Angel unfolded the mat as I chewed on an apple and re-read the instructions.

"Listen to this," I laughed. "'A new stocking-foot game that everybody will flip over. Twister can be played indoors or outdoors by Boys or Girls or Mixed Groups of all ages. The perfect fun starter for every party.' God, who wrote this?"

Angel was frowning as he tried to smooth down one corner of the mat that had been folded the wrong way. "I don't know." He tugged at the corner unsuccessfully and let out an expletive. "Stay, damn it!"

I ignored Mr. Perfectionist and read on. "It says here that you have to remove your shoes and stand facing me on the opposite end of the sheet . . . hmm . . . 'a third person called the "Referee" spins and reads aloud both the limb and the color the arrow points to.' Oh no!"

Angel was still frowning intently at the mat in front of him. "What?"

"We need a third person! Should I call Alex?"

He scowled even further. "No. We'll manage."

"Okay, but it says in the rules . . ." He wasn't paying attention. "Angel, will you stop agonizing over that stupid mat? 'We'll manage,' remember?" I said, throwing his words back at him.

He sighed. "Fine. I'll stand on the red side."

I didn't want to tell him that that was the side that I had wanted too. He was uptight enough as it was. "I'll take green."

I walked over to that side of the mat and carried the spinner along with me. Slipping off my shoes, I stood on the circles and smiled at him shrewdly. "I used to be a Twister champ back in fourth grade, you know. I'm going to kick your Newsweek-readin' butt, so just watch out."

He raised an eyebrow and eyed me with a dangerous look on his face. "Don't count on it, Twister Girl."

We faced off like those old gunfighters do at high noon. I swear, you could almost see the saloon in the background and the lone . . . what do you call those dustball things that always roll past the screen? Anyway. Keeping my eyes focused on his face, I reached over and spun the spinner.

Left hand green.

I put my hand down triumphantly and watched as Angel reached for a spot by my foot. I flashed him a cocky grin and spun again with my right hand.

Right foot green.

I moved my foot over a circle and tried not to laugh as Angel stretched to reach a green circle. Here I am, in a very comfortable position and he's all over the place after two spins. I'm going to win. I always win.

Right foot blue.

Left hand yellow.

Right foot green.

Right hand red.

Left foot blue.

Right hand . . .

The spinner swung around merrily, and Angel and I were getting Twisted into all sorts of funny positions already. I wasn't kidding when I had told him I was a Twister champ. Even with my one hand and the opposite foot stretched behind me and the other two limbs on God knows what circle by now, I still managed to hold my place. Angel, on the other hand, was looking shaky. I struggled to balance myself on one hand to push the spinner again.

Left hand green.

Uh oh.

I reached for the closest and most comfortable green spot I could, but Angel was moving to the same one. "Oh, no, you don't," I muttered, leaning over a little to block his movement, but Angel was too fast for me.

"Got it!" he yelled in triumph, laughing at his small victory. "Go find another green circle, Champ."

The other one was all the way on the OTHER side of me. I glanced at Angel out of the corner of my eye. He was still smiling over what he THINKS is a sure win for him. Keep dreaming, old man. Let's see what kind of a Twister player I really am . . .

"HA!" I cheered as my fingers grazed the circle. Hold it . . . I was tipping . . . no . . . steady . . . YES! "HA HA! See if you can beat that, Angel!"

Problem. Now how was I supposed to spin the spinner?

I eyed the thing that was so close, yet so far from my reach. I was already shaking dangerously and if I moved any more I would surely fall.

"I'll spin it," said Angel, noticing my plight. I nodded and narrowed my eyes as he leaned over and flicked the spinner with his index finger . . . have to make sure he doesn't cheat or anything.

Right hand red.

Whew.

This made my life so much easier. I was back on a comfortable position. But Angel . . .

"Having trouble, Best Bud of mine?" I crowed as he shook precariously on one hand.

"No," he said gruffly, but I could see him straining. Just then the wind gave an awful shriek and lightning and thunder crashed in a manner worthy of a bad B-horror movie. I started a little, but kept my position.

However, just as Angel's hand was reaching over me to get to the circle . . . the lights went out.

Trust the LA power authorities to screw with my perfect game.

"Damn it!" he exclaimed as he lost his balance and crashed down on top of me.

"OW!"

God, he's heavy!

I thumped what must have been his chest . . . it's hard to tell when it's pitch black. "Get off me, you jerk! You made me lose my place! You can't just fall on me and . . ." I stopped hammering when I realized what that meant.

"I won? I won? I WON I WON I WON I WON! Ha ha ha!" I was so happy for maintaining my title as reigning Queen of Twisterdom that I wrapped my arms around him and gave him a squeeze. "Did you hear me, Angel? I won!"

He was silent for a while, and I was beginning to think that he was just being a sore loser when he finally spoke. His voice sounded awfully funny. . . "So does the lucky lady get a prize?"

That's when I realized . . . Angel was still on top of me.

It only took a split second for understanding to dawn. Or at least what I thought was understanding. Does he mean what I think he means or does the meaning I mean for it to mean mean something else?

I wonder . . .

"Um . . . what . . . kind . . . of prize?" It was a little hard to concentrate when he was nibbling on my ear like that . . .

He chuckled seductively. "If you have to ask, you'll never know . . ."

Oh. That kind of prize . . .

Well, no argument from the green corner. Maybe this Friday night won't be such a waste of time after all.

Ooh, definitely not a waste of time.

Definitely.

* * * * *

Hmm . . . if I didn't know better I'd swear that he planned all this . . .

FIN

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A/N: So . . . you like? How bout, oh, I dunno . . . a review? :D