There was a burst of laughter from the other room and Annie glanced toward the adjoining door to the den. She wondered what they were playing in there. Truth or dare? They sound just like teenagers, she thought, like some feral pack full of adolescent angst. Are we really just one immature game away from that part of ourselves? She smiled wryly, feeling far removed from any sensible adult reality as she watched Rebecca creep back to the middle of the circle to spin the bottle.

A chorus of “woo-hoos!” sang out when the bottleneck found John, Becca’s husband of two years, and they kissed. Annie winced when she saw his tongue slip into her mouth. She looked away, focusing on the red and white streamers hanging above her head. There were red foil hearts with plump cupids pasted in their centers spinning wildly on thread and attached to the ceiling by thumbtacks.

Annie was surprised Chloe had allowed tacks in her ceiling, even for something as important as maintaining the theme of the night-the sound of the bottle spinning on the hardwood floor brought Annie’s focus back to the game.

John’s eyes were glued to the bottle as it slowed. She ducked as if she could avoid it as the bottle stopped, pointing just past her knee to the chubby girl on her left. Thank god. John was crawling toward them, grinning and eyeing Annie’s hemline, while the redhead next to her blushed to match her hair. Rebecca was watching, looking casual, but Annie knew better.

“Hey, I think this is pointing to Anne,” John exclaimed as he drew nearer.

“Look at the angle.”

“This isn’t geometry, John, come on,” Annie hissed at him, keeping her voice low, hoping her sisters couldn’t hear. “Kiss the girl and get it over with already! Looks like she needs it more than I do.” Annie cut her eyes to the redhead’s face, which had flushed a deeper shade. The girl looked down at her lap as if there were something interesting there.