drinks. Jerked his chin for me to follow. We weaved our way through the party, back outside where the others waited.
“Having fun?” Cyndra asked me.
“Sure.” I leaned against the wall.
“You don’t look it.”
Michael draped his arms over her. She leaned back against him.
“That’s his having-fun face,” he told her. “You’ve seen it, right?”
I didn’t know if his words were supposed to mean something. If he was saying he knew we’d had sex, testing her or me to see what we’d do.
I ignored him.
Dwight and T-Man started shoving each other. It got out of hand fast, Dwight tweaking T-Man’s ear and T-Man yelling curses as they grappled.
People from another school shouted as T-Man and Dwight crashed into their group.
Michael took his arms off Cyndra and pushed between T-Man and Dwight, making them stop. “I’ve got a better idea.” He glanced back at me. “Let’s play One Hit.”
Cyndra perched on the wall next to me.
“How do you play?” Dwight cracked his knuckles as he glanced back at me.
“It’s easy,” Michael said. “Two guys stand about this distance apart.” He moved up to Dwight, squaring off. “You plant your feet like this.” He moved his feet into a narrow stance. “And then you each throw a punch. Only to the stomach. One hit each. And you can’t block. Try not to stumble. Don’t move your feet at all.”
T-Man stopped jumping and twitched his head from side to side like he was limbering up. “How do you know who wins?”
Michael smiled. “You’ll know.”
“Yeah, baby.” T-Man laughed.
A cup was pressed into my hand. Cyndra smiled and tipped her own beer up to her lips.
The beer was warm, but I was thirsty, so I didn’t mind.
“I’ll go first. Who wants me?” Michael waggled his eyebrows.
Mike-Lite stepped out. “I’ve got it.”
T-Man and Dwight looked disappointed.
I felt the heat of Cyndra’s leg next to mine. LaShonda whispered into T-Man’s ear. T-Man snickered and glanced at Dwight, like he was going to call him out next.
Mike-Lite and Michael squared off in the middle of the patio. Some girls I didn’t recognize walked by, trying to get to the keg and ignoring us, until Michael took his shirt off.
“Anywhere you wanna go, gorgeous,” one of the girls said, stopping on a dime.
“Taken, bitch. Keep walking,” Cyndra called.
The girl laughed. Her friend pulled her away.
Mike-Lite took his shirt off. They didn’t look like an even match, standing across from each other. Mike-Lite was burly and half a head taller. Michael’s muscles were more defined, but he also clearly weighed less.
I still felt sorry for Mike-Lite.
Michael shrugged. “You wanna go first?”
“Okay.” Mike-Lite dropped a shoulder and drove a fist at Michael’s stomach. The hit sounded like a dull clap. Michael let out a grunt and leaned forward a bit.
Mike-Lite shook out his hand. He looked pleased with himself.
“That looked like it hurt,” Cyndra murmured beside me.
I shook my head. “It was nothing.”
Michael rubbed his stomach, like it actually was sore. He stood up. “Whew. My turn.” Without any other warning, he slammed a fist into Mike-Lite’s stomach.
Mike-Lite doubled over, gasping. He stumbled.
“Woooo!” T-Man shouted.
Michael threw an arm around Mike-Lite. The generous victor.
It wasn’t surprising that Michael knew how to throw a punch, or that he wasn’t afraid to follow it all the way through.
T-Man jumped up and down on the patio. “Who wants me?”
Beast smiled and ambled out. He took off his shirt and looked less like a person than a flesh-colored mountain. T-Man wasn’t daunted in the least.
Beast smiled and took up the stance. T-Man jogged in place, fists up like a boxer warming up. A crowd started to gather, people drifting out from the house, thinking a fight was going to start.
T-Man held out his arms and turned in a circle. Beast popped his knuckles and waved a paw in a you-go-first gesture when T-Man was
“Having fun?” Cyndra asked me.
“Sure.” I leaned against the wall.
“You don’t look it.”
Michael draped his arms over her. She leaned back against him.
“That’s his having-fun face,” he told her. “You’ve seen it, right?”
I didn’t know if his words were supposed to mean something. If he was saying he knew we’d had sex, testing her or me to see what we’d do.
I ignored him.
Dwight and T-Man started shoving each other. It got out of hand fast, Dwight tweaking T-Man’s ear and T-Man yelling curses as they grappled.
People from another school shouted as T-Man and Dwight crashed into their group.
Michael took his arms off Cyndra and pushed between T-Man and Dwight, making them stop. “I’ve got a better idea.” He glanced back at me. “Let’s play One Hit.”
Cyndra perched on the wall next to me.
“How do you play?” Dwight cracked his knuckles as he glanced back at me.
“It’s easy,” Michael said. “Two guys stand about this distance apart.” He moved up to Dwight, squaring off. “You plant your feet like this.” He moved his feet into a narrow stance. “And then you each throw a punch. Only to the stomach. One hit each. And you can’t block. Try not to stumble. Don’t move your feet at all.”
T-Man stopped jumping and twitched his head from side to side like he was limbering up. “How do you know who wins?”
Michael smiled. “You’ll know.”
“Yeah, baby.” T-Man laughed.
A cup was pressed into my hand. Cyndra smiled and tipped her own beer up to her lips.
The beer was warm, but I was thirsty, so I didn’t mind.
“I’ll go first. Who wants me?” Michael waggled his eyebrows.
Mike-Lite stepped out. “I’ve got it.”
T-Man and Dwight looked disappointed.
I felt the heat of Cyndra’s leg next to mine. LaShonda whispered into T-Man’s ear. T-Man snickered and glanced at Dwight, like he was going to call him out next.
Mike-Lite and Michael squared off in the middle of the patio. Some girls I didn’t recognize walked by, trying to get to the keg and ignoring us, until Michael took his shirt off.
“Anywhere you wanna go, gorgeous,” one of the girls said, stopping on a dime.
“Taken, bitch. Keep walking,” Cyndra called.
The girl laughed. Her friend pulled her away.
Mike-Lite took his shirt off. They didn’t look like an even match, standing across from each other. Mike-Lite was burly and half a head taller. Michael’s muscles were more defined, but he also clearly weighed less.
I still felt sorry for Mike-Lite.
Michael shrugged. “You wanna go first?”
“Okay.” Mike-Lite dropped a shoulder and drove a fist at Michael’s stomach. The hit sounded like a dull clap. Michael let out a grunt and leaned forward a bit.
Mike-Lite shook out his hand. He looked pleased with himself.
“That looked like it hurt,” Cyndra murmured beside me.
I shook my head. “It was nothing.”
Michael rubbed his stomach, like it actually was sore. He stood up. “Whew. My turn.” Without any other warning, he slammed a fist into Mike-Lite’s stomach.
Mike-Lite doubled over, gasping. He stumbled.
“Woooo!” T-Man shouted.
Michael threw an arm around Mike-Lite. The generous victor.
It wasn’t surprising that Michael knew how to throw a punch, or that he wasn’t afraid to follow it all the way through.
T-Man jumped up and down on the patio. “Who wants me?”
Beast smiled and ambled out. He took off his shirt and looked less like a person than a flesh-colored mountain. T-Man wasn’t daunted in the least.
Beast smiled and took up the stance. T-Man jogged in place, fists up like a boxer warming up. A crowd started to gather, people drifting out from the house, thinking a fight was going to start.
T-Man held out his arms and turned in a circle. Beast popped his knuckles and waved a paw in a you-go-first gesture when T-Man was
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