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Well, the plot thickens. Why do I sound like some silly contestant in a game show? Oh, right. Because I am one. I nearly face-palmed myself for the annoying thoughts. Chalk it up to this weird situation and the fact “Jack London-Hughes” is there.
“Mya,” Mason finally revealed, and no lie detected. But why’d his answer have Oliver mumble a curse under his breath?
“Something off to you?” Lucy whispered as Mason traded places with Oliver in the hot seat.
“You’re just asking me that?” I almost laughed, but I kept the outburst to myself that time.
Oliver seemed to get off much easier than both Mason and Carter in the question department. He handled each question with ease, like he was plucking answers from the sky without a worry in the world.
Then Shannon hit him with what felt like the unavoidable million-dollar question. The one that broke each man in some way, shape, or form: “Who do you want to have sex with?”
Oliver dragged a palm down his face and said, “Gwen.”
Buzz.
He peeled his shirt over his head, revealing ink on his shoulder that went down his bicep.
“Try again. Remember, you lose everything aside from your underwear, and more importantly double the points, if you lie again,” she reminded him.
Oliver closed his eyes and murmured a name too low to hear.
“What was that?” Shannon asked.
Another mumble from him.
“I can’t hear you,” she was quick to snap out.
Oliver’s eyes flashed open as he rasped, “Mya. I’d fuck Mya.”
No buzzing. But Mya’s face went pale at his words.
Damn, this all felt really personal. And I even got goose bumps at the exchange.
Oliver stood abruptly, knocking the chair over. Without so much as a word, he walked over to the pool area, and his muscles flexed with every step.
“Now this is starting to feel like a dating show,” Stephen piped up. “Last male contestant on this team is Jack.”
Oh geez.
Jack grabbed the chair from the ground and took a seat. His palms landed on the table before him, and he kept his focus on the woman across from him.
“Have you ever met anyone here before tonight?” was a question I sure as hell hadn’t expected, and Jack’s gaze flew my way.
But the second he said, “No, I don’t know anyone here. Tonight is my first time meeting everyone,” and the thing didn’t buzz at his lie . . . I knew I was in even more trouble than I thought.
I barely heard his answers to any of the other questions. Almost missed the fact he’d said he’d been a Green Beret. But what if that was a lie, too? How could I possibly know what to believe?
Who are you, Jack London-Hughes?
“Who was your best kiss?” That question rocked me back to reality.
Jack looked my way. “Charlotte.”
No buzz.
“Who do you not want to have sex with?”
“Gwen,” he quickly remarked, and when I peeked at Gwen, she didn’t look remotely offended.
