Page 25 of The Games We Play

“Fine, just spin,” Nathan finally agrees impatiently, then tips his chin at the bottle while he looks at me.

I glance around the circle once again then peek up at Seamus. His jaw is tight and he’s completely uncomfortable, looking anywhere but at me.

I’m completely frozen, nervous, and my body is in full shut down mode.

Wes whistles, ripping me out of my own head, and my eyes snap over in his direction.

He wiggles his eyebrows, and just his expression makes bile rise to my throat.

I take a deep breath and finally lean in to grab the bottle, but I can’t, I just can’t. I pull back again and palm my face. “Oh my God, I can’t do this.”

“Mimi, do it…you have to follow through,” Wes says, matter of fact.

“You can’t back out, we didn’t,” Nathan reminds me, and the entire group.

My cheeks puff out as I release a long breath.

I reach in, flick the bottle aggressively, and it spins fast. The air around all of us is thick, and no one is breathing. It’s like we’re all frozen in time and the bottle is the only thing in our subspace that moves. After a lifetime, it finally begins to slow, slow, slow, and stops.

Pointing directly at Shane.

11

SEAMUS

17 years old

“Shit,” Mimi whispers, echoing my thoughts as the bottle lands on some random guy I’ve never seen before.

She looks over at him as he looks wide-eyed back at her. He glances around the room, a few hacklers and people hollering, while Nathan is running his hands through his hair, pissed it didn’t land on him.

I’ve only been around Nathan twice since camp started, and both times I want to choke him with his own tongue.

He’s a prick, an entitled rich kid who bullies others around him. This version of spin the bottle is the exact reason I hate other people and have hardly any friends. Because it’s stupid shit like this that leaves people with long lasting trauma.

“Shane, Shane, Shane,” a couple of guys chant. Shane’s face shifts into amusement as he stares back at Mimi. They both stand at the same time, still watching each other move, then Shane reaches out, grabs her hand, and leads her down the hallway.

My fists clench at my sides and I’m fucking burning inside. Fury rolls over my body like lava and my face heats as I go tostand and take a step in that direction, before forcefully stopping myself.

Mimi glances back over her shoulder at me, her lips in a tight, timid smile with eyes full of guilt.

I have no claim on her, no reason to feel the way I do. Still, I hate this. I hate this more for her than I do for myself.

They turn into the bathroom and a resounding click is all that’s left in the now empty hallway.

“That’s bullshit,” Wes says, flailing his arm in their direction.

He grabs the bottle and starts spinning it. It stops, and he repeats.

“What are you doing, man?” Nathan asks.

“Practicing. I’m going to time this fucking perfectly so it lands on Mimi when it’s my turn.”

“Knock it off.” I flick the bottle off the wooden slab as it falls onto the floor. Wes stands, instantly getting in my face.

“Fuck you, Semen. You shouldn’t even be here.” Spit mists over my face. I stand my ground, staring back at him, unmoving.

Do not swing. Do not punch him. You are not your father.

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