But he did. And now we’re here.
Stuck in a spot we’ll never be able to get out of.
My lungs freeze when he grabs my T-shirt between his fingers and tugs me forward. “I hate that I hurt you.”
It’s the second time he’s said that. Only the agony in his expression is somehow even stronger now.
So strong I find myself desperately wanting to believe him…despite my subconscious telling me I should know better.
The moment of silence between us feels like an entire lifetime before he finally releases me.
I notice the paper bag he’s holding as we break apart. “What’s in the bag?”
Face impassive, he reaches inside it and pulls out a bottle of Jack Daniels along with two red Solo cups.
The memory slices through me like a blade.
“You’re not supposed to drink, remember?”
Something he promised me—but shocker—he lied.
His expression hardens, almost like he knows what I’m thinking, and it perturbs him. “Good thing I filled it with iced tea then.”
Dammit. Fine. He didn’t lie this time. Whoopty-freakin-do.
I watch in confusion as he walks over to the small desk in the corner of the room and proceeds to fill both cups.
Then he hands me one.
“What are you doing?”
Giving me an impish smile, Phoenix taps his Solo against mine. “We should play a drinking game for old times’ sake.”
I pin him with a look that makes his smile fall. “Let’s not.”
Some dumb game we played in high school isn’t going to miraculously make us friends again.
Granted, it worked back then, but there’s a world of difference between kissing a girl and ignoring her for three days…and ruining someone who was in love with you for your own selfish gain.
“Lennon.”
There’s an edge to his voice, but I don’t care.
“I’m not playing this stupid game.”
Disregarding that, he raises his cup in the air. “I’ll start. Never have I ever had a curfew.”
Seriously? It’s been over four years. You’d think he’d have a better opener.
In spite of my enmity for him and this ridiculous game he’s determined to play, I take a small sip.
“That’s surprising, given Chandler and all.”
“He tried once, but we both know I don’t follow rules.” The knowing look he gives me is an arrow through the heart. “Your turn.”
Well, if he can do repeats, so can I.
“Never have I ever sang on stage.” When he raises a brow, I add. “In front of a crowd.”
Not like he does.
He surveys me as he drinks...and then the asshole does it.
“Never have I ever had pig slop thrown on me at a party.”
He’s lucky this iced tea is good or else he’d be wearing it.
Raising the cup to my lips, I hold up the pointer finger of my free hand. “Still too soon.”
That gets a laugh out of him.
One I make sure to cut off with my next statement.
“Never have I ever cheated on a test…or a girl.”
His expression turns accusatory. “Test yes. Girlfriend, no. I told you, I didn’t fuck Sabrina that night.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Wanting to strike him where it hurts, I lift my gaze to his. “Because I was never your girlfriend…and I never will be.”
I can tell my comment hit the bull’s-eye because he looks like he’s been kicked in the nuts. I almost feel bad.
But, hey. He’s the one who wanted to play the game and trudge down memory lane. I can’t help that our path is paved with pain, flooded with heartache, and obstructed by deceit.
After all, it’s the one he chose.
His nostrils flare on an indrawn breath and he gives me a punishing look. “Never have I ever lied to myself about just being fuck buddies with someone when I wanted more.”
I start to take a sip, then intentionally stop myself from drinking at the last second. “You’d know all about lying. Wouldn’t you?” A burning sensation grips my heart like a fist. His fist. “Never have I ever stolen a song from someone.”
The tendons in his throat flex as he drains the rest of the liquid in his cup.
This is the closest he’s ever come to admitting what he’s done.
And this time…victory tastes sweet.
It gives me a small kick of satisfaction; one I’m riding high on until his next words.
“Never have I ever gotten paid to take my clothes off.”
The bite in his tone is unmistakable, and I know this was payback for my last one.
Too bad for him it doesn’t work, because I don’t have to drink.
His features twist with confusion. “What were you doing at Obsidian then?”
Placing my cup on the desk, I give him a cold look. “We’d need to play truth or dare for that.”
He meets my icy expression head-on. “Truth or dare it is then.”
“Great.” My lips purse. “I’ll go first this time. Truth or dare?”
There’s only one question I want to know the answer to.
But Phoenix dodges it like a pro. “Dare.”
My eyes narrow. “I dare you to go fuck yourself.”
Directing a shit-eating grin my way, his hands go to the zipper on his jeans and he walks toward my bed. “I’d much rather fuck you, but—”
“Stop,” I shout before he whips his cock out. I want the truth from him tonight and I won’t let that distract me. “I dare you to…” I look around the room, trying to think of something. It comes to me when I spot his cell on the desk. “Send a dirty sext to the last person who called you.”
His face contorts with amusement as he rakes his gaze up and down my body. “How dirty do you want it, Groupie?”
“Very.” I grab his phone and hand it to him. “And make sure to use their name in the message. This way, they’ll know it was meant for them.”
Biting his lip ring, he states, “Trust me, they’ll know.”
It’s obvious he assumes I’m going to be on the receiving end since he’s been blowing up my phone the past two hours. However, I rarely call Phoenix seeing as we’re always attached at the hip—and other body parts.
I give him a cheeky smile. “Remember, it has to be the last person who called you. Not the last person you called.”
The sexy look wipes clean off his face as he stares down at his phone. “The last person who called me was Chandler.”
This just keeps getting better and better. “Come on, Walker. Time’s a wastin’. And don’t forget, it needs to be very dirty.”
Since he uses speech-to-text, I get to hear every word of his love note.
Shooting me a look of annoyance, he holds his phone a few inches away from his mouth, “I want to…” He looks like he’s going to be sick and I love every minute of it. “Rip your clothes off.”
I level him with a look because we both know he can be much dirtier than that.
Wanting to inspire his creativity, I slowly trail a hand between my breasts before squeezing one. My other hand slips inside the waistband of my pajamas.
Phoenix’s eyes track the movement, causing my nipples to pucker against the thin fabric.