When the song reaches its last, spoken lines: “Did he make you come three times? Yeah, didn’t think so,” the party yells the line, yet again. And as they do, my drunk boyfriend bends down and motorboats my rack on the outside of my dress, claiming his prize. Making it clear he made me come three times, and nobody else. In response, I throw my head back and laugh hysterically, reveling in the fact that Savage feels every bit as unleashed and in love in this moment as I do. I’m in love with Adrian Savage. Riding a true love high. And I’m positive, even when the booze that’s coursing through my bloodstream is gone, I’ll never ever come down.
[Click here if you’d like to listen to Fugitive Summer’s number one hit, “Hate Sex High” again.]
When “Hate Sex High” ends, and Savage is done motorboating me, he lays a deep kiss on me, making the party cheer and whoop. As his tongue slides into my mouth, I slide my arms around him and devour him, the whiskey on his tongue reminding me of our first kiss at Reed’s house.
“I have a birthday present for you,” Savage says, grabbing my hand. “Come on.”
I hold my breath as he leads me through the crowd. Is he going to propose? I can’t believe it, but that’s the first thing that’s popped into my head. That’s a crazy thought, right? An unthinkable one. But I’ve thought it, distinctly, and now, as Savage leads me through the crowded room to parts unknown, I can’t stop thinking it . . . and hoping for it.
When Savage stops, we’re standing in front of Kendrick and Kai. He says, “Guys, I demand we let Laila play ‘Birthday Truth or Dare’ tonight. I won’t take no for an answer.”
Oh.
Well.
That’s incredibly sweet. And I should be thrilled. It’s a romantic gesture, considering our conversation this morning while seated at the piano. But I can’t help feeling vaguely disappointed, even though there’s no logical reason for me to feel that way. Savage once told me he’s not boyfriend material. So, come on, Laila, give the guy credit for how far he’s come and leave it at that.
In response to Savage’s “demand,” Kendrick and Kai look at each other like, “What the fuck?”
Kai says, “If we say yes to Laila, then Ruby and Titus will never forgive us. Especially Ruby.” He looks at me. “It’s nothing personal, Laila, but we’ve never let anyone but the three of us play the game.”
“Oh, I understand,” I reply.
But Savage is determined. A dog with a bone. “You have to admit we’ve been running out of good ideas for a while now,” he says. “The best Kai could come up with for me last time was a naked swan dive into a swimming pool? I mean, come on! The whole world had already seen my dong by then. And yet that’s what he thought would humiliate me? Please. I vote we invite not only Laila, but Ruby and Titus into our game, too, from now on. But if you can’t handle that much change, all at once, then at least let the three of them in for one year, as a test-run, to see if it makes the game more fun. If not, they’re out again. We’ll make that clear to them up front so there are no hard feelings if we wind up booting them.”
Kendrick and Kai consult briefly, before declaring their verdict.
“Okay, but only this year on a probationary basis,” Kai says. He looks sternly at me, “You understand the terms? This is a one-shot deal, for now.”
“So you’d better make it good,” Kendrick adds with a wink.
“I understand. Thank you!” I whoop and do a happy dance. “Are there any rules or limitations?”
“Hold up,” Kai says. “Let’s get Ruby and Titus over here to give them the good news. Ruby’s been demanding to be included for years.”
Kendrick retrieves the twins and brings them to our group. And when Ruby hears the good news, she loses her ever-loving mind, like she’s just found out Fugitive Summer has been nominated for a Grammy—which, by the way, is something I predict is in Fugitive Summer’s near future. When she finishes hugging all three of her benefactors, Ruby hugs me and we laugh and squeal together, while Titus looks at us like we’re lunatics. Obviously, Ruby and I are overreacting here. But what I’ve learned in life is this: overreacting to good news is a whole lot more fun than underreacting to it. Plus, we’re drunk and happy and surrounded by a whole lot of happy people, so why not wring every drop of fun out of the situation?
“Okay, Laila, let me tell you the rules,” Kai says. “Ruby, Titus, listen up. You won’t be performing dares tonight. You’ll be admitted into the game, officially, on your birthday.”