Beer PongMature

As I followed her through the door, I looked back at Rob. He averted his gaze, and quickly.

The beer pong table wasn't really a table. It was a long plank of wood suspended between two bar stools. The people across from me and Bette were ones I didn't know, and they were impatient to play. The game went on for a few turns, me and Bette playing in silence, and on most of my shots I put a little too much force behind them. On purpose, of course.

"You suck at this," Bette said flatly, downing her fourth cup. I'd already had my fourth just before her.

"It's just a game," I told her.

"Some people are really into it."

"Some people?"

"Like me. I like winning."

“Winning's overrated,” I argued. “It's about the game itself. As long as you're having fun, why should it matter?”

The ball came our way. Bette snagged it, threw too hard, and it smacked hollowly into the chest of a player across from us.

“Don't argue with me boy!” she shouted. She was messing with me, I knew, but I couldn't bring myself to laugh convincingly. She'd just yelled into my ear, after all.

She sighed. "So you've known Rob for how long now?"

"Four years," I said. The ball came back our way, and I scooped it off the table. "I worked with him at the restaurant for awhile."

"I know, I used to eat there."

I threw the ball, and it disappeared neatly into a cup. I scowled at it. "I thought you looked familiar."

"He talks about you a lot," Bette said. The words came out strangled.

The other team made it into our last two cups, and we gulped down the beer.

"I think I'm going to be sick," she said.

I remembered that it wasn't her first game that night, and I knew she didn't have much meat on her to stand as a cushion. I don't know why, but I followed her into the restroom as she staggered in, and I shut the door behind us. She knelt by the toilet, face pale, white-knuckling the bowl. I reached over and tucked her hair behind her her ear.

She gave me a sideways glance. "What are you doing in here?"

The End

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