Ironically, the first card I drew was for 'water on the knee.' I shared a glance with Ryder for just a millisecond and decided that the easiest thing to do was to just use the tweezers to extract the plastic pale as fast as I could before he asked whatever dumb question he had that had to do with either water or knees. I mean, they had to be lame, right?

I was banking the fact that he would refrain from asking anything and I was centimeters from the metal surrounding the opening when he asked: "Has anyone ever made you weak in the knees?"

I immediately dropped the pale and felt the vibrations and heard the buzzing of the game. I glared up at a smiling Ryder, partially because of the loud noise but mostly for the question.

"Really?" I asked unbelievably. He shrugged and added a hand to his chest.

"If I have, feel free to tell me," he said in regards to his question. I rolled my eyes and scoffed, leaning back against the couch completely disgusted. He put his hand on my knee and I slid it off. His smile dropped immediately. "I was kidding."

"Mm, I bet," I lied. He leaned over to kiss my cheek and I leaned away from him. The look he gave me was completely heartbreaking so he slowly pulled away.

"I was just trying to put myself in a better position to win. I apologize," he whispered meaningfully. The thing was, as personal and inappropriate as his question was, I wasn't truly mad. I was irritated because I was supposed to be, not because I actually was. And now it seemed silly.

"Well maybe I figure that when you lose, I'll be the one double winning after seeing you strip each time," I tried to joke back. He forged a fake laugh but otherwise kept his gaze away from mine. I reached over and pecked his cheek and thought: Take your turn.

As if it was time for revenge, he drew the funny bone card. It was perfect for the moment that was plagued with uncertainty.

"What's one of the funniest memories you have?" I asked him. He tried to suppress a laugh and after he swiftly and easily pulled out the plastic bone, he looked up at me.

"Probably in middle school when I was just starting to become friends with Rod," he answered.

"Why do you call him that, by the way?" I asked.

"That's what's funny," he assured. "Well, if you hadn't noticed, his hair is a little...wild. Well, back in middle school, we were science partners and he would always question every little theory or experiment." He was smiling to himself, now. "One day, we had a project with electricity and he was still strung out on his whole 'Benjamin Franklin couldn't have just held a kite with a key'-conspiracy phase and well, let's just say Stella and I rigged a certain experiment and from then on, people have called him 'Rod' since his hair looks like he got fried in a lightning storm holding a metal rod."

I laughed along and took my turn and the tension from before was erased. We continued to play operation asking questions like favorite ice cream (Brain Freeze), favorite food (Bread Basket) or things like favorite books (Writer's Cramp) or to do the best animal impression (Charlie Horse). The deepest we've gotten is what I would save if I could only take one thing in the world for myself (for Spare Rib). It's as if the game was reserving the deeper extractions for the end on purpose. Things like broken heart and butterflies in stomach, and the wish bone.

Finally, I drew the broken heart card and I had a pretty good idea what he might ask.

"Have you ever had your heart broken?" he asked and I dropped the purposely cracked heart on purpose and slightly touched the metal. After the buzzer sounded I looked up at him, calmly.

"Just a few times," I answered. His eyes darkened. "None romantically, though." He still said nothing. "Your turn."

Somehow, he had drawn the option to steal the heart surgery from me and I was grateful. Maybe the universe was working in our favor. Or rather mine at the moment. Unlike before, Ryder was taking his time picking out the small heart, even though any other piece had taken him a second or shorter (which explained why he had so much more money than me, probably). It was like he was waiting for me to question him.

"Who broke your heart?" I asked him, trying to study his initial reaction. He successfully pulled out the heart and planned to grab his correct amount of fake money while pursing his lips. I didn't want to demand him to answer the question, but I wanted to know what it was more than anything at this point.

Take your turn, he told me through my mind. I began to draw my card while replying: That isn't an answer, and then I got "Butterflies in the Stomach." I thought it was relatively easy to pull out the tiny butterfly, but I felt that same condition as the task while he watched me closely.

"What makes you nervous?" he asked simply.

"On what kind of scale?"

