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“Morning.” I hold out the milk. “Found your note.”
She wrinkles her nose and shakes her head.
“Still not talking to me?”
She shakes her head again, but a tiny smile lifts one side of her mouth.
I set the milk on the counter and move close enough to smell her shower gel. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to be around more. We’ll hang out. Do stuff together.” I point at the living room. “And we’ll start by making this place yours.”
Her eyes brighten and I know I’ve said the right thing.
Before she can say anything, a knock pounds on the front door. “Morning wake up call.” Nicholas sounds way too chipper.
He’s up to something.
Trina hurries over and opens the front door, letting the producer inside with a smile. “Let me guess, another challenge.” She pops a fist onto her hip. “Liam just offered to take me shopping. This better be a good one. With a money reward involved.”
Okay, I didn’t offer to take her shopping, but if that’s what she wants, I’m game.
Nicholas hands Trina a stack of notecards. “This is our version of Truth or Dare. We can’t ask you to perform any crazy stunts, so it’s a bit tame.” He wiggles his eyebrows and grins. “But we think you’ll like it.”
Trina glances down.
Nicholas slaps a hand over the cards. “Uh, uh, uh. No peeking. You’re going to sit at the kitchen table with the cards between you. Whoever goes first flips over the top card. If they refuse to perform the dare, then the opposing player gets to demand a truth from them.” He claps. “Easy peasy. Now. I brought breakfast, and you’re welcome. Let’s go. No time to lose.”
A trio of caterers rush in with their arms loaded. They arrange covered plates on the kitchen table and hurry out again.
I’ll never get used to that.
Nicholas arranges us at the table, with me sitting on one side and Trina on the other so the cameras can catch our expressions. “I’ll buzz your phone when we’re ready. Until then, sit tight.”
Ugh. I’m getting tired of all the hurry up and wait garbage. I’m hungry and getting cranky.
Trina sits back and pushes her palms against the edge of the table. “What kind of dares do you think they gave us?”
I shrug. “Can’t be too bad.”
“I don’t know.” A tense look crosses her face. “What’s more fun, watching us complete mini challenges or listening to us reveal deep, dark secrets?”
“What if we make a promise not to delve into any of that stuff?” The cameras are rolling, but I’m sure they’ll cut this part out. No way they’d want the audience to know we’re intentionally botching the game. “Like I won’t ask you about your article.”
Her lips press into a thin line. “Fine.”
My phone buzzes with Nicholas’s text. I nod at Trina, who grabs one of the plates the caterers left behind and peels back the wrapping to reveal a plate of bacon. We each grab a slice and she flips over the first card.
Her chewing slows and she reads out loud, “Eat a dried grasshopper.” She glances around. “Where am I supposed to get a dried grasshopper?”
I eye the array of plates. “I think they brought us more than food.” I lift another cover and sure enough, there’s an assortment of silver bags with tiny, white labels. “Here it is.” I grab the bag and hold it out to her.
She grimaces. “Truth.”
“When you were six, what did you want to be when you grew up?” I ask.
She barely even hesitates. “An astronaut. But then I found out you have to eat all sorts of weird foods out of metal tubes and I changed my mind.” She stares pointedly at the bag in my hand.
I laugh and toss it aside, then grab the next card. “Dance the Macarena.” I flip the card toward Trina. “Let’s do it.” I stand, scraping my chair back.
Music fills the room. “Man, this brings back memories.” I work my way through the motions while singing along.
