Gravity by M. Leighton Page B

laughed.  “Like I could’ve.  First of all, I had no idea you were gonna do something stupid.  Secondly, I probably wouldn’t have even if I had known.  It’s way too much fun watching you work your way out of these precludaments.”
    I assumed Lacey meant predicaments, as precludaments wasn’t even a word.  At least not in English.  But her terrible vocabulary was the least of my worries.  Casting her a quelling sidelong glance, I turned my attention back to the activity in the kitchen.  The mood was still light and now the other guys near Adam were pushing him toward the doorway, toward the living room.  Toward me.
    I watched as Adam made his way closer, his eyes locked on mine, a teasing yet anticipatory light glinting in their dark depths.  My mouth went dry.  Why, I didn’t know.  And it wasn’t the good kind of dry, like I was nervous or anxious. It was a dry born of dread, but I wasn’t sure why.  He was more attractive than I’d ever dreamed he could be.  He seemed much more pleasant than he ever had.  And yet, there was something I couldn’t quite put my finger on that gave me pause.  Maybe it was my feelings for Trace.
    Just then, as if reading my mind and my level of discomfort, I heard Trace speak up from the bowels of the kitchen. 
    “Not so fast, Queen!”
    For the space of a single second, a hush fell across the room as Adam turned to look back at Trace.  I saw Trace step up to the keg and grab the black hose from Brady, causing the other guys in the room to yell and whistle their support of the thrown gauntlet. 
    Trace held Adam’s eyes as Adam made his way back to the kitchen.  I glanced to Brady and saw a small frown pucker the skin between his brows, but otherwise, he seemed to have no problem with Trace’s challenge.  I sent up a silent prayer that he would just think it was friendly competition and nothing more.
    As Trace signaled Brady to start the stopwatch, he began drinking, never taking his eyes from Adam.  The longer he drank, the rowdier the small party crowd became.  Soon, everyone was chanting Trace’s name, even Lacey where she stood to my right.  And me.  I was rooting for Trace, too, despite my best intentions to appear unaffected by him.
    When he’d surpassed Adam’s time, Brady raised his hand to indicate as much.  In unison, the group began counting the number of seconds Trace continued to drink.  Although I saw his eyes water, I knew that Trace was putting as much distance as he could between himself and any other challengers.  My heart swelled with a strange blend of pleasure and pride, mainly because I knew why he was doing it, for whom.   Although on this day Trace had yet to make any declarations and we had yet to share that insane moment out on the deck, I knew the connection was still there.  I could feel it in him as if those things had already happened, which in a convoluted way, they had. 
    It almost made me dizzy to think about the way events had unraveled, some only once, some twice.  I was very anxious to go back to living each day only once.  This freakish perversion of déjà vu sucked!
    Finally, Trace pulled the tap away from his mouth.  He put the back of his hand over his lips as if smothering a burp (which he probably was), but behind it, I could see them curve into a satisfied smile.  His eyes crinkled at the corners and flickered up to me for just an instant before he turned his attention to my brother.
    “Looks like the best man won,” he gloated teasingly.  “Now, let me show you how this is done, guys.”
    With a determined gleam in his eye, Trace didn’t wait for anyone’s permission or encouragement.  Without a moment’s hesitation, he walked calmly out of the kitchen, through the living room and straight to where I stood.  I was mesmerized and completely paralyzed by the fact that he was coming for me, coming to me.
    Trace stopped in front of me, his glowing amber eyes looking warmly into mine where I