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Emma
Quinton pours out shots as Tadd supplies the first never-done thing. “Never have I ever… been an only child.”
Reid and I each down our glasses, and as the tequila blazes a path down my throat, I gasp. I’ve never been much of a drinker. During the parties I attended with Emily, we pretended to drink more than we actually drank.
“This isn’t a good start for us.” He grins as my eyes tear. “That, or it’s an awesome start.” He leans the length of his arm against mine for a moment, his skin a couple of shades darker, his forearm chiseled, the fine blond hairs raising goosebumps where we touch. “Are you cold?” He runs a finger along my arm, multiplying them.
“I guess so.” I don’t want to admit that I have goosebumps all over my body, that my stomach has just gone end-over-end due to his proximity and attention. He moves closer until our sides are pressing together. Oh yeah. That’s gonna help.
“Never have I ever bungee-jumped,” Jenna says.
“Well, crap.” MiShaun throws back her half-shot, along with Tadd.
“Far be it from me to suggest you wear more to warm up.” Reid’s warm breath stirs the baby hairs behind my ear, his smile hungry after a glance towards the just-low-enough neckline of my tank. Thank you, Emily.
My turn. “Never have I ever sung on stage.” I know I’ll be in the minority in this room full of film and theatre types.
“Diabolical,” Reid says, his voice a low hum, admiration in the smirk he gives me before he joins everyone else in another shot. The beginnings of a buzz make my head swim, and I fight not to sway towards him like a magnet towards a steel bar.
Reid turns to the room, aware that it’s his turn even if I’m aware of little beyond him. “Never have I ever… kissed a guy.” All four girls roll our eyes and down our half-shots, and I realize I’m on my way to a colossal hangover. Good thing there’s no filming tomorrow.
“Way to out me right away, dude.” Tadd throws back his shot, smiling wickedly. “And let me know if you want me to fix that for you.”
Graham downs his shot as well. “Damned independent films,” he growls good-naturedly as Quinton hoots with laughter.
“Never have I ever eaten lobster.” Quinton says, and everyone in the room grabs their shot glasses.
Tadd makes a “T” with his hands. “Time out, time out, that can’t be true, I call bullshit.”
“Wrong game, baby. Chill.” MiShaun tousles his pale, poker-straight hair.
Brooke waits until Tadd curses once and drinks. “Never have I ever been in love,” she says, staring at Reid. He stares back, neither moving. Graham takes a drink, watching me. I’m not sure what being in love feels like, but I sense that what I felt for Justin from Newark, or certainly anyone else since him, wasn’t it. I don’t drink.
“Never have I ever been to Hawaii,” Graham says. I’m the only person who doesn’t drink, and he smiles at me from the opposite side of the circle. Hawaii is where my father and Chloe honeymooned.
“Never have I ever—” MiShaun pauses for effect, “played this stupid game before.” She clinks glasses with Jenna while everyone else takes a drink.
Tadd admits that never has he ever learned to ride a bicycle, and everyone else groans and downs a shot before Jenna admits that she’s never learned to swim.
“What?” Brooke downs her half-shot. “We need to get you out to the pool. What if you land a part in a film where you have to dive into a lake, and come up wet and sexy?”
“Thass a good point.” Jenna chews her lip.
“Wet and sexy? Really?” Quinton fans himself with the discarded Cosmo. “Does everybody need to be able to pop outta the water looking like your Life’s a Beach poster?”
“Yes, and I’m well-qualified to teach that sk-skill.” Brooke’s poster was issued the month she turned eighteen. She stands in calf-deep surf, holding a surf board and clad in a wetsuit, unzipped to mid-chest, with her finger through the zipper pull as though she’s still unzipping. Emily’s brother has it prominently displayed in his bedroom.
“I’d be willing to assist with that worthy cause,” Quinton says, lying back on the carpet. “Be sure to let me know when lessons commence.”
“We’ll send you a memo,” Brooke says.
By the time we get back around to Tadd, we’re stumbling over each other’s names and any words containing more than one syllable, the slip-ups seeming beyond hilarious. Graham is more subdued than the other guys, his smile easy and genuine at the silliness around him. I catch his dark eyes on me a couple of times, but he watches Brooke, too.
“Let’s make this more interesting,” Tadd says, leaning back on his elbows. He waits until everyone is quiet. “Never have I ever… hooked up with a costar.”
“Hold up. Are we talking hooked up or hooked up,” Quinton asks. “’Cause I do not believe for a second that your horn dog self hasn’t found a twin on a set.”
“Either. Let’s say the make-out hook-up.”
“What? You are ly-ing,” Quinton says.
“Nope.” Tadd crosses his heart. “I’m pure as the driven whatever, on location. But don’t worry—one of the extras is on my list of things to do.”
MiShaun swats Tadd’s head too gently to be much of a reprimand. When everyone drinks, including Jenna, there’s a shocked silence before the room is filled with laughter and Quinton leans across to high-five her as she blushes red. Tadd eyes her blearily. “You are an enigma,” he means to say, though what comes out sounds more like you are an enema. We laugh until our sides hurt; Quinton laughs so hard he’s crying.