I give a small nod before taking a large gulp of beer. Why does Shane always sound like an asshole even when he’s actually being nice?
On the TV, shadowy figures are creeping through a dark building. “What are you watching?” Just as I ask, my phone, sitting on the chair next to me, vibrates conspicuously during a quiet moment in their program. Instead of answering my question, all four men look at me as I check my screen, no doubt wondering who’s texting me at midnight, and probably assuming it’s a guy. I wish it was.
I scroll down, trying to keep my face neutral as I skim the ridiculously long paragraphs, more of the same nonsense that I received earlier.
When I look up, Shane and Devin are still watching me, while Khalil and Marcos have turned their attention back to the TV. I drop my phone down beside me and look back at Shane. “What’s this?” I repeat, tipping my head toward the screen.
“Some ghost hunter shit.” He doesn’t seem too interested in it, and glances at me repeatedly while I drink my beer and try my best to get into the program, happy for any kind of diversion from my real life.
No more than ten minutes later, my phone hums again. I should just turn it off, but some part of me can’t help myself. The message is so long, it looks like she’s been typing ever since she sent the last one.
Fuck my life. When it rains, it pours.
Unfortunately, I get so distracted by what I’m reading that I forget my surroundings and mutter, “Goddamnit,” a little too loudly.
“What’s going on?” Shane asks.
Startled, I find Shane frowning, and Devin and Khalil looking concerned. Marcos is watching me too. “It’s nothing. Nothing at all. Can I have another beer, please?”
Devin moves to get up, but Khalil stands first, telling him he’ll get it. I debate following Khalil into the kitchen but am afraid it would seem suspicious to the other guys, so instead, I sit and wait, putting my phone in airplane mode before I set it down again.
“What’d I miss?” Khalil asks when he returns. It’s been less than a minute, but the show does seem to be at some sort of spooky climax, or else it’s just building up to a pre-commercial cliffhanger.
“You missed some wannabe actors pretending they’re hunting for ghosts, and some editors adding in a lot of filmy special effects,” Shane says in a bored monotone.
Marcos lets out a single laugh, shocking the hell out of me.
“When we watch action movies, I don’t point out how ridiculously unrealistic the stunts are,” Khalil says.
“That’s different,” Shane retorts, raising his voice.
Devin grabs the remote from the coffee table. “Guys, are we going to watch this or not?”
“Just turn it off,” Khalil says with a frustrated sigh.
I take another large swig of my beer, wanting to retreat to the guest room but not wanting them to know their bickering is irritating me. It’s just stupid stuff, so I don’t know why it’s affecting me, but it is.
After another minute of back and forth, Devin clicks off the television and the room is momentarily quiet.
Marcos, who had completely stayed out of the conversation aside from the one laugh, asks, “Now what?”
An odd look crosses Shane’s face before he grins and says, “Let’s play truth or dare.”
21
Who’s better?
“Don’t you all need to go to bed so you can get up early?” I ask.
“I’m not tired,” Shane says, and there’s that look again — devious? playful? — along with a hint of something I do recognize — lust.
I should go straight up to bed, because only trouble lies ahead, but it’s been several hours since I ate anything, and the beer has already clouded my judgment. Besides, my inner devil reasons, tonight has brought its share of bad news and problems; a fun little game with four hot guys might be just the thing I need right now. My inner angel must be asleep at the wheel, because I take another drink from the bottle and stay put.
“Truth or dare?” Khalil asks, leveling his gaze at Shane.
Shane puffs out his chest. “Dare.” And though I imagine he’s hoping for, or expecting, some sort of physical challenge, that’s not what he gets.
After a moment of thought, Khalil says, “Do a shot of pickle juice.”
Shane sneers in disgust. “You know I hate pickles.”
A grin spreads across Khalil’s face as he gets up. “Yep.”
Khalil returns a minute later with a small glass filled nearly to the rim. I thought it would be green, but the liquid looks surprisingly like pee. “It’s good for you, actually,” Khalil says as he hands it to Shane. “Filled with electrolytes and probiotics.”
“Yeah, that’s great,” Shane mutters, grimacing. With no delay, he downs the shot and hands the empty glass back to Khalil, who sets it on the table. “My turn,” Shane says, his eyes immediately zeroing in on me, sending tingles up my spine. “Becca, truth or dare?”