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“Lie.”
“No, wait,” she cried. “You confused me. I meant I’d marry Alexander. I’d kill Sebastian, and I’d fuck Theron.” Her hand jerked, spasming with pain.
“Lie.”
“No!”
Wow, this girl really didn’t like to admit defeat.
“I’d marry Theron, fuck Alexander, and fuck— Fine!” She flung the stone, making half the crowd duck.
It was my friends’ turn to high-five me.
“As punishment for saying you’d kill them, give Sebastian and Theron a little smooch.” I puckered my lips, blowing kisses at her reddening face. “Make it all better.”
“Leave me out of it,” Theron muttered.
“I’d kill you, Eirene trash.” Sirena didn’t take her eyes off me as she drained her drink. “Without hesitating.”
“Keep your fantasies to yourself— Actually, don’t. My next question is, what’s your deep, darkest sexual fantasy?”
“Oooh, yeah,” someone hooted. “Finally, this is getting good.”
Sirena’s nostrils flared. She didn’t make a move for the verity stone Theron held out to her. “No.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said no. That question is beneath the dignity of Hera’s heir. I will not answer it.” That nose couldn’t be up higher in the air if she sprouted wings and flew. “Ask another one.”
I looked at Theron in disbelief. “Is she for real? Can she just refuse like that?”
“Yeah. Cowards do it all the time.”
“Watch yourself, Zervas.” Sirena shot to her feet. “There’s a difference between cowardice and dignity. This freak already admitted to having an obsessive, deluded sexual crush on me—”
“That was a lie!”
“—I’m not about to feed into her fixation. Why is she so interested in my sex life anyway? Disgusting.”
“You’re so right, Sirena,” Cora agreed. “So nasty to ask a woman that in front of all these people.”
“Gross.”
“Freak.”
“Stalker.”
My jaw clenched with every insult her cronies threw at me. “This obvious move to try and force me to change the question would work if you hadn’t literally started the game by asking creepy questions about my sex life,” I said, calm as could be. “Either answer the question or admit you’re a coward who can dish it out but can’t take it.”
The look she gave me would’ve exploded my head if she had the power. I was lucky she didn’t. Looking from me, to the crowd, and back to me, I saw her realize that I wasn’t going to back down.
“Okay, Sisyphean.” She snatched the verity stone. “My deepest fantasy is to participate in an orgy, and you’re not getting any more details than that, you deluded freak. So?” She shook the stone. “Am I lying?”
I studied her. There was a whole lot of hatred and rage, but— “Truth.”
Thus began the most intense, harrowing drinking game of my entire life. I thought I’d been sweating, having hundreds of pairs of eyes follow me through the streets of New York City, knowing they were all whispering about the crazy teenage axe murderer.
The game got more and more vicious and personal the deeper we went. The party had all but stopped. No one cared about skinny-dipping, dancing, or drinking when the future queen of Olympia was getting her ass handed to her by a Sisyphean nobody.
