Page 57 of First Echo

"It's fine," I insisted, already standing. "Come on, don't be boring."

They exchanged glances—skeptical, confused—but ultimately followed as I led our group across the room. I could pinpoint the exact moment Brooke noticed our approach. Her smile faltered, freezing for a half-second before slipping away entirely. The sight should have given me satisfaction—proof that I could affect her, that I wasn't nothing to her—but instead, it just made the knot in my stomach tighten.

"Mind if we join?" I asked with my brightest smile—the one that meant trouble, the one I used when I wanted something and didn't care who I had to step on to get it.

Luca looked surprised but not displeased. "Sure, plenty of room." He scooted closer to Brooke to make space, which only made my smile sharpen.

The others in their group—a few seniors I vaguely recognized from the slopes—shifted to accommodate us. Julian immediately launched into some exaggerated story about his performance in the race, conveniently omitting the part where Brooke had destroyed him. Victoria and Audrey added their usual commentary, while Sam settled beside me, his presence solid and reassuring even as everything else felt like it was sliding out of control.

Brooke didn't look at me directly, but I could feel her awareness of me like a physical touch. Her body had tensed when I sat down, her shoulders drawn slightly inward as if bracing for impact. The space between us—maybe three feet of carpet and awkward silence—felt charged with something volatile, something dangerous.

"We should play a game," Sophie suggested after a particularly uncomfortable lull in conversation. "Something fun, you know, for our last night."

"Truth or dare?" I proposed immediately, the words out before I'd fully considered them. It wasn't for fun. It was for control. A way to force interaction, to break through Brooke's careful indifference, to make her look at me.

There were groans and eye-rolls, but also nods of agreement. It was childish, sure, but we were teenagers on a ski trip. Childish was practically mandatory.

"I'm in," Luca said with an easy grin, looking to Brooke.

She hesitated, something flashing in her eyes—wariness, maybe, or resignation. Then she nodded once, the movement so slight I might have missed it if I hadn't been watching her so intently.

"Great," I said, clapping my hands together. "Who wants to go first?"

The game started innocently enough. Sophie was dared to do a handstand against the wall. Audrey chose truth and admitted to cheating on a history test last semester. Julian dared Luca to attempt a Russian accent for the next three questions, which resulted in everyone dissolving into laughter at his terrible impression.

But beneath the surface pleasantries, tension simmered. Brooke and I continued our careful dance of avoidance—not looking directly at each other, yet hyperaware of every movement, every word. I found myself holding my breath whenever it was her turn, some part of me hoping she would choose me, would acknowledge me in some way, even as another part dreaded what might happen if she did.

"Madeline," Victoria said, her voice laced with mischief. "Truth or dare?"

"Dare," I replied without hesitation. I never chose truth in these games. Too risky, too exposing.

Victoria's smile turned sly. "I dare you to whisper something to Brooke. Something... interesting."

The circle went quiet, the atmosphere suddenly thicker. From the corner of my eye, I saw Brooke go very still, her fingers tightening around her cup.

"Fine," I said, as if it were nothing. As if my heart wasn't suddenly hammering against my ribs.

I shifted closer to Brooke, leaning in until my lips were nearly touching her ear. Her hair smelled like something clean and subtle—nothing like the expensive perfumes my friends and I wore. The scent was uniquely Brooke, and it hit me with unexpected force, momentarily throwing me off balance.

"You look mad," I whispered, my voice lower than intended. "I like it."

I felt rather than saw her sharp intake of breath, the way her body tensed even further. When I pulled back, her eyes were locked straight ahead, her jaw clenched tight enough that I could see the muscle working beneath her skin.

Everyone saw it—that visible reaction. A few awkward laughs circled the group, and Victoria shot me an approving look. I leaned back in my seat with a practiced smirk, as if I'd won something. But the victory felt hollow, tinged with something that tasted uncomfortably like shame.

The game continued, spinning through our circle like a Russian roulette of adolescent awkwardness. When it came to Luca's turn, he chose truth, and Julian—never one to miss an opportunity for drama—asked him what his biggest turn-off was.

"Dishonesty," Luca replied without hesitation. "Can't stand it when people aren't straight with you."

His eyes didn't flick to me, but I felt the weight of the words nonetheless. They hit too close to a nerve already raw and exposed.

"Brooke," Sophie called, pulling my attention back to the game. "Truth or dare?"

Brooke considered for a moment. "Truth."

Sophie tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Tell us your type. You know, relationship-wise."

The question hung in the air between us, innocent on its surface but loaded with potential. I found myself holding my breath, suddenly desperate to hear her answer even as I dreaded it.

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