Gravity by M. Leighton

something along the lines of a nervous breakdown.
    Shaking my head in an effort to get my thoughts back on track, I scrambled to formulate some kind of plan, some way around the heated demise of Trace and Brady’s friendship.  The only thing I could think of was to instigate something that had a longstanding history of bringing about intense male bonding between my brother and his best friend.  The first thing that came to mind was a friendly competition, so I went with it.
    Turning from Lacey, I weaved and wiggled my way to the periphery of the room where I stepped up onto the coffee table that had been pushed aside earlier by the two very men that I was trying to protect.
    “All right, who thinks they can outdrink the two birthday boys?  Longest tap hit wins a…a…” I stammered, not having put nearly enough forethought and planning into my wager.  Unfortunately, I panicked and blurted out, “a kiss!” 
     

 
    CHAPTER SIX
     
    As I glanced around the big open room, I saw the heads of both Trace and Brady whip toward me.  It was then that what I’d said, what I’d done finally set in.  It was then that I felt my cheeks burn with the flames of a thousand candles. 
    For a moment, all I could think was, Why would anyone want to kiss you, Peyton?
    But then, much to my surprise, most of the males in the room started clapping and making all sorts of strange, guy-noises of approval, chanting my name.  They shuffled quickly into a line that pointed directly to the keg where it sat in the kitchen. 
    Suddenly, I felt queasy.  I glanced first at Lacey, who was watching me with eyes wide and mouth agape, then I looked up and my gaze collided with Trace’s. 
    His warm, glittering eyes were guarded, enigmatic.  Catching the tiniest bit of movement, my eyes dropped to his mouth.  Ever so slightly, Trace’s lips twitched at the corners right before he slapped my brother on the shoulder and began moving through the crowd.  As he made his way toward the kitchen, his eyes kept straying to me where I stood, stupefied, on the coffee table at the opposite end of the room. 
    Once the actual competition began, I silently commended myself for the stroke of genius in initiating it.  Trace and Brady were getting along beautifully and my glance at the clock assured me it was well past midnight.  Whatever other idiotic things I’d done or said were peanuts in comparison to keeping the peace between them.
    I ended up keeping my post atop the coffee table.  It provided someone with my stature a bird’s eye view of the festivities in the kitchen, as I could see the keg right through the door.
    “All right, who’s next?” Brady asked, scanning the dwindling line of challengers.  Nearly every male at the party had participated, none able to best Brady’s time.  He even agreed to let them go twice if they felt like they could do better, and many did.  But not a single one could outdo Brady. 
    My brother, the burgeoning alcoholic , I thought snidely.  Not for one second, though, did I believe that Brady had a problem.  I would never joke about something so serious if I thought he was in danger of losing control.
    When no one responded, I saw Trace move away from his position leaning against the bar behind Brady.
    “Well if none of you pansies can beat Brady’s time, I guess it’s up to me.  Can’t have him kissing his own sister now, can we?” he teased, his eyes finding mine over the heads of the crowd.  He winked almost imperceptibly and my stomach did a flip.  Was he actually trying to win so he could kiss me?  Did he think he could get away with it without making Brady mad that way?
    The more I thought of it, the more genius it sounded.  Maybe it would work.  Maybe Brady would see it as a part of the game and not be upset by it.  But if he didn’t…
    My blood began to warm at the mere prospect of Trace’s lips on mine, even if it was in a crowded room with my brother and my best friend looking on.