Stroke of Luck

a stroke of luck

The game went onwards. I watched listlessly as someone had the unfortunate end of things — sucking a toe. I sighed and looked elsewhere, particularly at Max sitting to my three o'clock, handsomely at ease.

It was six of us on our bums forming a circle, and a bottle spinning in our midst barely flicking a knee or two, calling for a reset spin whenever it was forced to a stop.

Our host sat beside me, smiling endlessly, adding forced laughter to keep the liveliness afloat. I rolled my eyes. Betty was a friend only when it suited her. Think Cherry at first glance but with all the privileges that came with being the only child of a man absurdly rich.

She was full of it, and annoyingly nosy.

The only reason I sat in her mansion was thanks to my brother — a plus one as it said on overdone invitation cards that were somewhat aggrevating to look at.

"Phoebe."

"Hm?" I mumbled, unhappy that she got the call on me.

"Confess or Commit." she said, holding a device in her hands, square at the bottom but round at the top pulsing with a white light.

The thing was a sophisticated lie detector, almost toylike, but the real deal. Something only the wealthy could afford.

"Well?" Betty prompted.

I weighed my options. Lying was out of the question because Betty had a look on her, one that said to evaluate my options with care. Now that I thought about it, I was convinced she'd bring up the day we came across each other in a diner somewhere downtown. How could I possibly forget? I had been on break having a lunch when she walked in, saw me, and called me by name while I sat there, stupefied, in my Thunder Girl costume.

She had my identity mistaken for somebody else, something I calmly tried to reassure her of in spite of the panic I had felt inside. She hasn't spoken a word of it since then but my gut was rightfully wary. This was her opportunity to get a glimpse of the cards I kept close to my chest. Too bad I was a step ahead.

"Commit." I said.

"You, Max, four-five," Betty said without hesitation. "and make it as convincing as you possibly can."

The rules were simple. Outright sex and things potentially harmful were off the table. Making out on the other hand was not, regardless if the person you'd be sucking face with was your twin brother.

Max and I shared a look. He rose first. I followed him to a near corner in broad view of everyone. We stared at each other, equally anxious. Forty-five seconds of this seemed cruel even by Betty's standards.

"So..."

"Yeah..."

"Get on with it already ya' freaks!" someone shouted, while others sniggered.

Ever the crowd-pleaser, Max withheld any warning whatsoever and caught me napping with a kiss so abrupt, so unexpected it had me standing there, stunned. A chill climbed up my spine, brief but effective in snapping me out of it. Slow to the uptake but eager to carry my own weight, I cupped his face and kissed him back.

We took the slow approach, thorough and cinematic in a way. Our tongues were involved, my feelings were involved, my heart was so in it that it felt like my chest would burst open at any second.