the bar—courtesy of Bob’s Sports, thank you, Bob—where the questions will be displayed. Everyone should have seven scorecards, each one labeled with its respective category. We’ll score each category individually and then tally them for a cumulative winner at the end. Who wants to know what we’re playing for?”
I laugh when Hazel’s arm is the first to shoot up.
“Third place will receive a set of new steak knives from Kizer. Kizer: Because Chinese knives can be awesome, too. Our second-place team will win a year’s subscription to Omaha Steaks, valued at over three hundred dollars.” The room fills with the collective ring of ooohs and ahhhs. “Our last prize is the big one, folks. Because all the proceeds of tonight’s game go to the Children’s Cancer Fund, Budget Cruises has generously donated a three-day Pacific Coast cruise!”
While Cali and Adam are listening to the rules, Hazel leans across the table. “You have to be on my team.”
“In case you haven’t noticed,” I remind her, “we’re supposed to be on dates. With other people. Play with Adam.” I straighten, but she reaches out, grabbing my shirt.
“I want that cruise, Josh, and you’re smarter.”
“Why do you think I’m smarter?”
“I saw Adam flexing in the windows outside the car. Call it a hunch.”
“Hazel, a normal cruise is bad enough. You really want an all-you-can-eat buffet on a budget cruise?”
“It’s free.”
“Diarrhea is never free.”
She drops back in her chair and I know I’m going to regret this.
“Fine,” I say. “But you owe me. Next time we do this, I pick what we do.”
She immediately perks up. “Next time?”
I quickly clarify. God, it’s been two seconds and she already looks smug. “If we do this again. Look, I can admit it’s been good to get out of the house. I was spending too much time at home and—”
“—wallowing.”
“No.”
“Playing with yourself because nobody else wants to?”
I give her a warning look. “It’s possible you were right—about the wallowing.”
“Possibly,” she says with a small smile.
“Plus—and I can’t believe I’m saying this—I just really like to win.”
“I knew it! I knew you were as competitive as me.” She points to my stomach. “I mean, a person doesn’t get abs like that without a lot of drive—”
“Everything okay?” Adam asks.
“Of course!” Hazel leans closer, reaching for his arm and lowering her voice, but I can still hear her. We can all still hear her. “Hey, would it be okay if I was on Josh’s team? He’s not very good at this kind of thing and I don’t want him to feel bad. Shaky confidence, you know.”
“I’m right here,” I deadpan.
“Of course,” Cali volunteers with a sympathetic nod. “Adam and I can team up!”
With that settled, a grinning Hazel hands out the cards. By the time I get mine, she’s already written our team name across the top: Stephen Hawking’s School of Religion.
The first round is pop culture, and at the opening question—The character Jar Jar Binks first appeared in which Star Wars movie?—she immediately scribbles down the correct answer.
The questions fly out, and by round five, we’ve somehow managed to get all of them right.
“Wow,” Cali says, looking across the table to our total, and then frowning down at their own.