Quaran-King

This is my hastily written entry for the Love The One(s) You're With contest. It's a bit shorter than most of my previous work, though hopefully just as well received. Win or lose, I sincerely hope all of you are doing well during this troublesome moment in history. Stay safe, and I hope you enjoy!

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"Did you try smacking the router?" Wyatt asked, earning an eye roll as I tried a different streaming service. Like the first, this one showed a loss of network connection.

"This isn't the fucking Russian Space Station," I replied, hoping my ginger roommate understood the reference. If he did, he made no mention. "I've already tried resetting it twice. If that doesn't fix the Wi-Fi then it's out on their end, not ours."

"Great," he replied, sighing as he picked up his phone to preoccupy himself. "It's bad enough we haven't been able to leave this place for the last six weeks, apart from the occasional grocery run."

"Don't forget the testing," I add, turning the TV off in frustration.

"Felix, do you really thing standing in line at the campus clinic, six feet apart mind you, really counts as socializing?"

I smirk but have nothing else to add. The governor had closed down the schools weeks ago, around the same time as the mandatory quarantine order. Since then the pair of us had spent almost all of our time in this tiny apartment, and though we understood and appreciated the need for the lockdown, there was only so much a person could do to keep himself entertained for this long in isolation. Severing the Wi-Fi certainly wasn't going to help with that.

Fortunately for my roommate and I, our university was exceptionally generous during the current pandemic, at least for its students. For one, the apartment we shared was technically leased by the school itself, the rent paid upfront as part of our tuition. Since our jobs were effectively on hold, not having to pay rent gave us one less thing to stress over. Second, they had finally been able to offer free testing for all students, or at least the ones that remained on campus. Wyatt and I had just gotten cleared two days ago, which gave us some peace of mind but didn't really change the fact that we were more or less still stuck in our apartment building for the foreseeable future.

"Should I call the landlord and see if they know anything?" Wyatt asks, already suspecting as I do that the landlord won't have any answers, if he even answers the call at all. It was almost nine o-clock in the evening, still early for us but probably closer to bedtime for our aging building supervisor. I nod, unsure of what else to do. Under normal circumstances the two of us would simply head down to one of the local bars and have a drink. But COVID19 had seen that 'normal' wouldn't be a familiar concept for quite a while, and while certain measures were being taken to end the lockdown, bars probably wouldn't be high on that list of priorities. With nowhere to go and nothing else to do, the thought of going a night without Wi-Fi didn't sound all that pleasant.

"The signal in this place sucks balls," Wyatt continued, staring at his phone in frustration. "I'm gonna step out to the balcony to see if that helps."

I stand as he does, adding that I'd join him for some fresh air. While we hadn't truly appreciated the balcony during our first months in the apartment, the lockdown had given us a new outlook. It was the only outdoor space we could go without feeling the stares of judgment fall upon us, even if we did wear masks whenever we left the building.

As I step through the screened door and onto the stained oak of our perch, I hear familiar voices to my left. We turn to find our neighbors have ventured outdoors as well, and though I can only hear one side of the conversation, it would appear Annie has already had the same idea of calling the landlord. I listen as the green-eyed blonde speaks calmly into her phone, the annoyance on her face tactfully not translated in her voice.

"Yes sir, I understand....did they say how long it might be?....mmhmm, I totally understand....okay, thank's Mister Wheeler." She notices our presence as she hangs up the phone, our balconies right next to one another, the gap between our railing barely two feet of separation.

"Let me guess, he has no clue when the Wi-Fi will be back on?" I ask, guessing correctly.

Annie nods. She's wearing a black halter top and jeans, both of which show off her slender curves. I keep my eyes on hers, however, trying to keep my interest in her body as subtle as possible. Of all the issues with lockdown, arguably the worst was the lack of contact I'd had with the opposite sex. I was single, as was Wyatt, and by now we were practically growing our virginity back. Still, I knew when to show my respect, hormones be damned.

"No clue at all. I'm pretty sure he didn't even know the internet was down until I called. He's probably sitting at the table with one of his sudoku puzzles or something."

"Not only that, he's probably cursing at our generation as we speak," says a new voice. Annie's equally blonde but blue-eyed roommate has joined her now, stepping onto their balcony in her denim skirt and t-shirt, carrying a beer in each hand. "Telling one of his cats about how we can't live without internet and how back in his day they had to go to the library."

