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Based on the nervous way Jordan clears his throat, he notices it too. “Uh…”
Jordan glances at Mark, who’s sitting next to him. Mark shrugs.
“Truth, I guess,” Jordan decides.
“Did you cheat on Lacie with McKenzie?”
There’s a rumble of whispers around the group. Obviously, this is a well-known rumor or a poorly kept secret.
Jordan rolls his eyes. I think it might be a bit of false bravado, based on the flush to his face. But it could also be attributed to the temperature in here. If I were wearing a bra, I would have taken off my sweatshirt a while ago. It feels like the humidity has saturated everything I’m wearing, and I can only imagine what my hair looks like.
“Lacie and I were already over. And you’re one to talk, Adams.”
I don’t need to look at Holden. I feel him stiffen beside me. “What the fuck does that mean, Eaton?”
“Just, I mean…you know.” Jordan smirks, then glances around the group. Interestingly, no one else seems interested in engaging in the conversation.
I glance around, literally in the middle of Pembrooke High’s inner circle. It appears less leaks out than I thought, since I never heard any rumors about Jordan and Lacie. Or involving my current roommate.
“Knowwhat?” Holden challenges.
Jordan is silent, seemingly trying to figure out how to backtrack under Holden’s glare.
“I think he’s referring to how youplayoff the court.” It takes me a second, and Holden turning to stare at me, to realize thatI’m the one who said that. There are a few muffled chuckles around us, but Holden looks serious. Surprised.
His intensity is focused on me now. I don’t shirk away from it the way Jordan did.
“I’m not a cheater.”
“I know. That requires commitment.”
Someone whistles, long and low. A muscle jumps in Holden’s jaw, but he says nothing in response. Jordan is the one who speaks next, choosing someone to keep the game going. I miss who he selects and whether they pick truth or dare, too fixed on holding Holden’s stare. It seems important, somehow, that I don’t drop eye contact.
He looks away first, without giving me much of a glimpse of what he’s thinking. I play with the ends of my hair, trying to figure out how I can extricate myself and head back upstairs.
I don’t regret coming. Based on the curious glances I’m getting, I might have successfully disabused some ideas about me being the senior class’s goody two shoes. There’s a thrill to that.
“Cassia.”
My head snaps up at the sound of my name. I focus on McKenzie.
“Truth or dare?”
I deliberate for a few seconds, then decide. “Truth.” I think—hope—there’s less that can go wrong there.
“Who was the last guy you kissed?”
At first, I’m relieved she didn’t ask anything more invasive. Then I realize it’s probably because she doesn’t think I’ve done anything more than kissing.
AndthenI realize I was very wrong about truth being the less damaging choice. The honest answer to that question is not one I want to share. I don’t want Holden to know he’s the last guy I kissed.
We haven’t kissed during either of our recent…lapses.
Which means the last guy I kissed was him—nearly four years ago. Admitting that will give Holden the impression I’ve never gotten over him.
While I know there’s some truth to that—more than I’d willingly admit—it’s nothing I wanthimto know. He’ll read into what happened in his driveway and on the couch—think it meant something to me instead of being hormone-driven. That it wasn’t about what we were doing, but rather that it was him I was doing it with.
If I answer truthfully, everyone else here might not knowwhenwe kissed, but they’ll know we have at some point.