"Top five nerve-wracking things."

"Umm..." I thought. "Meeting people who have heard about me before because I don't know their standards of me...the moment between "set" and a gunshot at a track meet before I run...pretty much anything to do with college...talking about my family...and..." I didn't want to finish, but he pressed me with his eyes. "You."

His entire demeanor weakened when I said that which became shocking to me because I would've assumed he already knew that he made me nervous. At least they were good nerves, though. But after he didn't say anything, he didn't make the situation any better.

"I'm just glad being naked wasn't on that list because you're going to be stripping in a couple turns."

I glared at him as he drew his card. I wanted to know why Ryder had to put up this hormone-driven wall to distract from real conversation. I mean, I knew he had a competitive edge, but that's not what this was about. He chose the final card—a wishbone—and even though I knew very well that I was going to lose to his nimble surgery skill, I had one question.

"If you got one wish in the world, what would it be?"

"I—"

"And it can't involve me," I added and he only smirked and thought Good call on that one. But after a second, the grin depleted and he got serious.

"I would wish to get my alpha title taken back from whoever gave it to me."

His response was another that I'd add to my "Ask Ryder Later"-list because before I could wonder for a clarification, he was putting all the pieces into the box and starting to clean up because he was a clear winner. I took the liberty to put one sandal to the side and sarcastically smile up at him as he grabbed a new game. I quickly registered that I had to win fast.

The next game was his pick: Connect Four. Let's just say, even after allowing me to go first, he won quickly. He even tried to be nice and said the overall score of the game would be determined two out of three games...He still won. My other sandal joined its pair in the corner while Ryder joked that finally the games would start.

The next game I picked was Battleship. I figured that Connect Four was successful for him because he was simply proactive. He played a good offense especially when he could see the board, but he didn't know how well or poor he'd do trying to set fire to all my battleship pieces converted. Not to mention I was a good guesser...Well, I thought that until I played him.

"There is a much more fun way to play this game," Ryder commented as he posed to be focused on his own side of the board. "A7."

"Crap," I hissed, causing him to smile and place a red piece on his board as a hit and sink. He had one more peg of the last boat of mine left. "And how would that game go?...B2."

"Miss," he replied to my coordinate and I rolled my eyes. Then he looked up at me. "I don't know the exact rules, but I can guarantee there'd be some kissing in the right places." That lower body discomfort came back as if signaling that I was attracted to that, but my face tried to form disgust. Especially when he called out the final appendage to my last ship. I threw myself backwards onto the carpet as he clapped once and laughed.

"Cheater."

"Sore loser," he laughed as he took apart the boards. He got up and I glared daggers at his back.

"It's not fair," I said, removing my cardigan that left me in a tank top and shorts. "You can read my mind."

"Not now, I'm not," he denied as he turned back around. He noticed the cardigan off of me but didn't struggle to keep his eyes connected with mine. "Not that I don't have a reason to..."

I threw the nearest pillow at him and even though he caught it, he still laughed.

"Babe, why would you chose Battleship of all games to challenge me to?" he chuckled. He just wanted me to elevate his ego even more. "I'm an alpha werewolf. I think I know a little something about strategy."

"Battleship isn't very strategic; you just guess!" I reasoned.

"No you just guessed," he corrected, pointing at me. "That's probably why you lost."

I simply glared and he still smiled brilliantly as if his perfect smile could solve the largest of problems.

"Here, I'll let you chose the next game since three losses in a row must suck," he tried to be nice but it was nothing more than a tease. I threw the next closest pillow at me and he barely deflected it and it barely missed hitting the TV with a readily awaiting Xbox. I smiled when I looked at the shelf.

"You. Me. Just Dance."

***

"I should not have let you pick Just Dance," Ryder groaned in a pair of shorts and a muscle shirt that was about to be stripped off. I smiled.

"Don't blame your losses on me," I laughed. "Not my fault you suck at dancing."

"I don't suck at dancing," he denied. "I suck at following. I'm not meant to follow."

"You were good at following up your loss with another," I laughed with two meanings.

