Conversation is limited during breakfast. I think we're both overly thrilled by how well we've gotten along this weekend, but it's been so long since we've really talked, that we've forgotten how to. We try, but it just ends up being that super awkward 'first date with a stranger' type of talk. It's uncomfortable and I'm dying to finish eating so we can do something that requires interacting without conversing. By that, I mean board games and such—not... you know? Though, that doesn't sound like a bad way to spend our morning either.

Once the dishes are washed, Seth and I venture outside to figure out our next activity. We'd spotted a small detached garage at the back of the house and decided to explore it. What we hadn't planned on finding was a pingpong table, bean bags, a dart board, a gumball machine, and a legit sound system. It's any teenager's dream.

Upon discovering this room, both of us turn excited eyes towards each other, childlike grins taking over our faces. This is exactly what we needed. Without a word, we part ways—Seth moving to one side of the table, and me on the other. With paddles in hand, the game has begun.

"Okay," I say, stopping after about two minutes of bonking the plastic ball back and forth. "We need to up the challenge a bit."

"Agreed," Seth says, placing his paddle on the table and resting his hands on the surface as he leans against it. "What's your idea?"

"How about..." I trail off, mentally scratching my head in thought. For some reason though, I'm coming up blank. I'm never blank. My mind works like an Energizer Bunny. It never stops. But, it seems right now I'm unable to put together any brilliant ideas.

"How about, if you lose a round, you have to confess something."

Of course he'd suggest that. He's been dying to confess his secrets for weeks now. This is the perfect opportunity for him. But, the smile on his face doesn't appear to hold any vengeance. He simply thinks it could be fun. From the looks of it, he has no ulterior motive other than to just have some fun.

Shrugging, I concede. "Deal."

And the games begin. The only problem is, I'm utter crap at ping pong. Within approximately two seconds, I've lost. I guess I'm stronger than I thought because I was not expecting that hit to launch the ball across the room.

Seth hurries to fetch it and then returns, an anxious look on his face.

"Well?" he inquires, most likely waiting for me to reveal something really juicy that he can use against me in the future. Unfortunately for him, I don't have many secrets that I'd be horrified of him sharing. So, I'm not too worried when I reveal my first confession.

"Sometimes when I drink water," I start to say, "I like to pretend that it's vodka because it makes me feel like a total boss."

He starts to laugh, his face crinkling in humor. I just stand there watching Seth from the opposite side of the table. He doesn't notice me watching because he's so caught up in the hilarity of my confession, and I'm grateful for this moment to observe him. He looks so much younger and happier. I take in the scene before me, loving the fact that Seth isn't hiding right now. He's just being himself.

"Seems you do a lot of pretending when you're by yourself," he observes, lifting his grinning face to meet my gawking one. His smile remains in place, but one of his brows curves itself into a look of concern. He's clearly confused by my lack of emotion, but not concerned enough to question me about it. Suddenly, his grin widens, and something evil flutters through his gaze. Before I can react, he's lifting his paddle and taking aim.

I hurry to get into position and just barely hit the ball in time. He smirks wickedly and I realize he'd been hoping I'd lose again. Surprising, since I'd assumed at first that he'd chosen this game purely to release his own guilt. Now, I'm not so sure.

Three sloppy hits later and I've lost again.

"Okay," I say, using my paddle to scratch my temple. "I once pooped in my yard just to see what it'd feel like."

Before I can fully finish my confession, Seth is already bent over, clucking his stomach at my revelation. I'm not sure what's up with him today, but for some reason, he's in a freakishly good mood right now. I can hear him choking back laughs and it's impossible not to give in to the tug of a smile that's trying to push its way onto my lips. It succeeds.

I can't believe I've never told him some of this stuff. I figured Seth knew me far better than this. Apparently, our communication skills have been suffering for far longer than I had originally thought.

The game continues, and I'm basically flinging myself back and forth, trying to nail this stupid ball so I don't have to confess anything else. I feel quite proud of myself because I've managed to hit the target nearly ten consecutive times. It's a record. This is getting more and more fun by the minute.

Two seconds later, I've lost once again.

"I once grew my armpit hairs for a month just to experience what it'd be like to go au naturel."

Seth's face is priceless. He's not laughing, or even trying to hold back a laugh. He's just staring, his face a perfect depiction of horror.

"Don't worry," I say calmly, "they're clean now and I didn't enjoy it enough to try it again. Though, the no-shaving part was definitely a bonus. Next, it'll be my legs."

He nods once, his face still unreadable, and then he's cracking. A chuckle rumbles in his chest before slowly trickling out of his mouth. He even snorts softly in his attempt to hold back his laughter, and it's that snort that has me willowing into a mess of delight. So cute.

