It seems to me that we only played rochambeau once. That one time was all it took. It didn’t even matter that we were both drunk. After 4 go ‘rounds, we still couldn’t get the game off the ground. I threw scissors, you threw a much cuter pair of scissors. I threw rock, and was met with a slightly smaller, but still solid, rock. Once we had cycled through the options of weapons, and even repeated, we looked each other in the eyes and knew that something had just happened. A marvel of sorts that we really couldn’t explain. We looked at each other with stars in our eyes the size of Texas.
Maybe Jason told us to cut it out and get a move on it. Maybe we were both so awestruck by the steel cable connecting our brains that we really had to walk away from our grudge match, with no outcome other than true love. Suddenly it didn’t matter that we couldn’t agree on who had to pay for the nights’ festivities. The connection was so strong that neither of us knew what to do.
So we kissed.
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