The game begins.
I scroll to the first question on the screen, feeling a slight tension in the air.
"Okay, first question: What did the ancient Greeks call a hypotheke?" I read, trying to keep my tone as neutral as possible, though inside, I'm already laughing at the absurdity of the situation.
"Options:
A) A pillar with a sign indicating that a debtor was responsible to the creditor with their land.
B) A form of credit that a nobleman could offer to a commoner.
C) A small wooden vessel where very poor people hid their belongings."
I glance at Katrin, watching as her brows furrow slightly in thought. She bites her lower lip, clearly hesitating between the options.
The room fills with laughter and light tension—the air practically crackles with playful challenge. Katrin narrows her eyes, studying me, clearly trying to guess my answer before voicing hers.
"So, which one would you pick?" she asks, tilting her head coyly.
I shake my head, crossing my arms.
"Not fair, little one," her trick amuses me. "If you want to hear my answer, you go first."
Rebel Girl pouts, but the spark of excitement still dances in her eyes.
"Option A, I think," she finally declares, straightening up slightly as if already sensing victory.
I smirk.
"Well, I say it's B. Let's see…" Slowly, deliberately dramatic, I flip the card on the screen.
Answer: A) A pillar with a sign…
"Oh, come on!" I groan, flopping back against the couch and throwing my hands up. "How?!"
Katrin instantly jumps to her feet, her face lighting up with a triumphant grin.
"A-ha, Max!" she sings, clapping her hands and doing a little victory dance. "Come on, come on, take something off!"
I sigh dramatically, but inside, that familiar mix of frustration and amusement flares up—annoyance at losing, but sheer delight at her joy.
"What? That was your question," I try to dodge, but she's already bouncing toward me, eyes gleaming.
"Nope, Max! You answered, so pay up!" she insists, her voice brimming with such unrestrained glee that resisting is pointless.
I roll my eyes, but a smile breaks through my fake annoyance.
"Fine, fine…" I slowly rise from the couch, making a whole show of it.
The zipper on my jeans comes undone with a loud zzzip. Katrin, barely containing her delight, covers her mouth with her hand, but her laughter escapes anyway.
"Bravo!" she applauds as I dramatically collapse back onto the couch in just my T-shirt, boxers, and socks.
"I'm starting to really like this game," my girlfriend coos, clearly enjoying the view.
I raise an eyebrow.
"So… next question," she starts, already opening her mouth to continue.
"Wait!" I cut in, holding up a finger. "I was thinking… let's both answer every question. That's fairer."
Katrin pauses for a second, then her lips curl into a sly grin.
"And… if we both get it wrong?" she hints, her tone dripping with mischief.
"Then…" I pause for effect, "we both lose an item."
"Oooh," she drawls, intrigued. "The game just got even more interesting…"
Her eyes sparkle. I just smirk back, but inside, I'm already anticipating where this is headed.
"Alright, next question…" I say, swiping to the next slide, "let's see which one of us is actually smarter."
The game continues.
The warm glow of the screen softly lights up her face, reflecting in her hazel eyes, full of excitement. Her fingers lazily swipe across the smartphone, flipping the next quiz card.
"Okay, question: 'What is made from the flower pollen of a baobab tree?'" she reads, raising an eyebrow at the unexpected topic.
"Options:
A) Mascara.
B) Glue.
C) Cockroach repellent."
"My answer is B," I say confidently, biting my lip in anticipation.
Katrin freezes for a second, her gaze flicking over the screen before her lips stretch into a satisfied smirk.
"Same as mine."
She flips the card, and a green checkmark flashes on the screen—we get it right! A relieved sigh escapes me, and a hint of triumph tugs at the corners of my mouth.
"Nice," Katrin nods approvingly, satisfaction lacing her voice.
This time, we both win, and no one has to strip—but the excitement burns even brighter, like flames fanned by a fresh wind.
"Alright, my turn to ask the next question," Katrin declares triumphantly, flicking to the next card with a tap of her finger.
The phone screen glares mockingly, displaying a question that seems tailor-made to stump us.
"What species do the oldest trees on Earth belong to?
Options:
A) Oaks.
B) Sequoias.
C) Pines."
A thick silence settles between us. Even the rustling of leaves outside sounds deafening. I clench my jaw, feeling sweat trickle down my back. All these trees are ancient… Damn it, what if we're wrong?
"Well? Answering?" Rebel Girl suddenly breaks the silence. Her fingers drum impatiently on the table, her eyes gleaming with excitement and a hint of teasing.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady my voice.
"Ugh… Fine. Let's go with oaks," I mutter, my heart pounding in my throat.
Katrin yanks the phone back, her face lighting up with victorious fire.
"Drop the boxers, loser," she hisses, jabbing a finger at the screen.
The bitter taste of defeat floods my mouth. Slowly, I reach for my socks, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. Katrin's gaze drills into me—disappointed, but… strangely aroused.
"What did you pick?" I mumble, tossing the socks aside.
She lazily rolls onto her side, lips quirking in a coy smirk.
"Pines. I read a lot about them… fascinating trees," she traces a finger over the screen like she's stroking an invisible book page. "So yeah, I knew."
Her voice is pure velvet provocation.
Then, with a sharp flick of her wrist, the phone is thrust back at me, a new question glaring up.
"Now it's your turn to ask. Go."
The screen's cold blue light washes over my face as the next devious question appears:
"Question: A gluon is…
Options:
A) A Roman emperor.
B) An elementary particle.
C) A small rodent-like animal."
My forehead creases with tension. Fists clench involuntarily, nails digging into my palms. Scraps of half-remembered facts flit through my mind—useless, slippery.
