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“Not sure. The staff really like American culture. Probably just wanted to do a themed dinner for us.”
“Can we do Cuban food one night?” Olive perks up, and we all turn our heads to her. “I like Cuban food.” She shrugs, a little less enthused at defending herself.
“I’ll see what I can do about that.” Adrik simply says, and she seems pleased with the answer, and I know I am. Anything is better than fighting with Adrik because no one ever really wins— no one except him. And I can admit that now, at least while I’m not cross with him.
After dinner, I’m so full I think I could fall right back to sleep, even though I definitely slept most of the day and I have a bad habit of going to bed late. Is it a habit if it’s just how you’re wired? I shake my head, stacking my plate on top of Adrik’s as some maids roll in mattresses adorned with gold comforters and fluffy pillows that make me even sleepier just looking at them. They lay them two-by-two in the space between the front row of the theater and the screen. Then, just like that, they’re gone, doors shut, locking us in for the night— or longer.
“So, what movie should we watch now?” Olive asks, looking between us.
“What if we do something else?” Adrik asks, blue eyes flicking to me and making my heart jump.
“Like what?” Olive asks, and he takes his gaze from mine to hers.
“Like playing a game.” His eyes have that spark in them that always means trouble.
I sit up straighter, searching his annoyingly flawless face before asking something I know will only lead to trouble, but I can't stop myself. “What sort of game?”
19
ADRIK
“I’ll be right back.” I stand up, jogging away from the group.
“You can’t leave, Adrik!” Barth’s burly voice calls, and I wave a hand behind me dismissively as I turn the corner and open the door to the mini kitchen just under the slope of theater seats.
I hope it’s still here— the game I’m after. It’s been years since I’ve played it with my brothers, and I just hope through the decades it hasn’t gotten misplaced or lost. I jog to the shelf above the popcorn machine, reaching it with ease, and remembering as I do how often as a child I needed a step stool to climb the counters and grab it. I slide my hand further back than I can see after no success, and then the tip of my fingers touch exactly what I’m looking for. After pulling the box down, I dust the top of it off with my sleeve.
“Hey, Barth said we should—“ Espie’s voice alarms me a little, but I don’t show it, tilting my head at her faltering in the doorway. She really is incredibly hot, I trail her body in the silvery pajamas she’s been wearing, and her cheeks go a little flushed when she can see what I’m doing.
“Barth?” I help her loss of words, and I think I see her swallow as she nods.
“Yeah, he said you shouldn’t be so close to the exit. The lights from the kitchen will shine under the door.
“It’s not that bright in here.” I point to the rectangular LED lights lining the base of the black wood walls and black carpeted floors.
“I know, he’s just—“
“Doing his job.” I offer her a crooked, lip-pressed smile that makes her suck in her upper lip with a tick of her head. “Come on.” I lift my chin to the hallway as I near her, and she turns around, glancing back at the box in my hands as we walk back to the group.
“What is it?” She whispers, eyes smiling up at me and for the first time, fucking with her is the last thing I want to do… Well, not the last thing, but certainly not the first thing on my mind. This look, that grin, the way she’s been pleasant all afternoon like we didn’t fight for most of the earlier parts of the day— it’s doing something strange to me, something I’m uneasy about. It’s that feeling you get when you’re driving around and around to the top of a mountain with no guardrail.
Sick and thrilling and expectant.
“Not telling yet.” I whisper back with a grin, and she scrunches her nose. But not in the way she normally does. It's this cute way that’s as if to say she’s just happy to be here. And honestly, I fucking hate that I love the thrill that gives me.
“Okay, Adrik, what’s this game you risked our lives to get?” Olive chimes in with this know-it-all attitude that pretty much defines Olive. At least what I know about her.
“I didn’t risk anything. Need I remind you, we have no intruders… Like zero.”
“Like,” she mocks. “We don’t know that for sure.”
I blink at her once, swear I’d say something far more cutting if she weren’t Espie’s sister, and force out a blunt response. “We actually do. I have my phone on and ready for any alarm or warning.”
She raises a finger to say something else, but Espie points to her warningly, shaking her head. I flash her a grin when she shuts up, and she sticks her tongue out at me.
“So…” Espie turns her face towards me after we sit back down in a small circle on the floor.
“So… this is a game I affectionately named myself called, Beat the Bullet.”