"Fuck, I'd love to go to the library and check out a book," I add, genuinely envious of the idea. I'd finished my modest backlog of unread books a few weeks ago.

"It's just tough times," Annie continues, shrugging as she puts away her phone. She looks at me now as she takes her beer from her roommate. "How are you two doing?"

"Can't complain. You?" Wyatt answers, though I know he's done quite a lot of complaining.

"Just bored," says Brittany, taking a sip of her drink.

"At least you have alcohol," I say.

"Barely. We're down to our last bit, actually."

"We've got plenty," says Wyatt. He's not wrong, having bought two cases of beer during our last grocery run.

"Well why don't you fellas grab a drink and come out to join us?" suggests Annie. "Not like there's anything else to do."

Wyatt gives me a glance, and I have no objections. There were certainly worse ways to spend an evening than chatting over drinks with two gorgeous young women. I excuse myself briefly to grab a pair of cold bottles from the fridge, laughing at the irony of the brand name as I add a lime wedge to both. Stepping back outdoors, I can hear that my roommate is already making a fool of himself, trying to connect his phone to the wireless speaker and failing miserably. I give him a hand, getting the music flowing as I hand over his beer.

"Social distance cheers," says Brittany, holding her drink high. "To all you cool cats and kittens!"

"For fucks sake," I mutter, smirking as I hold up my bottle. There's no chinking of glass, both parties minding the six-foot guideline as we take our sips.

"You know what I miss?" Wyatt asks. "Drinking games."

"What, like beer pong?" Brittany asks.

"Yeah. And all the other good ones. Circle of Death. Never Have I Ever. Monopoly."

"Monopoly isn't a drinking game," Annie says, her brow raised.

"It is if you're drinking while you play it," I correct. Earning a few laughs.

"What about Kings Game?" Brittany asks.

"You mean Kings Cup? Always a good one," Wyatt replies.

"No, I mean Kings Game. Ousama?" When nobody replies, Brittany continues. "Have none of you ever heard of this? Wyatt, surely you've watched anime before?"

Wyatt cocked his head slightly, not sure how to take that accusation. "Doesn't sound familiar. Is it Japanese?"

Nodding, Brittany explained. "You take a bunch of chopsticks, one set for each player, and you number them, except one has a crown on it. Whoever draws the crown is king for that round, and they get to issue orders to the other numbers, kinda like dares. Except they won't know who has each number."

"Sounds simple enough," I answer, already thinking of ways such a game could go perfectly well, and horribly wrong. "Fuck it. Want to play?"

Brittany gave her roommate a look, though neither seemed to dislike the idea. "We would need chopsticks for that, or at least something similar, like popsicle sticks."

"Got it covered," Wyatt replies. "We've been ordering a ton of Chinese the last few weeks. They always give us extra utensils so we have plenty of unopened chopsticks taking up space in a kitchen drawer."

"What about social distancing? We'd need to all handle the same sticks." Annie asks.

"We'll put them in a cup between the balconies. We can put hand sanitizer there too if you're worried."

The girls thought it over, but not for long. "Sure, we can give it a try. I've never played it between balconies before," said Brittany.

"I've never played it at all," said Annie.

I left them once again as I rummaged in our kitchen to find the chopsticks Wyatt had mentioned. I grabbed four pair, pulling them out of their wrapping and making sure there were no cracks or stains on any of them. That would probably defeat the purpose of the game. I also grabbed a black marker to write the numbers one through three on the flat part of the sticks, and a miniature crown on the fourth.

I brought my craft project back to the balcony just as Brittany was emerging from their apartment with a large dry erase board, the kind you would hang on your wall. It still had a few of her handwritten notes marked in various colors on the white surface.

"Keeping score of something?" I asked, but Brittany laughed, laying the board across the railings between us to form a makeshift table, like a bridge.

"This was all I could find that would fit," she explained, adding a large bottle of lemon scented hand sanitizer and a red solo cup to the surface. In the latter I deposited the chopsticks, markings toward the bottom so nobody could see which one they were choosing. I wiggled the cup in my hand to shuffle them, then placed it back in the center.

