Page 66 of Pocketful of Shame

Romi

Several hours later, and all of three of us were sprawled out on the bed, all still spinning a damn beer bottle around, and all beyond intoxicated.

In fact, I was so drunk that I was beginning to think that I could drink myself sober. My knee wasn't aching anymore. Nothing hurt. This was the least anxious I'd felt in over ten months, and I was reveling in my buzz, thrilled to put my fears on the backburner for the night.

Throughout the game of truth or dare, I'd learned more truths about the boys sitting on either side of me than I could hope to remember.

Sketch caught his nanny banging his dad.

Pres caught Victoria bangingChris.

Sketch was the one responsible for the fire in the science lab in junior year.

Pres lost his virginity when he was fifteen – in my damn treehouse.

It was Presley's turn to spin and when the bottle landed on Sketch, he foolishly selected dare which was a mistake considering he wasn’t having much luck tonight, having lost both his shirt and pants in dares.

"I dare you to kiss me," Presley slurred, grinning deviously at him.

"You want me to kiss you?" Sketch chuckled, arching a dark brow.

"With tongue," Pres taunted, waggling his brows.

Sitting cross-legged in his boxers, Sketch balanced the last of the whiskey between his hands and smirked. "And you think I won't?"

"Iknowyou won't," Pres taunted. "I know what you macho, football dicks are like –"

His words broke off when Sketch leaned over and planted a hard kiss to his lips. Flushed, I gaped as they kissed for a solid ten seconds, tongue and everything. A swell of annoyance built up inside of me and I had to sit on my hands to stop myself from ripping them apart. This was the first time I'd ever seen Sketch kiss anyone else and I didn’t like it one damn bit. I knew I had no right to feel jealous, it was a ridiculous emotion to feel considering Sketch was straight, but I felt the burn anyway and it wasn’t fun.

When Sketch broke the kiss and pulled away laughing, Presley grabbed a pillow and placed it on his lap to hide the obvious bulge in his jeans. "Jesus Christ," he breathed, pushing his glasses up his nose. "I'm ruined."

"I never back down from a dare, Pres. You should know that by now." Chuckling, Sketch took a swig of whiskey and winked. "Don't be falling in love with me now, ya hear?"

"Fuck, I think it's too late for that," Pres breathed, looking flushed. "Holy hell, dude. You're an amazing kisser."

"You can thank her for that," Sketch slurred, flopping onto his back, while pointing his whiskey at me. "Taught me everything I know."

"Thank you, Romi Dillon." Presley's bleary eyes flicked to me and I flushed with heat. "Damn, baby girl, no wonder you called dibs on him when we were kids. His lips are like pillows."

"Shut the hell up about his lips," I snapped and then slapped a hand over my mouth.

"Well, well, well," Pres mused, brows raised. "Who's the catty one now?"

Drunk and embarrassed, I ripped the bottle of Jack from Sketch's hand and slugged a mouthful, dutifully ignoring the two pairs of eyes on my face. "Are we playing or what?" I huffed, resting my chin on the rim of the bottle. "Spin the damn bottle."

"My turn," Pres announced, spinning the beer bottle that was resting on top of one of his hardback notebooks.

"It's not your turn –" I began to protest, but he quickly hushed me by slapping a hand over my mouth.

"Baby girl," he said when the bottle landed on me. "I dare you to make out with Sketch."

"Wh-what?" My poor heart started to pound so hard it almost burst clean out of my chest. I glanced nervously to Sketch who was still lazing in a drunken stupor on the flat of his back before turning back to Pres. "I, uh, don’t know."

"You don’t know?" Pres arched a brow. "You sure about that?"

No. I wasn’t sure about anything now.Of courseI wanted to make out with Sketch, but I didn’t know if he wanted to make out with me. Ugh, I felt like I was eleven years old again and being dared to kiss him in our treehouse. And yeah, he kissed me back earlier, but that was after a near-death experience. That was his adrenalin. "He, uh, said I wasn't supposed to kiss him again," I whispered, fingers digging into the sheets beneath me. "I'm, uh, I don’t think we should play anymore –"

"Ugh, whatever, you big baby," Presley cut in, turning his attention to Sketch. "I dareyouto show Romi how you really feel."

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