After reading a letter from someone she has never met, Gemma Moreno is offered a once in a lifetime opportunity that could change her life forever. Torn between accepting an offer she knows she will never be able to repay, Gemma needs to decide if...
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Dom slowly lowers the other side of his headphones with a cocked brow, "Okay, I'll bite. What do you want to play?"
Smiling, I take my water bottle and lay it sideways on the table. "It's something I used to play with Dad."
Dom was only six when our father died, and I know he only has a few memories of him. I am happy I can play this game with him and pass on how amazing of a man he was.
"The rules are pretty simple. Spin the bottle, and when it stops—"
"I am not going up to random people and kissing them," He panics as he waves his hands up in protest.
"Dom!" I laugh loudly. "Do you honestly think Dad would have his daughter go up to strangers and kiss them?"
The horror etched on his face, morphs into curiosity as he rests his folded hands on the table.
"Anyways, you spin the bottle and whoever it lands on you need to come up with a backstory for them."
"Can you give me an example?" He asks as he packs away his Switch.
Placing my hand around the half-filled plastic bottle, I flick my wrist, and it begins to turn smoothly on the table 's hard surface. After a few rotations, it stops on an older gentleman a few rows away.
"Okay, so that guy," I say as I discreetly point to the man to my left, "Is not who he seems. He is an undercover CIA agent. Those glasses he is wearing are a high tech computer that helps him scan the faces of everyone he passes by to see if they are a threat. That cane he has next to him is not to help him walk, but it is to fight off anyone that crosses him."
Dom breaks out in a fit of laughter, "That is absolutely ridiculous. He is like ninety years old."
Shaking my head, I let out a sigh, "I can't help that he is a CIA badass who could whoop both of our asses with his magical cane."
"I think we should get another method of picking victims." Dom grabs the bottle and throws it in the air and the plastic cracks as it lands perfectly on its bottom. "Spin the bottle seems rude."
Curious to know what is going through his mind, I ask, "What do you have in mind?"
Dom reaches for his bag of chips and pulls the packaging open. Placing a chip between his teeth, with a loud crunch, he tilts his head from side to side. "I think it would be more fun if I pick your victims, and you pick mine. Spice it up a bit."
After a few rounds, Dom and I can't contain our fits of giggles. My favorite stories include a family of clowns that are on their way to their next big break in Boston and a woman who is secretly training for American Ninja Warrior and off on an adventure to climb different mountains to improve her grip strength.
Taking a swig from his drink, Dom leans his back against the window and props his legs up on the booth. "Okay, my turn."
His smug grin disturbs me, but I keep my eyes set on his and give him my best poker face. "Bring it on, baby brother."
