Lily sits on my lap, her skin coated in a sheen of sweat from dancing earlier. It was a really good time. I missed it more than I realized.
I hold her to my chest, satisfied with the fact that we can’t disappear and ditch our friends and family. This, right here, feels close to perfect.
Sam cautiously glances at all the locals who snap pictures of us, some even film us from their bar stools. “Can we play this game some other time?” he asks us. “I really don’t want to have to call Fizzle’s publicists in the morning to clean up whatever happens tonight.”
He’s the head marketing guy or whatever at Fizzle. “Sammy,” I say with the tilt of my head, “I get that being a chaperone is so deep within your pores that no facial strips can remove it, but we’re not ten.”
Connor rephrases, “We’re all used to being filmed. Some more intimately than others.” His voice is conversational, not bitter. I’d be causing hell if sex tapes of Lily and me were circulating through p**n sites. I get that Connor has taken the publicity to his advantage, but this type of invasion of privacy has to be eating at Rose. It’s been over a year since the first tape was released, and last I heard, there are now five online.
At his comment, Rose tenses and crosses her arms. “No one is allowed to mention the sex tapes until I can have a glass of wine.” Her head whips to her husband. “That includes you.”
“I was making a point,” Connor says casually.
“Make it when I’m not in the room,” she retorts.
They start bickering in French, and I tune them out. At the other end of my couch, Ryke slings his arm around Daisy’s waist and she rests her cheek on his shoulder. When Lily and I finished dancing, both Daisy and Ryke were missing. Poppy explained how they snuck off to the bathroom. To f**k.
Clearly.
It’s not as uncomfortable with them returning as I thought it’d be. Maybe because they’re not on top of each other—like Lily is with me. We’ll forever take the PDA championship title, I realize. What’s scary is that when we were just friends, we were always touching too.
It’s hardwired into us. I pull her further against my chest, and her breathing shallows. I watch her take a trained inhale and exhale to control her urges. I rub her arm in comfort. She’s doing well.
Sam clutches a vodka soda. “Let’s just try to keep it classy.”
Connor says, “Truth or dare by nature is juvenile. If you’re looking for a posh game, we should break out chess or Scrabble. However, you won’t beat my wife and you certainly won’t beat me. So the level of fun, for you, isn’t that high. I’d enjoy it though.” He grins.
I whistle at his conceited statement, but I’m smiling.
“Truth or dare is fine as long as no one takes it too far,” Sam says, his gaze landing on me.
I give him an invasive glare. Seriously, he doesn’t need to treat me like I’m twelve-years-old. I swallow a biting retort that’s about as nasty as what I said to the bartender. I don’t want to put Sam on that level, but he’s beginning to irritate me.
Connor fills the silence. “Some zebras can’t change their stripes.”
“Cobalt, are you calling me a f**king zebra?” Ryke interjects.
“Don’t be offended,” Connor says, not denying it. “Almost every animal plays a role in the kingdom. Even zebras.”
“Yeah?” Ryke says roughly. “If I’m a f**king zebra, then what’s my brother?”
Connor’s deep blue eyes pin to me, full of clarity, something I desperately crave. His face becomes a complacent blank slate. “What animal do you want to be, darling?”
My eyebrows rise. “I have a choice?” Something tells me that he would’ve picked an inferior animal if he was truthful. He tiptoes around me. It’s old knowledge by now. My muscles tighten, wishing he just called me a zebra like my brother.
Ryke groans. “I call f**king bullshit on this.”
“It’s called favoritism,” Rose chimes in, her hand clasped firmly in her husband’s.
“Favoritism is bullshit,” Ryke says.
“I agree,” Rose announces. Though infrequent, I hate when she teams up with Ryke. It’s like two bulldozers headed in your direction. Having them on opposite sides is easier.
“Bullshit aside,” Connor says, passing through this discussion quickly. “Who’s starting the game?”
“Lily should,” Poppy says, gesturing to Lil who’s been really quiet for the most part. In group discussions, she’s more like the observer, not as loud or as brash. Her cheeks flush red at all the attention placed on her.
“Uhh…” Her head whips around, trying to find a person to ask a question to. Her back straightens as she grows more confident with her thoughts.
“Rose,” she says.
Rose crosses her ankles, alert like she’s about to answer some collegiate quiz question. Of course she’s happy to be participating.
“Truth or dare?”
“Truth,” she says instantly.
“Unsurprising,” I add, just to tick her off.
Her yellow-green eyes drill into me.
“Umm,” Lily says, and her face just keeps reddening and reddening. I can’t read her mind, but I have a suspicion what’s rolling around her head.
I whisper in her ear, “It can be a sex question.” That’s the point of this game. It gets dirty.
Lily’s eyes flicker nervously to Sam. Yeah, she’s known him for a long time. It’s like speaking to an older brother, slightly estranged since you don’t know his likes and dislikes or the other side of his family. What makes it more awkward: he’s close with Greg since they work together.
Sam checks his phone, as though he’s hoping this will end soon so none of us embarrass ourselves.
“Oh noble Captain America,” I say dryly, “cover your ears.”
Sam pockets his cell. “Why?”
“You’re like her older brother, and you work with her dad.”
Confusion blankets his face.
Jesus Christ. “Do I need to spell it out for you?”
Still blank.
“S…E…” I start.
“Got it,” he says, avoiding Lily’s gaze. “Should she really be talking about that at all?”
Lily’s chest collapses.
“Yes,” I snap. “She’s a human being and human beings ask sex questions during truth or dare.”
Sam shakes his head at me. “I don’t.”
“Then you must be a reptile, Sammy. Go slither away.”
“Lo,” Poppy cuts in. “Be nice.”
“Yes, Mother,” I say back. I look at Sam. “Father. Are you going to ground me too?”
Sam is as unamused as me. I won’t let anyone shame Lily. I get that he’s confused about her sex addiction. Most people are, but their doubts plant something in her head. He can say that shit out loud when she’s not around. Fine. But she’s not in a good place to be welcoming comments from the f**king peanut gallery.
Daisy adds to the group, “I think anything should be game. It usually is.”
“I’m just more reserved around you girls,” Sam realizes.
“Which is why I told you to cover your ears,” I say with less edge.
A light bulb goes off in his head like I get it now. Most of us are too comfortable with each other, and he’s starting to understand that. So he nods but never plugs his ears, taking the risk.