Page 65 of Game Night: Truth or Dare
“Yeah,” he said. “Maybe.”
“People who went out to eat, instead of coming back to the dorms to mess around with their worst enemies.”
“What losers.”
“Total losers,” I agreed. “I wonder what they’d think if we walked in together.”
“They’d probably be like, ‘Wow. Those guys look like they just had mind-blowing sex.’”
I laughed. “Probably!”
“Then they’d be like, ‘And it looks like it helped Oliver Parting loosen up a bit. He’s always got this rotten scowl on his face, but tonight, he actually seems to be having a nice time!”
“Hey!” I jabbed my elbow backwards, catching him in the ribs. “Or maybe they’d be like, ‘I guess Ben Quinn can’t be such a boring old man after all, if he’s cool enough for Oliver to hang out with.”
“That’s it,” he said. “That’s what they’d say for sure. Everyone loves you the best.”
It wasn’t true. Literally everyone on campus—including me, now—thought Ben was pretty great. I was…controversial. I liked that he said it, though.
After a few minutes, I spoke again, “For real, though. Do you want to go.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
“It means we’ll have to get up.”
“And get dressed.”
“Oh! That reminds me…” I wriggled out of his grip, loosening his hold just enough so I could turn around and face him. “Do you want me to run upstairs for my makeup kit? I can cover up the…” I reached out and touched the spot on his neck, that plum-purple bruise I’d raised on a dare. God bless Taylor Harris, I thought. If it weren’t for that blockhead, none of this would have happened.
Ben looked thoughtful for a second, letting his eyes drift as he weighed his options. “Why don’t you bring it by tomorrow. Today. You know what I mean. Why don’t you come by with it later.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Maybe we can hang out. You know. Putting on makeup and kissing.”
“Like bros do.”
“Exactly like bros do,” he said, and leaned in to rub the tip of his nose against mine.
And suddenly the night was perfect. Perfect because I knew there would be more of them.
“Sounds good to me.” Even though we’d be leaving soon, I snuggled against his body. “And, like you said, there’s a good chance that anyone at the Box Car tonight already knows how you got your hickey.”
“But…” He let go of my waist, raising himself up on one elbow. “…they’ll be mighty curious how you got yours.”
“How I got…?”
Before I could finish the question, his fingers were tangling in my hair, pulling, craning my head back and exposing my throat. This close to him, all I could see were his bright brown eyes, his white teeth, and the wine-dark stain I’d left on his skin.
“You ready?”
I could stop him. If I told him no, he wouldn’t do it, and things would still be okay between us.
But fair was fair.
Besides, I realized, I wanted it.
I nodded. “Yeah. Give it to me.”
