I froze for a half second, the question slicing into a place I kept locked down tight. I figured tonight, we could switch it up a bit.
“If you want to know the truth, then let’s play truth or dare.”
He raised a single eyebrow at me, skeptical and curious all at once. It made my breath catch.
“Why?”
“Well, it’s fun and it will help us get to know one another.”
The words spilled out faster than I could temper them. Although I had been feeling much better because I wasn’t drinking anymore, there was a gnawing restlessness clawing at my insides. Sobriety left me feeling too much, too raw, too aware. And the silence between us was loud.
“We are getting to know each other better already,” he said, taking a hearty bite of his sandwich, molten cheese oozing down onto the plate. I followed the trail of it with my eyes, jealousy blooming in my chest. I wanted that casual ease. I wanted to taste that ease.
“I know, but can’t we do something different?”
He took a slow sip of his water, never taking his eyes off me. It was like he was measuring me against something, calculating risks he hadn’t signed up for.
“We did,” he said. “I made a different type of sandwich.”
I pouted like a little girl, irritation prickling just under my skin. Sobriety stripped away all my shields. The withdrawal wasn’t just chemical—it was emotional. It made me reckless.
“C’mon, Nick. I’m trying really hard not to drink, and although I feel better, I’m bored shitless doing the same thing over and over. I’m not used to routine like you. I’d really appreciate it if you humored me and played a game to spice up our conversations a bit. Okay?”
He stared at me with that infuriating stoicism, chewing slowly, as if weighing how much of himself he was willing to give.
I pushed my chair back, the legs scraping the floor harshly.
“Never mind, just f—” I started to get up, pulse pounding.
“Sit down.”
The command cracked like a whip across the kitchen. I froze, pulse leaping into my throat, my hands gripping the chair’s edge too tightly.
“Truth or dare?”
I slid back into the chair, biting back a smile that trembled with something heavier than amusement.
“Truth,” I said quickly, my voice threading the tightrope between bravado and terror. I knew where this was going.
He took a deliberate sip of his water, those green eyes drilling into me, pulling secrets to the surface before he even asked.
“How many guys have you slept with?”
The question landed with a jolt, making my sandwich feel like a brick in my stomach.
“What a crappy question, that’s what you are going with?” I deflected, throwing up the only shield I had left: sarcasm.
“Fine, going back to my original question. Have you ever had a serious boyfriend?”
“No,” I answered flatly, swallowing the truth like glass.
He tipped his head to the side, studying me like I was some complex equation he wanted to solve.
“So you’ve only had hookups?”
Curiosity etched across his face, open and real, cutting sharper than any judgment would have.
“It’s my turn. Truth or dare?”
