Page 115 of Puck You Both

It's sorted. Glass on one side, plastic on the other, labels printed, because handwriting invites lawlessness. I give myself four seconds of mocking him internally, extract an empty Perrier bottle, and carry it back into the living room, aiming the beck at them.

"Floor. Circle. Spin the bottle."

Wall’s eyeroll is almost louder than Patrick’s chuckle.

“And since when do we need that?” Patrick asks.

I stop. "Excuse me?"

"The bottle's job is permission. We can kiss each other whenever we want, last I checked. That is the entire point of us."

"Okay, first of all, devastating that you understand party games on a structural level—"

"He's right," Wall chimes in.

"—second, not kissing spin the bottle. Secret-spilling spin the bottle. It points at you, you hand over one true thing. A real one. From inside the vault."

"No," Patrick says.

"Also no," says Wall.

I raise both hands, then sit between the couch and the coffee table, cross-legged. "I win, two to one."

My non-boyfriends are still not moving. "You lost two to one," Patrick points out.

I don’t like his math. "I have deadline-day veto power."

"You used it on the coffee table."

"Then I get two. Sit down."

Patrick's gaze drops to the bottle in my hand. "I prefer the kissing version."

"You said the kissing version was pointless!"

"It's growing on me."

Under any other circumstances, I'd reward that line by climbing directly into his lap. Tonight I'm running a strict program, and the program requires discipline, and discipline is the worst thing ever invented.

"I cried in front of my coach. There was a pre-positioned tissue box. You're both playing."

"That's blackmail," Wall says.

"It's leverage. Sit."

They come down off the couch and fold themselves around the rug, grumbling, enormous, and mine.

I set the bottle in the center of our circle-slash-triangle.

Wall studies it like a ref reviewing a disputed goal. "Define 'real.'"

"If it costs you nothing, it doesn't count."

He looks at me and squints. "And who rules on that?"

"Me, duh. I invented this game and my rulings are final."

Patrick lifts his beer. "You invented spin the bottle?"