Page 91 of When The Noise Stops

He looked at me. His eyes were wild. His chest was heaving.

"He's not worth it. Let's go."

Ronny was already pulling out her phone.

"I'm calling an Uber."

The man was still talking. Still running his mouth. I almost turned and hit him my damn self.

We got him outside. The cold air hit my face, and I breathed for what felt like the first time in minutes.

Tiny was still shaking.

"I should've hit him," he said.

"No."

"He called her a bitch."

Ronny walked up. Put her hand on Tiny's arm.

"I'm fine," she said, then, "Let's go back to my place. We can get drunk there."

Ronny ordered food and good brown liquor. We sat on her floor, ate takeout, and drank until the city lights blurred through the window.

Tiny told stories. Ronny told stories. I laughed more in those few hours than I had in three months.

"Okay," I said, leaning back against the couch.

"Y'all talk too much. I have a game."

Ronny groaned.

"No."

"Yes."

"I hate your games."

"You love my games," I snickered.

Tiny looked between us.

"What's the game?"

"Truth or dare," I said. "But they can only be R-rated questions and dares."

They both looked at me like I'd lost my mind.

"Absolutely not," Ronny said.

"Scared?"

"Of you and your shenanigans? Yes."

"Who cares. You'll play anyway," I pointed at Tiny.

"Truth or dare?"