"Whatever." He lost a dance battle not only once, but twice, and on top of that, the following card game—War—was another loss for him. However, he hadn't stripped yet, but he sighed stressfully while we simultaneously rolled our heads over to look at each other. Strip, I thought and he rolled his eyes.

He easily pulled the muscle shirt over his head to reveal a contracted muscular body that I tried to avoid looking at. After all, this was a temptation game. And Ryder knew it. That's why he was smiling so sexily at me even if he was mocking. And it slowly faded away as redness covered my cheeks.

"I think it's cute," he muttered.

"What?"

"The butterflies in your stomach at the moment," he commented quickly as he got up. "It's okay; you can stare at my ass while I walk off..."

"Don't flatter yourself," I chimed while his back was turned to me as he approached the counter and rested his eyes on me.

"Fine," he winked. Cutie, he added as somewhat of an insult in my mind. "Pick a game."

"Which one do you suck at?" I asked.

"Checkers," he shrugged and I stupidly took his word for it and lost quickly. I groaned and then removed my shirt quickly and before I could attempt to cover myself with the nearest piece of furniture, I noticed his eyes on me as if in a trance. It was a look that was debatable when you saw a boy look at a girl that way. Of course, anyone could get offended by his perception of my body, but at the same time, he was frozen from taking me in. I couldn't exactly be mad for that.

"You're beautiful," he commented with his eyes connected to mine. As if he was embarrassed, he hesitantly looked down with a small nod. It's as if he felt like he wasn't good enough or something, and that was odd for an arrogant guy like him.

"Okay choose carefully; one more loss and I win," I told him to change the subject.

"One?" he questioned. "How do you figure?"

"Um, you're in a pair of shorts," I laughed. "Which makes you at a disadvantage."

"Um, I still have underwear I can strip out of," he reminded.

"Just pick a game, Ramon," I ordered, blushing.

"Ooh, was that a bit of hostility?" he asked as he slid the game of Life off the counter. "That's usually a sign of losing."

"Whatever," I replied with a fake smile. He set up the board and I grabbed the yellow plastic car for my own and prepared for battle since Ryder declared this to be "Winner Take All."

***

I woke up on the couch in complete darkness. It took me a second to realize I was in my bra and shorts on a couch with a blanket thrown on me. I remembered that I fell asleep during our game, but I guess the buffoon sleeping on the floor besides an unfinished game of Life accounted for my positioning. I smiled at the memories I had before I passed out.

We had talked about what careers we would want, or what house we preferred to live in or anything that came up in Life aside from marriage and children, basically. It was fun while being a learning experience for us both. I sat up and let my feet dangle off the couch. I looked down at a half-naked, sleeping Ryder who was face down with one arm folded as a pillow, and he lightly snored. I tried not to laugh as I picked up my tank top from the corner and noticed the time flashing on the TV: 6:32 am.

Suddenly, I heard a vibration and looked over at the counter. I walked over and noticed that my phone had been put on a charger while Ryder's lit up even though there was a flash of a red battery. I unplugged mine without looking at the probable missed messages and plugged his in so it wouldn't be completely dead when he woke up. I happened to notice that he had missed messages. Two from his mom with voicemails, a text from his dad, a text from Preston, two from Stella, and a call from someone labeled "Pup." There were also notifications from Instagram and Twitter and other social media outlets, but damn. I guess Ryder really was popular...I didn't mind nor doubt it because some of the unread messages were timed from before we fell asleep or even before we got here from the restaurant (which shocked me since he was on his phone a lot before dinner).

I finally looked at my own phone and had a few messages as well. Cassandra had called and left a voicemail, as expected and then texted me saying that Andrew had told her I was out with Ryder. Andrew had texted me three times. The first was him complaining that the house was empty and boring; the second was him attempting to scold me for not asking permission to go out with Ryder from Cassandra; and the last one was just a couple hours ago when he was asking about the senior camping trip and asking when I was coming back home.

That was about the extent of my popularity.