"I… don't actually know," my voice jumps half an octave, betraying my uncertainty. "But definitely not C. I think there was some emperor… Glykerios? Glucer… No, gluon…" My lips twist into a grimace of doubt. "Fine, let's say A."
Katrin freezes for a second, eyes narrowing into a predator's squint. The corners of her lips curl in barely concealed triumph.
"I vote B," she drawls, deliberately slow, savoring the moment.
Her fingers gracefully turn the phone. The screen flashes blinding green—her victory, again. My heart sinks somewhere into my stomach, leaving behind a sticky chill of disappointment.
"How do you even know these answers? These aren't exactly…" my voice wavers treacherously as I slowly, agonizingly, pull my T-shirt over my head. "These questions… they're not from textbooks, are they?"
The room suddenly feels suffocatingly small. The air is thick, hard to breathe. Katrin leans back against the couch, her hair spilling over her shoulders in soft waves.
"Well, I did tell you," her lips stretch into a smug smile. Her eyes glitter with secret knowledge. "I got encyclopedias as gifts. A lot of them. Every birthday. Because all I ever did was bury myself in books," she drags out the last words, licking her lower lip.
Now I sit just a meter away from her, in nothing but my boxers. My skin burns with shame and… something else. Her gaze slides over my body—heavy, like a physical touch. The room gets unbearably warm, even with the window wide open.
The ticking of the wall clock is unnaturally loud, counting down the seconds of this unbearable tension. My fingers drum nervously on my knees, trying to distract from how fast my heart is racing.
The evening light streams softly through the half-closed curtains, painting the room in warm amber tones. The air smells faintly of fresh coffee and the musty scent of old books on the shelf. We sit across from each other, separated only by the low coffee table littered with question cards.
"Which game's name literally translates to 'the king is dead'?"
She asks with a light smirk, her fingertips tracing the edge of the phone. Her eyes sparkle with mischief, the ghost of a smile playing at the corners of her lips.
"Options:
A) Chess.
B) Sudoku.
C) Poker."
I hesitate for only a second—the answer is obvious.
"Chess, of course," I say confidently, warmth spreading through me at the thought of victory.
She laughs, the sound as light as rustling pages.
"Agreed. Didn't even need to check," I grin.
But the game is just beginning.
The next question is almost laughably easy.
"What family does the tomato belong to?
A) Solanaceae.
B) Asteraceae.
C) Brassicaceae."
I nearly snort.
"Getting soft on me now?" I mutter, shrugging. "Option A."
Katrin nods, but something flickers in her gaze—disappointment, maybe. Like she's hoping for a fiercer fight.
"Same."
Then it's her turn again, and the subtle shift in her posture tells me—this one will be brutal.
"My question next. And it's hard. Even I'm not sure," she admits, uncertainty coloring her voice for the first time tonight.
I lean forward, elbows on my knees. My pulse kicks up a notch.
"What is byssus?
A) Protein filaments secreted by some mollusks.
B) A sauce in Eastern cuisine.
C) A cabbage dish."
My mind races, scrambling for fragments of knowledge. I've heard the word… where?
"A," I finally force out, palms slick. "What's your guess?"
A heavy silence settles. I watch her bite her lip, weighing the options.
"C," she says at last, half-guessing, half-daring.
Then—oh, that moment—her lips twitch, and that familiar, wicked spark flashes in her eyes.
"You lose," I whisper to myself, a chill running down my spine.
She doesn't need to say it. That barely-there, triumphant smirk says everything.
Slowly, I rise from the chair, the charged air between us trembling with unspoken words. The elastic of my boxers snaps lightly against my skin as I toy with it, dragging out the moment.
Katrin sits frozen, her dark eyes—twin flames—locked onto my every move. Impatience and curiosity war in her gaze, lips slightly parted like she's already imagining what comes next.
But she's in for a letdown.
Instead of continuing, I step toward her, pulse thrumming. The sweet vanilla hint of her perfume hits me as I lean in, brushing my lips against her cheek. Her skin burns under my touch.
"Sweet dreams," I murmur, already pulling away to grab my shirt from the armrest.
A beat of stunned silence. Then…
"HEY!" Her voice is a detonation.
Something soft whizzes past my ear and smacks the wall. A pillow. I don't even turn, just smirk as I hear her leap off the couch.
"Cheater! Get back here!" Outrage, frustration, and—was that a laugh?—tangle in her tone.
But I don't go back. We're not that close yet—not enough for me to strip bare in front of her so casually. After the first time? Maybe. Then we might've finished the game. But not tonight.
I am already in bed, breathing deep, sinking into the mattress. Eyelids heavy, thoughts blurring, body weightless. Distant sounds of the night—the creak of an old wardrobe, wind against the window, far-off traffic—fade as sleep pulls me under.
Then—the mattress dips. A whisper of movement, the faintest rustle, and suddenly she is there. Sliding under the covers, quiet as a shadow, but I feel her warmth the second she presses against me.
She settles close, knees brushing mine, a hand "accidentally" grazing my shoulder.
I crack my eyes open. In the dimness, I can just make out the curve of her face, pale in the sliver of light through the curtains. She doesn't speak. Just curls into me, so near I feel her breath on my skin—steady, warm, uneven, like she's been holding tension until this moment.
I sigh and pull her closer, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair. She doesn't resist—just exhales deeply and nestles in, compact against me, as if trying to take up as little space as possible.
Tomorrow will be chaos. Plans, tasks, responsibilities already flicker at the edges of my mind. But right now? None of it matters. Here, in the dark, wrapped in her warmth, I don't want to think about anything but her.