“Okay, I have it,” Lily cuts in, her hands on my knees. She clears her throat. “Rose, what position do you like the best?” Lily smiles more, able to ask this without stumbling over words.
Rose clutches Connor’s hand so forcefully that his skin begins to turn purple. Lily bringing up the sex tapes would’ve been worse for Rose and way more awkward, so Lily went easy.
“My favorite position is Connor’s least favorite position,” she says.
“This isn’t called lie or dare, darling.” Connor fixes her hair over one shoulder, her neck bare.
Rose purses her lips, her collarbones protruding from her black dress. “Fine…my favorite position is missionary.” She pauses briefly. “With a few alternations.”
And just like that—Connor looks ready to f**k her across the couch.
I can’t shut my mouth. Habit. “Meaning handcuffs, whips and yes sirs.”
Rose lunges for me—what the hell.
I instinctively flinch back while Connor seizes her around the waist—right before she catapults across the f**king table. She’s incredibly pregnant and acting like she’s a pole jumper in the Olympics.
I give her a weird look. “Way to sacrifice your baby for payback.” It was such a low blow that I regret it the moment it leaves my lips. My heart clenches like it’s skipping five beats at once.
Connor shoots me a single expression that says drop it. He’s holding the back of Rose’s head, and she says something fiercely to him in French.
I look to Ryke.
My brother sighs but ends up ratting them out, “She doesn’t call Connor sir, ever.”
Connor lets annoyance cross his face. He’s not a fan of Ryke understanding their private French conversations. So I’m not surprised when Connor says something in Italian to Ryke. When Ryke responds in the same language, gesticulating like he’s just as pissed, Lily’s eyes grow big.
She extends her arms, almost whacking me in the face. “I thought we said no secret languages?”
I cut in, already sorry I started this string of arguments. “I got it wrong,” I tell Rose. “I accept that. For Christ’s sake, I wouldn’t be surprised if I only got one out of three right.”
Rose stares at me with more confidence in her stiff posture and focused eyes. “Two out of three were right,” she says honestly, owning up to her sexual preferences.
I nod. “I’m not such a loser then,” I say dryly. “Shocking.”
She eases down a little. Look at that, I calmed the ice queen. Who would have thought this day would come?
Lily turns her head and whispers to me, “Maybe you’re inheriting some of Connor’s smart person powers.” She noticed the same thing as me.
I give her a smile. “Yeah, maybe.”
“Or you could’ve had them all this time and you never knew,” she says, her eyes brightening at that idea.
“The former is more probable,” I tell her, expecting her to frown. Instead she clings to me harder, as though saying she loves me all the same.
I take a deep breath, one that releases all kinds of strain.
Seconds later, a server appears, passing out a new rum and Fizz to Poppy, a tequila sunrise to Daisy, and a glass of wine to Connor. Poppy twirls her stir straw in her drink and says to Rose, “Your turn.”
Rose tugs at the hem of her dress and then rotates to Connor. “Truth or dare, Richard?”
“You can’t choose him,” Poppy reminds her. “We’re not letting couples choose their partner.”
Rose rolls her eyes dramatically. “For this absurd rule…” She targets her older sister. “Truth or dare?”
Poppy’s muscles are relaxed from the booze, and she leans into her husband’s chest. Sam and Poppy hug more than they kiss in public, and whenever they start to have an argument, they usually take it to another room. They’re so normal that having them here reminds me how the rest of us ride these extremes of life, rarely wading in the “okay” content state.
Connor is too conceited.
Rose is too high-strung.
Daisy is too wild.
Ryke is too aggressive.
Lily is too awkward.
I’m too hateful.
Sam and Poppy are just right.
And I wonder if they’re the ideal we should all be striving for. Or if we should just accept our nature and continue as we are.
After brief contemplation, Poppy says, “Dare.”
“I dare you to give me a shoulder massage.” Rose snaps her fingers like hurry up.
Of course she’d find a way to benefit from the dare.
Poppy scoots closer to her sister on the couch and starts kneading Rose’s shoulders with her fingers. Rose looks at peace, as though everything worked in her favor.
“Loren,” Poppy says. “Truth or dare?”
I tense. “Truth,” I say, even though dare might be easier for me. I selfishly don’t want to move Lily off my lap for any reason. I like her where she is.
“How many people in this room have you seen buck naked? Name them too.”
I tilt my head. “And I was just starting to like you, Poppy.”
“You always tell me that,” she says warmly.
I do? I mentally pass through her comment while I calculate my answer. Christ. “Four people. Lily, of course. Ryke.”
Ryke raises his brows quickly like guilty. This happens when we’re undressing for events in one room. We all just don’t care.
“Connor,” I add.
He raises his wine glass to me.
“And unfortunately Daisy.” I glare at her for streaking in our house. I caught a small glimpse, and it was enough to imprint an image that I’ve tried, desperately, to erase.
She playfully winces. “Sorry.”
Ryke shifts uncomfortably, but he doesn’t say a word about it. I highly doubt he’s that upset. But then I think about Ryke spotting Lily undressed, and it almost twists my face, gross sentiments invading me.
There’s a lot there that I don’t like to imagine or talk about. Starting with who’s the baby daddy? rumors and ending with Ryke and Lily discussing sex. The in between—Lily being aroused by his make-out sessions with Daisy—is temporary and only fueled by her hormones. So I can live with it fine.
It’s the other stuff that’s attempting to unravel me.
“What about Rose?” Daisy suddenly asks me. “Didn’t you see her na**d with the leeches…?”
Rose’s mouth drops. “Loren—”
“Holster your broomstick,” I tell her. “I didn’t even try to look at you. For one, no.” I cringe. “For another, I was focused on Lily.” I remember the road trip where the girls skinny dipped in a pond. We were all trying to remove the leeches, not catch a peek of each other’s girlfriends, wives, friend—whatever.
Rose relaxes back into Connor.
I nod to Daisy. “Truth or dare?” I’m betting she’ll pick dare.
But she hesitates for a second, her cheek still on Ryke. Her eyes are glazed, which means she’s tipsy, maybe verging on drunk. I haven’t craved alcohol that severely tonight. It’s easier when there are more people staying sober than just me.
Daisy raises her head and surprises me by saying, “Truth.”
A question lights up in my mind. An ass**le one. For Daisy, I would normally try to soften my spiteful, slightly vindictive nature. But it’s a knee-jerk reaction. And I let it out faster than I can rein it in—forgetting in a moment that she’s not Rose.