"You guys ready?" I ask. After getting their nods, I pull a stick at random, hiding the marking at the bottom in my hand as Wyatt drew one of his own. Annie and Brittany then take their turns, taking the last two from the cup. I look at the number on my stick, a three.

"Looks like I get first crown!" Brittany cheers, showing us the royal stamp I'd doodled on her pair of sticks. "Probably for the best, since now I get to show you all how this is done. So you can choose any number or multiple numbers to do whatever you ask, and if they refuse, they have to finish their drink." She takes a few moments to think of a worthwhile challenge before finally calling me out. "Number three, I command thee to do ten push-ups."

"Right," I say, holding up my number. "That's me then. Easy enough." I put my sticks back in the cup before getting to my hands and pumping out the required number of push-ups. It was an easy enough task for any of us, but I knew after a few beers that might not be the case.

"Good job!" Brittany says in mock celebration, clapping as they toss their sticks back in the cup and shuffle. We draw again, the girls going first this time.

"I'm king," says Wyatt, holding up his crown. I silently pray he doesn't make an ass of himself so early in the game. I wouldn't be surprised if he commanded all numbers to take off clothes, which admittedly was something I might would try later on myself, but certainly not in the second round. Thankfully, he isn't quite that stupid.

"I'll go with number one," he begins, still thinking of a dare. "Sing aloud to the chorus of this song and do your best dance to go along with it."

"For fucks sake, Wyatt," I reply, showing my sticks. I'm the unfortunate victim. The girls are already laughing on their side of the building, and it's pretty clear why. There are no male vocals in Zella Day's Hypnotic. But I'm not one to back down from a challenge, and luckily I don't have the worst singing voice. So as I reluctantly begin singing along to the catchy chorus, the laughter fades and the girls actually seem somewhat impressed that I sound less like nails on a chalkboard than expected. My dancing, however, leaves much to be desired.

I finish my solo and put my stick back in the cup to the sound of applause. We draw once more, and this time I'm the one holding the crown. I already have something sinister in mind. "Numbers one through three have to eat a spoonful of hot sauce," I declare.

"Like, a teaspoon or tablespoon?" asks Brittany, earning a friendly smack from her roommate.

"Don't give him any ideas!" Annie says, but I allow that a teaspoon is plenty large enough. Wyatt and the girls disappear momentarily before returning with their individual spoons, all of which I verify to be full of something orange and probably very spicy. I watch as they count down from three and take their spoonful simultaneously, Wyatt seemingly unaffected while the girls grimace and chase their snack with a large gulp of beer.

"Let's not do that again," says Annie, replacing her stick last and shuffling the cup after using the hand sanitizer. When we draw for the next round, her mood changes, a smile lighting up her face as she declares herself the Queen. Her words, not mine. "I'm gonna say numbers one through three have to take a drink for every person they've slept with."

"Annie!" Brittany cries, her cheeks already blushing, but her roommate doesn't cut her any breaks.

I lift my beer and take a modest eight sips, rolling my eyes as Wyatt takes more than a dozen, even though I know for a fact his is lower than mine. Brittany, by contrast, decides it's easier to just finish her drink entirely, downing a third of the bottle before tossing it in the waste bin.

"I wasn't always as innocent as I seem," she tries to explain, though truthfully I never thought her to be all that innocent to begin with. "I had a pretty wild few years in high school that I'm not entirely proud of."

"Hey, no judgment from this side of the railing," I say, enjoying her appreciative smile before she leaves to grab another round of drinks.

When she returns we shuffle the chopsticks and draw again, only to find that Annie has crowned herself Queen all over again. "I could get used to this," she says, smiling maliciously as she ponders what to make the rest of us do. "Okay, numbers one and three have to take shots!"

I look at my stick, thankful to see a black 2 looking back at me. Wyatt and Brittany would be the victims this round, and I wasn't going to complain. I knew how to handle my beer, but adding a shot to the mix this early in the game could be troublesome.

With a minimal amount of complaining, Wyatt and Brittany once again disappeared into just long enough to prepare their drinks and return to the playing field. Brittany had what appeared to be tequila, which she admitted was all they had at the moment. Wyatt chose whiskey, and after another air toast they downed the liquor and slammed their glasses on the railing.

