Page 18 of No Romeo
Alcohol blurred my vision when I glanced over my shoulder. “Don’t you have better things to do? Bins to dive in?”
“You’re a thorn in my side, Medusa.” He shoved Kyle to the side before plopping down between us.
The scent of pine and citrus combined with the bonfire was like a crack to my Hendrix-deprived senses. “I’m not the one forcing myself on people who clearly don’t want you here.”
Hendrix glanced around the circle, a Goliath amongst everyone else as the distant flicker of firelight played on his face. “Who doesn’t want me here? Raise your hand.”
Of course, I was the only one who did. I hated him. Almost as much as my drunk self liked the way he pressed against me right then.
“See. It’s a you problem.” He thumped my forehead like a prick, then threw his arm around Kyle. “You gonna tell me what you assholes are doing or what?”
“Pla-” Kyle wheezed out a breath. “Playing Truth or Dare.”
His gaze came right back to me. “Let me guess, someone dared you to kiss the sack of shit?”
I didn’t even fight the smug smirk I knew was on my face. At my core, I was jealous and possessive, and that had never been a problem when he was mine. “Watching, were you?”
“When have I evernotwatched you, Lola?”
The admission took me back for a moment, but then I caught the scent of cheap whiskey on his breath. Of course.
The only reason he would admit to that would be if he were drunk. His gaze held mine as he yanked Kyle closer. “Whose turn is it, Chewbacca?”
“Lola’s.”
I glared at my ex, wanting him to go stick his dick in a wasp’s nest until it fell off and he could never fuck another girl ever again. “Truth or dare, Hendrix?”
“You wanna dare me to do some stupid shit like go stick my cock in a tree. So, truth it is, Medusa.” He wasn’t far off…
“You know damn well only pussies pick truth.”
“And you damn well know I’m anything but a pussy. This, on the other hand…” His hand clamped down on my thigh, fingers sweeping dangerously close to the hem of my shorts.
My entire being focused on that soft caress. “Fine.” I slapped his hand away. “How many girls have you fucked since I got sent away to foster care, Hendrix?”
I deliberately worded it that way, maybe to try to make him feel guilty. To remind him that, while I had been forcibly taken away and bounced from home to home, pining for him, he was here banging everything with a pulse.
A blip of something I wanted to believe was shame surfaced in his eyes. But then it shuttered, replaced by his cocky façade. “I don’t know,” he said.
I wasn’t sure why it made me angry or that I really actually wanted to know a cold, hard number. Perhaps I just needed him to drive the final nail in the coffin of my dying heart, to break what we’d had, once and for all. “You don’t know?”
“I answered the question” His uncaring gaze met mine. “Truth or—”
“Dare.” The last thing I would ever do was spill any truths to Hendrix.
He jutted his chin in the direction of the lake. “Go jump in, swim to the middle, and tread water for two minutes.”
My stomach sank. Hendrix knew how much I hated that lake. I’d been terrified of it ever since they had found a dead hooker in there years ago, half-eaten by God knows what.
I glanced at the ominous, black hole that lingered at the edge of the field just beyond the reach of the bonfire.
“What’s the matter, Lola?” Hendrix leaned in, his warm, whiskey-tinged breath caressing my neck. “Scared?”
“You know I am, you asshole.” I absolutely did not want to do it, but scared or not—I wouldn’t let him win. I kicked off my shoes, not realizing how drunk I was, until I pushed to my feet.
“You can change it to truth if you want,” Hendrix shouted behind me as I wobbled through the dark toward the muddy bank. “Pussies are allowed that exception.”
“Fuck you.”
