Page 48 of The First Kind of Love
“I’m not really a huge fan of it either, but my friends love to hold kickbacks, so I go to be supportive. My college experience was pretty lackluster. Everyone around me seemed to have so much going on in their life, and then there was me, who repeated the same day over and over.”
I glance up at Fulton, and the machine-gun rattle of my heart isn’t because of the night’s festivities. I always knew that he and I were cut from the same cloth. I like that we’re so similar—it makes me feel understood in a way I’ve never felt before.
“I don’t think that’s lackluster. I think that’s perfect. People always have such a judgmental view on comfort.”
“I guess I never looked at it that way,” he says with a noncommittal shrug of his shoulders.
The groan of the door pulls me from our conversation, transporting me into the loud and colorful feng shui of Hayesand Aeris’ suite. I can already see the rest of the crew behind Aeris’ short stature, and she yanks both me and Fulton into a hug that knocks the wind right out of me.
“You guys made it!” she squeals, jumping up and down and smelling like hard liquor.
“Thank…you…for…the…invite,” I wheeze, feeling my spine crack before Aeris releases us from her boa constrictor clutch.
She’s dressed in a beautiful, baby-pink dress that cuts off right above her knees, and the top of it is a built-in bustier covered in ruched fabric. Her hair is styled in a half updo, with a giant pink bow nestled in her wavy curls.
“What are you guys drinking tonight? Vodka? Beer? Wine? Whiskey? We even have some Perrier if you want something nonalcoholic.” She’s all smiles and painted cheeks, blinding us with that soon-to-be-bride glow that everyone always talks about.
A chuckle sounds from behind Aeris, gravelly like the rev of a chainsaw. “Stacks, let them sit down first.”
Hayes’ arms encase her waist as he hugs her from behind, having to bend down to press a kiss to her neck seeing as he’s over a foot taller than her.
“Right, sorry! My brain’s all over the place right now. I’ve had”—she holds up her fingers to count, but frowns after she seemingly loses her place—“a lot of drinks!”
“The game’s going to start soon,” Hayes tells us, nodding to whatever is transpiring over in the cult-like circle on the carpet. “I need to get some food in her. You guys are welcome to anything in the fridge.”
Aeris is suddenly slammed with a burst of energy. “Ooh, should we order room service? What do you guys like? Italian? Mexican? Chinese?”
She turns around in Hayes’ embrace, then proceeds to yell directly into his ear, “DO YOU GUYS WANT SOME MOZZARELLA STICKS?”
He flinches. “I’ll buy you the entire menu if you use your inside voice.”
Aeris giggles and clamps her hands over her mouth, nodding obediently despite the mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Okay,” she whispers through the slats of her fingers.
Hayes begins ferrying Aeris off toward the bedroom, and Fulton pales. “Wait, which game is it, Hayes? WHICH GAME?”
“Get your sexy little butts over here and sit down!” Josie shouts from the kumbaya circle.
Oh, God. What have we gotten ourselves into? I think this decision is somehow worse than when I decided to cut my own bangs before graduation in eighth grade.
Fulton and I both walk over like we’re navigating a forest floor of hidden bear traps, and the moment my gaze settles on the so-called “game,” having my leg chewed off by giant metal teeth doesn’t seem like such a bad thing. Because not only is this party game one of the worst games in existence, but it’s about to be my reality for the next four hours.
An empty beer bottle sits dauntingly in the middle of the group, uncoincidentally positioned so that the neck of it faces us. To make matters worse, underneath it is a multicolored wheel containing eight slices and eight corresponding games written in the margins.
Fulton’s rooted to the ground in paralyzing fear, and it’s contagious. “We’re playing Spin the Bottle?!”
“A more advanced version,” Gage replies.
My brain lags while I try to take everything in, denying me the breath that’s needed to disintegrate the tightness in my chest. When I get a closer look, I notice that two of the dares require kissing another person.
“Aren’t you all taken?” I throw out weakly.
Gage leans forward and winks. “We’re equal opportunists.”
Oh.
Oh, no.
“But nobody has to do anything they don’t want to,” Lila adds, looking flawless in her black leather corset and miniskirt, both of which flaunt her photoshopped-looking assets.
