“Not when it’s this group playing,” Richie said, barely able to contain his proud laughter.
“You understand that you’re incriminating yourself, too, right? If you’re saying we as a group have no balls,” Hudson said slowly, exaggerating his hand gestures as if he were trying to explain something to a child. “You’re a part of this group, and you’re admitting to having no balls.”
Richie passed a hand through his beard, his brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of what Hudson had said. “All those things you’re an expert on, I should have known balls was one of them.” Richie high-fived Scott, and they burst into laughter.
“It’s impossible to be condescending to these guys,” Hudson said to Leila. She laughed and took a sip from her beer, giving his shoulder a squeeze.
John went back to explaining. “Well, there’s always the option of balls,” he said, glancing at Scott and Richie to make sure they wouldn’t have another giggling fit, which they did. “There’s the option of anything, really. As long as it’s a fun rule that everyone agrees on, any player can introduce something new. The elements are just there to give us something to lean on.”
“How does someone win?”
“We’re seventeen-year-olds with our own island. We’re already winners,” John said.
Leila laughed again, and Hudson wondered if his friends felt the same way he did at hearing her laugh. If John, at being the one who’d made her laugh, felt the same rush of pride Hudson himself had felt, the same urge to be responsible for her laughter again and again.
“The game usually just kind of dies out when everyone’s drunk,” Hudson said, watching Leila drink from her beer can. It was true what he’d said about not being much of a drinker, but at that particular moment, having a beer with everyone did not sound like the worst thing in the world. He reached for one from the pack that John had set on the table.
“Whoa, what are you doing there?”
“Grabbing a beer.”
John reached across the table and snatched the beer out of his hand. “Of all the nights we play and you never want to drink, you choose the one night before your big interview to join in? Nuh-uh, man. You’re not showing up hungover. Leave the stupid decisions to those two.” He pointed at Scott and Richie, who, for some unfathomable reason, were thumb-wrestling.
“We heard that,” Scott said, not looking away from the battle in front of him.
“You can ref one more time. Tomorrow night, after you’ve kicked that interview’s ass, we can come back here and play another round. We’ll all camp out and crash here. But not tonight.”
“Fine,” Hudson grumbled. “I guess that makes sense.”
Drunkball started with an opening round meant to prepare the players for the game ahead. One player would chug a beer while the other players each rolled one die. They’d add up the rolls until the drinker slammed the beer can upside down on the table; then the next person in line would become the chugger, and they’d repeat. Whoever accumulated the lowest score before his beer was finished would get to choose an element first.
Aside from establishing an order of play and matching up a player with the element he/she would be in charge of making up rules for, the opening round also helped to create an establishing buzz. And it loosened muscles to avoid the risk of strains, sprains, or any other injury that might occur during physical challenges.
As ref, Hudson had the privilege of adding any rule at any time, and he had fun with it, making his friends speak in accents or only be allowed to move via cartwheels. He loved the manifestation of Leila’s enjoyment—how she reached out her hand and gripped his forearm, once pulling herself into his chest and laughing directly over his heart.
“New rule!” Leila shouted, about forty minutes into the game. They were standing near the playset, catching their breath from a physical challenge that involved juggling dice while going through the obstacle course. Her hair was now dry, although her clothes weren’t, her cheeks slightly flushed from the alcohol and the running. “Any time one of you three looks anywhere below my neck, you have to chug the rest of your beer.” She paused for dramatic effect, during which Scott lowered his sight to her breasts and drank happily. “And then Hudson gets to slap you.”
“Bullshit!” Scott said. “I didn’t hear the entire rule.”
John looked to Hudson. “Ref, ruling?”
Richie interjected, “Wait, why does he get to check you out?”
“Because, first of all, he hasn’t been ogling me as if I’m a thirty-second porn clip on the Internet.”
“Are you saying I’ve been doing that?” Richie asked, trying to sound indignant despite compromising his credibility instantly as he snuck a glance.
“Ah! You did it, too. Chug the beer and get slapped by Hudson!” She laughed, then came over to Hudson and grabbed his arm, pulling him toward Richie and Scott. “Secondly,” she added, lining the two of them up and lifting their beers for them so that they’d get to drinking, “I quite like your friend here. In case you hadn’t noticed, when you lot showed up, I was getting ready to show him just how much. So, for interrupting us, he gets to slap you.”
Leila went back to Hudson and took a sip of her beer, stumbling a little. Then she slipped her fingers in between his. “So, ref, what’s your ruling?”
Hudson looked at his friends. Scott and Richie were obediently chugging the rest of the beer in their cans, and John was smiling confidently at Hudson, nodding at him. Leila’s fingers interlaced with his, her thumb rubbing lightly against his. “I’ll allow it.”
Just when he was raising his arm to slap his friends, a noise broke through the trees. They all turned toward it and paused, trying to determine if it had been a figment of their imaginations or maybe just some small animal. Then they heard it again, this time distinct: a voice. John rushed to the shed and shut off the generator. The island fell into darkness again. The five of them held their breath, their eyes adjusting to the dark. Hudson felt Leila step closer to him, her side pressed against his.
Then the beam of a flashlight came shining in through the trees on the far side of the field, opposite from where they’d come in from. No one moved yet. “You think it’s cops?” Richie asked in a whisper.
No one said anything. They held still until another flashlight came on, then another.
“To the boat!” Scott said a little too loudly, and they took off running for the trees, laughing with the thrill of a chase.
Hudson and Leila fell behind during the run. They ran hand in hand, trying to lead each other away from rocks on the ground and low-hanging branches. Hudson wanted to call out to his friends that the boat was a bad idea. But they had gained ground, and he didn’t want to shout, so he tried to pick up the pace. Leila stifled her laughter behind him as she struggled to keep up. Just when he thought that they’d lost sight of the guys, they ran into John.
“We’ll distract them,” John said quietly. “It doesn’t matter if we get caught, but I’m not letting you risk your scholarship by getting arrested for trespassing. You lay low.” Then he ran back through the woods before Hudson could object.
“Shit,” Hudson said, looking around, trying to determine in which direction to go. But before he could decide, Leila pulled on his arm, bringing them both tumbling down onto the ground. He worried that she might have gotten hurt, and he called out her name to see if she was okay. Then he felt her press close to him and put a finger to his mouth.
“Shh. We’ll be safe here.”
HUDSON