“Cecily! Cecily! Cecily!”
I look around the circle, seeing the expectant faces, the challenge in Scott’s eyes, the way Dylan’s watching me with concern. And there, in my peripheral vision, I catch a glimpse of him leaning forward slightly, like he’s about to intervene.
Scott tosses a bottle of Coke in my direction. “Chaser.”
I look around the circle at all of whom are at various levels of intoxication and clearly living for this drama.
“Guys, I don’t drink. And I’m the designated driver tonight.”
“Look, I’ll pay for everyone’s Uber home. Deal?” Scott offers.
Rocky adds, “Just crash here.”
“No,” I say at the same time everyone else yells, “Yes!”
“I think you’d better drink, Ce,” Rocky says. “You’re not going to like my dare.”
I scowl at Rocky, wondering what he has in mind. Maybe taking a few shots is better than what he was about to say.
I could stand up and leave right now. March out of here with my dignity intact and my liver unharmed. But as I glance around, I realize this might actually be the safest place to have my first drinks in years. I look at Dylan as he walks over to me. He would never let anything bad happen.
I say to him, “If things go sideways—”
“I’ll make sure to flip everything right side up,” he promises, and there’s something in his voice that makes me believe him.
I can’t help but smile, even though his grin is so broad it’s practically blinding.
“You don’t have to do this?”
I look at Rocky. “If it saves me from whatever he had in mind…”
Scott fills a shot glass and whirls it in front of my face.
I grab the shot glass and throw it back. It burns like hell, but I don’t flinch.
“Ugh.” I stick my tongue out, trying to get rid of the taste. “That was disgusting.”
Everyone bursts into laughter, and I grab the second shot from Dylan’s hands. “Okay, second one.”
The second one is vodka, and this one goes down easier, probably because my taste buds are already dead. “That one was better.”
“Must’ve been the vodka,” Dylan says, holding up the third shot. “Now this one.”
The third one, whatever the hell it is, makes me cough and my eyes water, but I slam the glass down and raise my arms in victory.
The reaction is immediate and enthusiastic. Everyone starts whooping and stomping their feet like I just scored a winning goal. I feel a little dizzy but triumphant.
“Hallelujah!” Scott claps Dylan on the back like they just won something. “Finally got the stick out of her ass.”
I push Scott hard enough that he nearly falls over.
“Fuck off,” I mutter, flipping him off for good measure. “I’m a health fanatic, not a nun. And since we’re playing this game, I dare all four of you—” I point at Dylan, Rocky, Scott, and Westley, “—to do green juice shots at my place tomorrow morning.”
“Easy,” Rocky says, because he’s clearly never had my green juice.
“No problem,” Scott adds, which proves he’s underestimating me.
Westley laughs. “Count me in.”
