Twenty Six

This is not a good idea.

If Adam was right about me being responsible for keeping them in line, I think I really am going to lose my job.

“Guys, I think that’s enough for toni–”

“One more,” Ashton interrupts me, his eyes set firmly on Adam. Adam, who’s grinning mockingly. Ashton and Ben have lost three games in a row now. Ben is doing most of the dying, and each time he dies, they both have to drink. Adam and I are yet to drink up our first cans. If we keep on, they’ll both be drinking their fourth.

“If you say so,” Adam says, obviously having no qualms about playing for as long as possible.

“Isaac is right,” Ben says, sliding his phone into his pocket and leaning back on the couch. He shuts his eyes and rests his forearm on his forehead. “We’ll get them another day, Ash.”

“Don’t be a pussy,” Ashton tells his brother.

“I’m pretty sure I’m not the one being a pussy in this situation,” Ben mumbles.

“What?” Ashton demands, his voice on edge.

Oh no. It’s one thing trying to diffuse thin