"If I get to be King this round I'm going to make you pay for that," Wyatt declares. When the sticks are drawn, his shout of glee confirms that he is in fact the winner for the round. "Excellent! Number two has to tell the story of how they lost their virginity."

"How did you know I had number two?!" Annie asks, holding up her sticks.

Wyatt shrugs. "I didn't. Had a one-in-three chance of getting it right and figured even if it wasn't you, it would be good for a laugh." I couldn't argue with that logic.

"Fine," Annie says, the annoyance on her face probably fake. "It was my senior year of high school and it was with this boy I had been friends with since we were little. I won't lie, it was pretty much one of those situations where we were hanging out and had a bit too much to drink, and we decided to just have sex so we could see what it was like."

"That sounds like it could be pretty awkward the next day," Wyatt mused. I agreed.

Annie shrugged it off. "We stayed friends for a while after that. We even fucked a few times right before college, almost like a friend with benefits kind of thing. But yeah, we went separate ways and don't talk all that much now."

"Doesn't sound like the most special way to lose your v-card," said Brittany, teasing her friend.

"Should we get into how you lost your precious fucking 'v-card' then?" Annie asked, wiping the smile from Brittany's face.

"Nope, this was your punishment, not mine." Brittany puts her stick in the cup before anyone can argue, and we shuffle and draw again.

I'm holding the crown this time, and I already have a decent challenge in mind. "Numbers one and two have to do ten jumping jacks." Even if Wyatt is one of the chosen numbers, I'll still get to watch one of the girls bouncing up and down for a few seconds. You can imagine why such a sight would be of interest.

Fortunately for me, Wyatt is number three, and the girls immediately groan as they give themselves space for the punishment. They're both well aware of why the two boys across from them are grinning ear to ear, but they make no effort to hide or adjust their boobs as they begin the exercise. I try to keep my eyes level with theirs, my glances at their bouncing breasts as undetectable as I can muster. Wyatt is far less subtle, but neither girl mentions it as they finish their routine with laughter and return their sticks for the next drawing. Whether it's the alcohol or their naturally flirty nature, they don't seem to be feeling very shy tonight, and I can't help but wonder how far I can make this work to my advantage. Social distancing, of course, could end up setting a limit to that.

Or would it?

"I have a question before we begin the next round. Have either of you, by chance, gone to the clinic for the free testing?"

Annie gives her roommate a glance before answering, and I have a feeling her mind is on the same track as mine, though neither of us dares speak it aloud. "Yeah, we both went just yesterday in fact. What about you?"

"Two days ago," Wyatt replies. "We haven't gone anywhere or been around anyone since then, so we're still good to go on our end."

"Interesting," Annie continues. "That's good information to know." She doesn't elaborate on why, choosing that moment to draw her stick and continue the game. We all follow suit, with Brittany being crowned.

"Numbers one through three have to take a drink for every time they've masturbated this week," she says, passing a knowing grin to Annie in the process.

I take two sips from my bottle, though if I were an honorable man I would have taken more. Wyatt takes four, and I have a feeling he's also downplaying his true number. My focus, however, is on Annie, who takes three gulps by my count. Quarantine has been a lonely experience for all of us it seems.

"Oh goody, my turn again," Annie says, showing us the crown as we draw again. With little hesitation, she issues her orders, and they come as a shock. "Numbers one and two have to make out for ten seconds!"

Brittany stares wide eyed at her roommate, clearly surprised by her boldness. Looking at the number 1 on my sticks, I can only pray her surprise also has something to do with her participation. I glance to Wyatt, and to my relief his is number three.

"Don't give me that look," Annie says, silencing her roommate before she can protest. "We said it ourselves, we've all had the test recently and the risk is pretty much as minimal as it possibly can be." Then, with a smile, she adds, "But if you want to puss out you can always finish your drink instead."

Brittany looks over to find me holding the magic number. I give her a shrug. "It's up to you. I'm cool with it if you are, but I understand if you'd rather keep your distance."

She doesn't reject me immediately, much to my relief. She ponders for just a few seconds before replying. "You said you were tested two days ago?" I nod, still waiting. Finally, after a not-so-subtle look over my entire body, she smiles and agrees. "Fine, it may not be the most responsible course of action but it's probably safer than handing cash to a delivery guy I've never met."