“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.
Next to me, Reid’s gaze sweeps slowly from my face to my br**sts, over the ribbon tie at my waist, to my pink toenails and back up. I want to know how he feels about me—not just my body (when he’s drunk and paying attention), but me. After our scenes this week, I was reduced to mush, and he ignored me at the club. I should be pissed. Which proves to be impossible when my head is spinning and he is sitting right next to me, looking so crazy gorgeous.
Balls. The tequila caught up with me quickly.
“What should I do with you, Emma Pierce?” He’s inches away, his mouth turned up on one side, his eyes slate blue in the dim light of the room.
“What do you wanna do?” I flirt back.
“Hmm.” His eyes are locked on mine, and I feel the vibrations to my toes. “You don’t know?”
I shake my head, immediately wishing I hadn’t. The effects of the tequila are building, even though I started cheating half an hour ago, feigning shots. My thoughts spin along with my vision. I close my eyes for a moment, and hear Reid’s soft laugh.
Oh, man. I can’t let everything move this fast with Reid; I’m not sure yet what he wants. Correction. I’m pretty sure what he wants, but I don’t know what it means. The hot/cold game is confusing. Is he trying to slow it down? Does he regularly hook up during films? Is a hookup what I want, if it’s all I can get with him? I’m far too buzzed to think clearly.
“Let’s play spin-the-bottle,” Quinton suggests. “Or seven minutes in heaven. We can use the balcony.”
MiShaun stands. “This is where I call old lady privilege, children.” She zigzags across the floor to the door, waving off protests. “I’ve done junior high.”
“MiShaun, I think you’re just afraid to kiss me,” Tadd says.
She turns, one hand on the curve of her hip. “And you may be right.”
As she leaves the room, Tadd quips, “I believe I’ve just been insulted.”
Graham’s eyes meet mine, but I’m sure there’s no way he remembers what he promised me several hours ago until he stands, stretching. “I’m beat. And just so you know, Tadd, I’m not afraid to kiss you.” He picks up his guitar. Like a postscript, he turns and adds, “Emma, you said something about running in the morning?” reaching a hand down to me. I link my hand with his and he pulls me up. The room tilts back and forth, but he holds my wrist firmly. Half a minute later, we’re in the hallway walking towards our rooms, one of us less steadily than the other.