After Christian won the first two hands, Rico stopped mid shuffle before the third game and tossed out strip Uno to make it interesting.
So here we were, back in our spots after a ten-minute break to put on—or take off—more clothes before we started.
“I didn’t know you owned that many clothes,” Christian mused, eyeing the thick mountain of clothes swallowing Harlow’s small frame. Her clothes weighed more than she did right now, and I let out a snort of laughter.
“I don’t.” She stared at him, lips twitching. “I got half of these clothes from your room.”
In the silence that followed, Rico’s freaky ass walked in the kitchen wearing his boxers and an indulgent smirk.
Picking up the blunt from the ash tray in the middle of the table, he sat down at the head and started shuffling the cards again.
Aside from me, Christian was the only one who hadn’t changed anything. And the gray sweats he had on had my eyes lingering at his inner thigh until he plucked the blunt dangling from Rico’s lips and took a pull.
Holding the back of Rico’s head, he leaned down and blew a shotgun past his slightly parted lips.
Harlow’s sharp inhale said everything I couldn’t.
Watching Rico forget what he was doing to chase another brush of their lips was almost as intoxicating as watching Christian pepper kisses on his face before he sat down and passed me the blunt.
“That’s all you, birthday boy.”
If I faced the rest of this blunt alone, I’d be too stuck to finish this game. So, I ashed it and slid Harlow’s cards to her before picking up mine.
Rico placed the rest of the deck in the center of the table and slid his stare over us, one by one.
“Let me go over the rules before we start because I don’t want none of y’all to act like you don’t know what’s going on.”
Christian snickered and sat back, staring at me with hooded eyes.
Harlow bit her lip and held eye contact with Rico as he went through the rules I knew he just made up.
“Forget to say uno, strip. For Draw 2 and Draw 4, that’s how many things you gotta take off if you don’t wanna pick up the cards.”
Throats cleared around the table, and I could see Christian’s high ass trying to catalog the rules in his head.
“Wild cards mean the person can pick the color and who they want to take something off that matches that color.”
“Christian has on gray and white; he’ll never have to take anything off,” Harlow grumbled under her breath.
Christian was faded, but he heard that and tore his eyes from me to give her a languid smile. “You see me naked every day, sweetheart. But if you want me to strip for you?—”
Rico cleared his throat and projected his voice over theirs.
“Reverse cards mean you can put something back on. If you have a Skip when it’s time for you to do something, you can throw it down and make the person next to you do it.”
“The color doesn’t matter?” Harlow asked.
“The color doesn’t matter,” he confirmed with a tilt of his head. “Y’all ready?”
Everybody nodded, but I knew damn well none of us were sober enough to remember what he said.
“Bet. Soul, you first.”
I flipped the first card over. Green 1. I dropped a blue 1 and waited to see what Harlow would put down.
She added a blue 7 and flicked her gaze to Chris.
He tossed out a blue 5.
