Isn’t he cute helping out?
Focus, for fuck’s sake! A psycho is trying to interrogate you.
“A sip or maybe a raise of your glass then. I’m sure you have questions for us, too.” Dean pushes again.
Nope. No questions. I’ve been following all of you for months.
I want to ask about Mason, but I can’t do that, can I?
I look back at Atlas, and the way he nods makes it clear he has my back either way. But Dean will keep poking. Better to wage this war on what I now consider my territory.
“Okay. I’ll play.”
The corner of Dean’s lips pulls to the side.
Take that stupid smirk off! I’ll give out only as much as I want to.
“Who’s ‘it’ today?” Dean asks.
“I am,” Atlas states.
“It?” I ask, not following what they mean.
Dean puts a piece of cake on his plate while Atlas leans closer to me.
“The sober one. At least one of us always stays sober.”
“Never have I ever lied about who I am,” Dean starts, while Atlas brings a bottle of whiskey and shots to the table. My boyfriend takes an empty one, letting Carter pour alcohol into the rest.
Looking around, no one raises their glass, and I get the urge to do the same, to lie. But when I glance at Atlas beside me, his eyes begging for the truth, my resolve to deceive falters. It’s unwise to admit to that in particular, straight up foolish, but the desire not to lie to my boyfriend makes me raise the shot in the air while my eyes never leave his.
Weighing my options that are no more when the drink is already in the air, I know I’ve made the correct choice. None of them is a fool, and they probably suspect the information Link dug out is the truth with its throat cut open and parts missing, so starting off the game with dishonesty was not preferable.
The weight of the lie off my shoulders, and the game asking no deeper questions, lets my mind clear enough to realize there are others around who are less than truthful.
“Why the fuck haven’t you two taken a shot?” I fling a finger between the twins.
Connor feigns insult with a palm over his heart and a silent theatrical gasp attached to it.
“Technically, we haven’t lied about our identities to anyone.” Carter clears the air, going with a loophole around the question.
“Oh, really?!” My eyes narrow at them when I decide to take the wheel of the game. “Never have I ever let a girl think I’m someone else.” I smile when the amusement falls from Carter’s face. “Is that a more accurate assertion of what you’re doing?”
Both of them raise their glasses, and while Carter’s gaze doesn’t land on me, Connor owns his deeds with a flash of a grin.
“Well played,” Connor says. “Never have I ever choked someone while getting them off,” he shoots right back, and my attention darts to Atlas.
“What? I haven’t said a thing,” Atlas protests, wrapping an arm around my waist like getting closer to me would make me stop eye-stabbing him.
I raise my glass, and Atlas does too, but Dean follows suit, which draws a booming laugh out of Connor.
“Never have I ever stolen a car,” Atlas joins in, sealing the words with a kiss on my cheek.
Not a single shot stays untouched, easing me into raising my own.
“Oh, shit! You too, Principessa?” Connor sounds like an excited child with this question and the cute nickname attached to it, brought by my Italian roots, which he found out about. It turns out he knows Italian along with four other languages. Can’t say I’m not surprised by the fact.
“Her stealing is not even the most exciting part of the story,” Atlas adds.