"I think you should give up trying to participate in every 'natural' experience." His eyes find mine, and he points a stern finger at me from the opposite side of the table. "While you might enjoy looking like a cavewoman and taking dumps in the grass, I forbid you to pee on any fire hydrants or forgo bathing in exchange for using your tongue as a luffa."

I can't take it. He looks so serious. My lips are trembling in their attempts to stay sober. I fail. For some reason, it's the word luffa that has me dropping my arms on the table and laughing into the crook of my elbow.

This is what we've been missing for nearly six months. Playful banter. Playful banter can save any relationship. You just have to be willing to brush your pride and anger aside long enough to loosen up.

We continue on with our game after that and I think Seth starts growing bored of my confessions because they're all pretty similar...

I used to eat my cat's food—the wet kind—for the enjoyment of it.

I once shaved my eyebrows off because I thought it'd look cool.

I once force-fed my sister a heaping spoonful of wasabi.

I have a secret love for whiskey.

"Whiskey?" Seth actually pauses for a moment with this confession, his face visibly impressed. "Really?"

"Definitely," I answer. "You don't even know that I've got a stash of the stuff hidden beneath my pads and tampons in my bathroom drawer."

"Why hide it?"

"Because," I say defensively, "I love the stuff and I made a deal with it that I wouldn't share it with anyone else."

Seth's forehead crinkles in surprise. I can understand his bafflement right now. This is an entirely new concept for him. I can't help it that I have secret desires too, though. Whiskey just happens to be the most significant one.

"So," he begins, his words drawn out, a hint of hopefulness lacing his words, "if I went out and bought some whiskey, you'd let me share mine with you?"

My jaw drops open. I was not expecting him to make such a generous offer. I'm bobbing my head in approval instantly. I don't even need to think about that. It's like someone asking if you'd be okay with them buying you an entire Oreo Cheesecake. Well, duh! Of course I'm okay with that.

"Great!" he says cheerfully, "but after our game. We're seven to zero right now. All you have to do is lose three more times."

It's a challenge. I can hear it in his voice. He's testing my competitive spirit by waving my lousy ping pong skills in my face. Well then, bring it on, buddy. I'm gonna wipe this table with you.

And so the game commences. I'm thinking there's no hope for me when suddenly the ball skims the edge of Seth's paddle and goes sailing off to the left. We both freeze and his eyes jerk towards mine, surprise on his face.

"Well, well, well," I say, a cocky smile lifting the left corner of my lips. "Looks like we've got a loser on our hands. Now, spill!"

"Uh..." He scratches his head, and I groan in annoyance. All this time and he hasn't thought up even one confession for me? Was he really that confident in his abilities to win?

"I like pedicures," he suddenly says, and I glance up, my eyes wide.

"When have you had a pedicure?"

"Every Wednesday night for the past two months."

Wow, I just got two confessions in one. I could mentally high-five myself but I'm too distracted by the words that just came out of Seth's mouth. I want to laugh. I really do. But I'm still so shocked. I'm not judging at all. I mean, truth be told, I've never even had a pedicure myself, so I couldn't judge even if I wanted to. But, I just always assumed that was an activity for sophisticated women. I guess Seth just proved me wrong there.

"That's—" I can't even speak correctly, my mouth is all screwed up because it can't figure out whether to be pissed that he'd been ditching me on Wednesdays for pedicures or if I should find it completely hilarious. My mind finally settles on hilarious. "That's awesome," I say, and as I do so, a soft cackle begins to trickle past my lips, and when one escapes, many follow, until I'm a weeping roaring mess.

"Yeah, yeah," he mutters, but I don't miss the grin on his face that contradicts the irritation he tried to weave into his words.

Then, as payback, I scurry to collect the ping pong ball, and before I even make it properly back to my post, I'm giving the ball a graceful serve. I believe it deserves an applause. The way it arches over the tiny net and then just grazes the edge of the table before skittering off is epic. Seth doesn't even have a chance.

"Again?" he shouts, throwing his paddle down and running both hands through his hair.

"Yep," I confirm, delight in my voice.

I'm still smiling at Seth's last confession, but suddenly the mood in the room shifts. I'm watching Seth's face and I can see the very moment that something switches in him. He's still looking at me with a grin in place, but I can see his mind is elsewhere. He's thought of something to say, but he's debating when and how to say it.

And then, before he can convince himself not to, the words are dropping from his mouth like lead.

"I hate Steve."

I balk, eyes unblinking as I take in his seriousness. He's not joking. He actually hates Steve.

"What?" I gasp. "Why?"

"Because," he says, turning his gaze to his feet as he shuffles them across the floor.

I wait for him to continue, but it's as if the words have frozen in his throat. Nothing's coming out, and he seems in no hurry to make them. His eyes lift to meet mine, a look of remorse hidden in his pine-tinged irises. And then he speaks, and I'm anything but prepared for the words that leave his lips...

"Because he took you from me."