“It’s a surprise.” He takes the remaining bag and scuttles out of the kitchen.
We tip the crisps and sweets into separate bowls, put the biscuits on two plates, and serve everyone drinks.
“Do you always go to so much trouble when playing games?” Callan asks.
“Sometimes we get takeaway,” Theo says. “Hi, I’m Theo, by the way.” He glances at me.
“Oh, fuck, sorry. I should have done introductions.” I start pointing at my housemates in turn. “Theo, Preston, Stefan, Quinn, and Rubin.”
Rubin waves. “I’m not one of the housemates. But I am kinky.” He winks at Callan, who looks like a deer in headlights. “I’m Quinn’s brother.”
“You’ve already met Hendrix.” I motion to Callan. “Everyone, this is Callan.”
“Nice to meet you all.” He looks confused.
So was I when I first met my housemates. We all moved in on the same day. Stefan convinced us to play a couple of icebreaker games. I was reticent at first, but in hindsight, it did help me remember my housemates. I got a snapshot of each of them—their name, what they did for a living, and their main kink. We won’t be repeating that game for Callan’s benefit.
Rubin’s phone vibrates. He looks at it. “Does anyone mind if I turn the light off?”
“Why?” Stefan asks.
“For fun.”
“What’s going on?” Quinn asks.
“You’ll see.” Rubin squeezes Quinn’s shoulder. “Stay sitting down.”
“Huh?”
Rubin stands and turns the light out, plunging us into near darkness. Then he sends a text on his phone. Every muscle in my body tenses. I’m ninety-nine per cent sure this has something to do with Hendrix. What the hell is he planning?
The door opens. All I can see is bright light bobbing about chest height. When my eyes adjust, I realise the light is coming from dozens of candles stuck into a cake.
“Why the cake?” Theo asks. “Who’s birthday is it?”
“Rory’s,” Hendrix says.
“No, it’s not,” I say.
“It was. A month ago. But you didn’t tell us. So you get cake now.” Hendrix sings ‘Happy Birthday’ as he carries the cake to the table and puts it in front of me.
To my mortification, everyone joins in—even Callan.
“There are thirty-one candles,” Hendrix says. “Make a wish when you blow them out.”
I slap my hand over my face. “Why?”
“Because it’s tradition.”
“No. I mean, why did you make me a cake?”
“Birthdays need cake. That’s tradition too. Blow out the candles.”
With a heavy sigh, I blow out the candles. I wish for Callan to find peace and happiness if he hasn’t already. We all blink as Rubin flicks the lights back on. Once I’m able to see the cake again, I scrutinise it. It’s…interesting. It looks like two or three layers of sponge cake with chocolate icing splurged over the top. Or maybe it’s chocolate ganache. It looks homemade by someone who isn’t skilled at levelling or decorating cakes.
“You made this?”
Hendrix nods. He looks far too pleased with himself.
