The Bookish Life of Nina Hill(38)

“My little friend? Are you referencing WarGames or Scarface?”

Leah made a face at her. “Neither. Most people are able to use language without it being a movie or book reference. You’re the one who lives her real life in a fictional universe.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” said Nina, getting up. She walked across the bar, surreptitiously tugging her dress out of any potential folds it might have settled into. She was a real person; when she sat, she folded. Fortunately, her dark green dress was vintage, and made of sterner stuff than its modern counterparts, so she was able to pull it back into sleekness with no problem. God bless natural fibers and cutting on the bias.

She squeezed up to the bar, next to Tom. “Uh, hi there.”

Tom had actually been watching Nina approach in the mirror behind the bar, having spotted her instantly when he came in through the door. He’d watched her straighten her dress and immediately wanted to unstraighten it again. He was clearly losing his mind.

“Hi,” he said, and smiled at her, glad the lights in the bar were dim so she couldn’t see him blushing. “Ready for battle?”

She nodded, also secretly blushing. “Hopefully. You?”

He shrugged. “Hopefully. Lisa, who you met the other night, has allergies, so she’s being whiny. The other two aren’t here yet.”

“Is she your girlfriend?” Oh. My. GOD. What is wrong with you?

He paused, and a tiny frown creased his eyebrows. “No, she’s a friend. We’ve known each other since high school.”

“Oh.” Nina flailed around for a comment. “Cool beans.” At this her brain threw up its metaphorical hands and curled up on its stem like a pissed-off hen. I’m not playing anymore, it said. If the mouth isn’t going to wait for my advice, I’m done.

Nina ordered a round of shots. Tom feigned horror. “Aren’t you taking a risk, doing shots before the contest? What about your laser focus and impressive recall?”

She made a face at him. “Are you mocking me? You beat us last time.”

“That was luck. I’ve seen you play a hundred times, and that was the first time I’ve seen you beaten.” He paused. “Well, apart from the semifinal last year.”

“Oh, you saw that?”

He blushed deeper. “Yeah. We got knocked out in the semis, too. By the Spanish In-quiz-ition.” He grinned. “Nobody expected it.”

She grinned back at him. Monty Python and Harry Potter; Not just a sports nerd after all. Her shots arrived, and she was about to tell him they were for the other team, but suddenly it did seem like cheating. Dammit.

He shifted his feet, so he was facing her more completely. Her head came up to his shoulder, and she had to tip her head back a little. They were very close; she could smell sawdust and soap. “Enjoy your shots,” he said. “I’m ordering a proprietary blend of caffeine, omega-6 oils, cinnamon, and ginseng. I have it shipped directly to the bars so my team is in tip-top form.”

“Really?”

He shook his head. “Nah, not really. It’s a bucket of beer and a bowl of pistachios.”

“I love pistachios.”

“Me too.”

“They’re chock-full of fat-soluble vitamins.”

Here the conversation faltered, unsurprisingly. The phrase “chock-full” might have been the killer. Nina picked up her tray of shots and pivoted to go.

“Well, it’s nice to see you again,” she said, lamely.

He nodded. “I look forward to beating you.” He paused. “That sounded weird.”

Nina frowned up at him. “Good luck with that. We’re on fire this evening. We’ve been warming up with Galaga and have successfully defended our planet for a solid hour.”

He laughed. “If you’ve been here for a while and now you’re doing shots, it’s going to be an easy win for my team of highly trained, entirely sober intellectual giants.”

“Want to bet?”

“Sure.”

“Twenty dollars?”

“Dinner.”

Nina studied his face, but he wasn’t joking. “Dinner it is. If I win, you can take me to Denny’s.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “I love Denny’s.”

“Moons Over My Hammy?”

“Every time. And if you win?”

“Chicken and waffles.”

She laughed. “We’re a classy pair.”

He nodded. “I wonder what else we have in common apart from lowbrow tastes?” He smiled slowly at her, and she had no comeback at all. She swallowed.

Suddenly, Howard’s voice filled the bar. “Good evening, brave competitors and cowardly observers. It’s time for tonight’s challenge. In the first round we have Book ’Em, Danno up against Menace to Sobriety, and if last week’s performance is anything to go by, Menace has nothing to worry about.”

“Gotta go,” said Nina, and hurried back to her table.

Tom watched her go, noticing the way she curved herself through the crowd, small and deft. Denny’s had never seemed more appealing.

In most pub trivia leagues, or quiz leagues, or whatever they’re called in your neck of the woods, teams are given written lists of questions and a limited time to complete them. Cheating is strongly discouraged, but of course it happens, especially now that you can search the Internet from your phone. In response to this, the organizers had changed things up for the Quiz Bowl qualifiers. Competing teams sent single members up to battle face-to-face, like on a TV game show. Questions were posed, buzzers were pressed, and points were awarded. If the first one to answer was correct, she got two points. If not, and the other competitor knew the answer, she would get one point.