Page 65 of Camping with the Boss

Dillian flips him off and drinks. Wait, did he sleep with River?

Jared leans forward. “Um, I’m not sure?—”

But Ander grabs his arm and pulls him back. They aren’t drinking, and I’m not sure if that means I was wrong aboutthem or if they consider coworkers to be at the same level. And technically, Ander is his boss.

Maybe Owen is wondering the same thing. “Never have I ever slept with my employee.”

“No. This is not something we need to discuss here.” I give Jared points for trying.

“Do you need to drink, Jared?” Owen asks, looking eager for the answer.

“No. Of course not.”

“What about you, Ander?”

“If I need to take a drink, Owen, I’ll do it without prompting.”

And then I notice Wade. He’s still. And pale. Oh God. Almost as one, they turn to him. His hand grips his beer and, oh God.

“I have panic attacks,” I announce loudly.

“That’s not how this works,” Carol says, with a shake of her head. “You have to say?—”

“No. I mean, the first night here, I had a panic attack, so Wade let me—we slept in the same bed. It’s fine, Wade. Go ahead and drink.”

He takes a sip, his eyes on me.

Owen squawks. “That’s cheating. I meant sex, and you know it. Did you have sex?—”

“Don’t answer that,” Jared says in his lawyer voice.

“Sorry, Owen. Your turn is up. You should say what you mean.” River turns to Vivian. I pray she doesn’t ask the question.

She lifts her chin with her lips set in a firm line. Shit. “Never have I ever taken someone’s food from the break room fridge and eaten it.”

The only sound is the crickets in the background and the popping of the fire. No one talks. Or moves. Or drinks. Everyone’s looking at Lydia.

“No one needs to take a drink?” Vivian stares at each one…even me. Then, her gaze lands back on Lydia. “No one?”

Carol moves on, stating she’s never had blueberry pie—and someone seriously needs to give this girl some pie. Maybe whoever’s stealing other people’s desserts.

Al has never been so disgusted by a bunch of people before, and for some reason, everyone drinks.

“Never have I ever,” Lydia says, glaring at Vivian, “intentionally stolen anything.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Owen asks. “You’ve either stolen or you haven’t.”.

Lydia huffs in protest. “I might have taken a pen or something by accident, but I don’t steal.”

“Fine. If we’re being picky,” he says, looking defiant. “Define anything?—”

Al glares. “Anything means anything, you f?—”

“Al,” Wade says sharply. “If you can’t be civil, then stop talking altogether.”

But Owen drinks. And Ander. And…Sheila?

Vivial laughs. “We’ve established that pens don’t count, Sheila.”

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