Suddenly, the house phone was chirping and I froze at the thought of it waking up Ryder. When I grabbed the nearest counter-side phone and was barely able to form the beginnings to a hushed greeting, the phone was quickly taken from me and I was being sandwiched between the counter and Ryder, who held the phone up to his ear with one hand while his other created a bar against my escape.

"Hello?" he grumbled in a broken morning voice. I saw his Adam's apple quiver since he stood so close to me in the dark room. I heard a response through the phone so low that I could recognize syllables instead of words. "Yeah...well I was until you called...Okay?" he took a seat, opening up for my escape, and put his head in his hand while talking. "Yeah...Yes, she's here...Obviously. Can I—Hi, Mom...Yeah, I know, it's okay...I know...Well too bad. He can deal with it when we get back from the camping trip. Actually, no. It's not his job to—...That doesn't matter anymore, Mom...Yes ma'am, she—..." I heard him stressfully sigh and look at me with fatigued eyes as I heard murmurs coming from the phone. Then, he held it out to me. I hesitantly took the phone and held it up to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Ashlynn?"

"Yes...?"

"Hi, sweetheart, it's Ryder's mom!" she greeted kindly while I watched Ryder yawn and rub his eyes with the base of both his hands.

"Good morning," I returned while Ryder put his head onto his arms and watched me, lazily.

"I just wanted to apologize for my husband and Ryder waking you up," she expressed.

"No—No! It's okay. I mean, I was up anyways," I said, covering a small yawn.

"Oh..." she replied. "I hope it isn't Ryder. You know, if he's keeping you up, you can just sleep in our room and leave him to whatever loud video games he's trying to convince you into playing all night."

"Thanks," I laughed.

"Really, he should be more focused on making sure you're getting to sleep, not being kept up all because of—"

"We were sleeping, Mom," Ryder suddenly seemed to groan with his eyes shut in the same position. I suppressed a laugh.

"Well like I said, I'm sorry," she repeated once more and I returned the phone to my ear as Ryder sighed, threatening to fall back asleep on the counter. "You two continue whatever you were doing."

"Sleeping," Ryder repeated.

"Alright, Mrs. Ramon," I replied.

"Oh, and Ashlynn?" she added.

"Yes?"

"Don't let Ryder stress you out with the whole werewolf business," she said and I paused. I hadn't realized that she even knew about Ryder being a werewolf. I should've figured it when Ryder mentioned that she respected mates—probably since Ryder's father was hers, I assumed—but it didn't click until her warning just now. "He's dealing with a lot right now, some with, some without my knowing, but I just want you to be there for him no matter what—even when things get tough because Ryder's a good boy despite his behavior and one day, I hope you get to experience that, okay?"

"I..." I began and was honestly choking back from saying things I didn't mean or feelings that I didn't want known. "I know he is." I agreed to be vague and then Ryder easily took the phone from me before I could elaborate on my feelings or a response.

"I'll talk to you later, Mom," he sighed with his eyes closed. Then, I heard murmurs before he pressed a button on the phone and groaned as he put his head on his arm out of exhaustion. I added my hand to his shoulder just because it felt like something I should do while he was groggy and a passive non-morning person, but then he slowly looked up at me.

"You can go sleep in my bed," he whispered. "I'll take you back home later when Andrew's awake and you can pack for the trip."

He began to get up, allowing me to discontinue from feeling his close warmth.

"Where are you going?" I asked as he was already close to the clothes pile and picking up his articles.

"Um, an errand," he stammered and left the room towards the direction of his bedroom. Since that's where he planned for me to sleep, I followed him through the dark house. He was already in his closet, pulling out a clean shirt to pull over his bare torso. I leaned against the doorway and simply watched him as he put on some shoes. He looked over at me after he got up from his bed.

"I'll be right back," he muttered and then kissed my cheek, causing my face to warm up. He pulled back with his hands cupping my face and a smile on his own. "I promise." I muttered a response, but he just double kissed my right cheek once more and then we were both chuckling. "Get some sleep and I'll be back by the time you wake up."

So that's what I did—or tried to do.