Blakely’s gaze sweeps over me—face, posture, the tension in my shoulders. Her eyes soften a fraction.
“Sit,” she orders.
I blink. “You too?”
“Yes,” Blakely says simply. “Sit. Eat. Breathe.”
Jade claps. “Blakely’s in her mom era!”
Blakely doesn’t look away from me. “Sit.”
I do it because resisting Blakely is pointless.
Hesitantly, I take a brownie.
It’s warm and sweet and annoyingly comforting, way better than the last time.
Jade flops onto the couch beside me, throwing her legs over my lap like I’m furniture she owns.
Logan stands awkwardly for a second, then lowers himself carefully into the armchair, knee extended slightly.
Jade’s grin turns sly. “So. How long do we have you?”
“Twenty-five minutes,” I say.
Jade gasps dramatically, “Rude.”
Blakely checks her phone. “We can make an impact in twenty-five minutes.”
That’s ominous.
I narrow my eyes. “What does that mean?”
Jade’s smile widens. “It means…Truth or Dare.”
My stomach drops.
“No,” I say immediately.
“Yes,” Jade sings.
Blakely nods like it’s the most reasonable thing in the world. “Yes.”
Logan’s brow lifts. “Absolutely not.”
Jade whips toward him. “You don’t get a vote. You’re a guest.”
Logan points at his knee. “I’m injured.”
Jade waves him off. “So are my feelings, and yet here we are.”
I rub my forehead. “We’re not doing Truth or Dare.”
Jade leans closer, eyes bright. “We are. For the vibes.”
I hesitate because two years ago, at a party I didn’t want to be at, Truth or Dare was the beginning of the worst night of my life.
Not because of some stupid kiss.
