Chase makes a plate for Elliot, adding the crust he tore off his slices to her plate. I watch as he walks over to her. She’s sitting next to Sutton, laughing about who knows what.
Even through her loud laugh, I hear Sutton’s. Whatever remnants of anxiety from earlier today vanish at the sound, relieving the tightness in my chest, and I swear she’s better than the ashwagandha tea I stomach at night.
“We were playing ‘put a finger down’ before you got here,” Jaxon says with a mouthful of food. He swallows and wipes his mouth with a napkin. “We should restart. Sutton was the only one with five left anyway.”
Sutton tosses him a fake smile, tilting her head with a slight shake back and forth, a hint of annoyance in the curl of her lip that she masks with playfulness in her bright eyes.
Everyone puts up five fingers. I use my other hand to devour my slices, forgetting to pluck off the tropical fruit. The back of my neck, the skin that is exposed underneath my hat prickles, and I turn enough to see from my peripheral that Sutton is watching me intently. When she catches my gaze, she quickly looks away, cheeks tinted.
I go first.
“Put a finger down if you’ve been to Europe.”
Everyone else drops a finger. Sutton goes next.
“Umm…” She searches for a statement. Picks up her wine glass and takes a few sips, then blushes. “Put a finger down if you’ve had sex in public.”
“Does a car count?” Dawson asks.
“Oh.” Around the room, everyone drops a finger unanimously. Sutton drops her hands to her lap, masked by the coffee table. “This is awkward.”
“Why?” Elliot asks casually, nonchalantly.
“I assumed there had to be someone else that hadn’t?—”
“You and Nathan never—” Jaxon starts about her freshman year boyfriend.
“No. We, uh, yeah, we did stuff. We just never?—”
“I knew I couldn’t stand him. That twatwaffle should have spent less time with his head in a textbook, and more time between his girlfriend’s legs.”
“Jaxon!” Elliot warns, bonking him upside the back of his head.
“Ow,” he lets out, at the same time, I bark out, “Don’t talk about her like that.”
“Sorry!” His hands fly up in front of him. “Just reminding everyone how much he sucks.”
“Apologize to Sutton,” Elliot demands with a snap and point.
“I’m okay, Elliot,” she pipes up, slipping her game hand out from under the table, her thumb folded down. But I notice thehalf moons up and down her pointer finger. It’s a nervous tick she’s had since we were kids. There’s a scar on her left palm from pushing into the flesh so hard that it bled. It’s barely noticeable, most probably don’t even see it, given how faint the crescent is. I’ve always thought of Sutton as the sun—personality, her attire, everything really—and myself as the moon. Especially lately. You can’t have one without the other. The moon doesn’t shine without the sun.
Sutton clears her throat, and I quickly rip my gaze away from her when I realize I’ve been staring. “You go, Chase,” she follows up with.
He immediately goes, catching the rise of my brow and silent plea for him to get us out of the conversation. “Put a finger down if you’ve hooked up with someone in this group.”
You’d think we’d all know each other by now. Three years of friendship between all seven of us, plus my sister and her roommate, Xanie. They were easy additions when they started at Lakeland, both on the women’s hockey team.
But the response to Chase’s turn is a reminder that there is always something you don’t know about a person…or that we all keep secrets.
It’s as if the music being streamed on the television glitches and the AC turns off with how quiet and palpable the tension in the room becomes.
Eyes bounce from one person to the next. Lingering a millisecond longer on me and Sutton as if something has happened between us.
I wish I were putting a finger down.
Sutton laughs sardonically, head tipping back, exposing her throat, untamable curls falling down her back. It’s my least favorite of her laughs—not that I have them ranked or anything.
“One day,” I joke. My voice, the playful tone I’ve mastered.
