Page 117 of Game Night: Truth or Dare

Atlas and I had dated for almost two years, surviving our sophomore and junior years, summer and winter breaks, exams, and rushing. I thought what we had would last forever. Until I caught him with his dick shoved down a freshman’s throat.

Shaking my head, I return Bryson’s hug. “You’re forgiven. You knew you would be, you terrible little shit.”

Bryson cackles. I call him a little shit at least three times a day. “Yeah, whatever. Now, truth or dare?”

“Ugh. You won’t let me be until I play, will you?”

“Not on your life, babe.” He steps around me to look at how his eyeliner is applied. “I’ll pick, too. Oh!” he says, turning to me excitedly. “I’ll go first. I pick dare.”

“Of course you pick dare.” I roll my eyes as I go to my room to get dressed. “I dare you to leave me alone.”

Lying on his side on my bed, Bryson snarks at me. “Ha ha. Come on.” He turns on his stomach and kicks his feet. “Please.”

“Ugh! You’re a pest. Fine. I dare you to drop trou and show me the tattoo you keep telling me you have on your ass.”

Wiggling on the bed, Bryson turns over and slides his pants down. There on his ass, he has the tattoo of a large peach with the words ‘Eat Me’ written across it. “Told ya!”

I shake my head at him. “There’s literally no reason for you to have that tattoo.”

He gives me a dry look. “What does it say? Some guys need instruction.” He shrugs as he pulls his pants back up, making me laugh.

Bryson told me when he was eighteen, his friends dared him to get a tattoo when he was of age. He thought it was clever to add a peach to his… peach. I will admit it’s very clever and if I were his type, I’d eat his ass like it was my last meal. But Bryson and I have the same type—older men with a dad bod. And when I say dad bod, I mean a nice, squishy belly that I can cuddle up to.

Unfortunately, we haven’t seen anything like that around our small college town, so we’ve given up snagging a man here. Or at least I have. Bryson has met a man on a sugar daddy dating site he might end up having a future with. It’s just me, the twenty-two-year-old weirdo, that needs the love and companionship of a man twice my age.

Ugh.

Atlas was the one and only time I’ve dated someone my age since I turned eighteen, and he will be the last. Older men tend to want to settle down. Men my age still want to see what’s out there. I may only be twenty-two, but I don’t want to play the field anymore. It’s so boring and annoying.

Coming back to the present, I roll my eyes at Bryson. “I’m sure the kind of men we like know what they’re supposed to do with your ass.”

“Never know,” he singsongs, kicking his feet. “So, truth or dare, my favorite person?”

“Can we just wait until Evan gets here?” I ask, talking about our group’s third. Evan Callahan is the total opposite of me and Bryson. Where Bryson and I are small and slight, Evan is tall and built like a model. I will admit to having a crush on him when we met, but we ended up being great friends instead.

Just as the words leave my lips, my phone rings and Evan’s handsome face pops up on my screen. Smirking, I answer with, “Please tell Bryson to stop trying to make me do things.”

I’m greeted with vomiting in my ear. I pull my phone away, frowning at the screen. Gross. He could have texted whatever he had to say.

When he’s done, he gets back on the phone. “Sorry. I can’t make it. I have food poisoning.”

Even though I feel for him, I really wish he could come. I love when the three of us hang out. But he’s my best friend and I don’t want him to be sick. “I understand, love. But next time, can you text?”

He lets out a chuckle. “Yeah, well, the phone screen hurts my eyes. Calling is quicker.”

“Want me to bring you something? Soup?”

“God no,” he says, voice dripping in disgust. “I don’t ever want to eat again.”

He goes back to vomiting and I pull the phone from my ear. “Okay. I can come by and sit with you. Make sure you’re okay.” I cross my metaphorical fingers that he’ll say he wants me to come by.

“No,” he says, breathing roughly. “This isn’t pretty. I don’t want you to see me all clammy and gross.”

Sighing, I tell him I hope he feels better and hang up.

Bryson is sitting up on the bed and has a look of worry marring his beautiful features. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah,” I say, flopping down on my bed. “But he’s not coming. He told us to go without him. I’m thinking we should just stay in.”

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