Throw it at me, punch me, bite me. I just want you to do something to make me feel like you like me. I fucking crave it.
“Classy,” she snapped.
“You started it,” I said, my voice rough.
She knew what I meant. Everyone else might’ve thought this was about the game. But her and I? We were playing Russian Roulette. Except we were shooting words, and every hit drew blood.
Megan let out a frustrated breath.
“Okay, wow. Things are getting intense. Let’s switch it up, Truth or Dare?”
There were cheers from the others, but I didn’t even register them. I leaned back, eyes never leaving Mackenzie. Her fingers dug into her knees. Her body wound so tight; I knew she was seconds from breaking.
“Alright, Heather, you start us off. Truth or dare?” Megan grinned.
Heather smirked.
“Dare.”
“I dare you to kiss Max,” Megan announced.
Mackenzie’s body tensed like someone had just struck her. And fuck, I felt it like a slap straight to the face. My gut twisted. The fire, the flirting, the games, I didn’t want any of it. I was hurting her. And I didn’t like that. I took it back. I took it all back.
“Nah, I’m not…” I lifted a hand to object. I wasn’t playing this game. But it was too late.
Heather was on me before I could finish the sentence, grabbing the front of my shirt like she owned me, legs wrapping tight around my waist, her mouth crashing into mine.
The kiss was sloppy, desperate. I couldn’t even push her off. She was holding onto me so tight that I couldn’t breathe.
She tasted like a mix of beer and watermelon Jell-O shots, with a sour undertone. Her tongue forced past my lips without invitation, and I let out an exasperated groan. I was absolutely disgusted. I wanted to vomit. I tried to push her off, but she grabbed me even tighter. When she finally pulled back, she looked victorious, like she had just won a prize.
“Mmm,” she purred, glancing sideways at Mackenzie. “You taste good.”
My blood went cold. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, trying to wipe her kiss off me. And then my eyes snapped to Mackenzie.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
She was staring straight ahead, face flushed like she’d been slapped. Her mouth trembled slightly, and she was blinking too fast. Then I saw it. The single tear forming in her right eye, hovering. And it felt like a goddamn knife to the chest.
“Mackenzie…” I choked out. She didn’t even look at me. Not once. She didn’t speak. She just stared at the fire like it might swallow her whole.
I would’ve set myself on fire if it meant undoing the last thirty seconds.
And then Heather, smiling in her delight, leaned back on her hands and said in that sweet, venom-laced voice, “Truth or dare, Mackenzie?”
The group froze. The flames cracked.
“Dare,” she said, her voice cold, small. She didn’t sound angry. She sounded tired. And that was much worse. Because I knew that tone, I knew that edge. It was the voice of a girl who had nothing left to lose. The kind of voice that made peoplebleed.
That made me bleed. And she was going to make me suffer over it.
I let myself look away from Mackenzie, just for a second. I found Jackson staring at her across the fire.
My hands curled into fists.
“Enjoy the show?” I asked quietly.
His eyes flicked to mine, slow, almost bored.
