Chapter 12 Cecily
Cecily
I’m trying not to count the number of drinks Dylan has had, but it’s hard not to.
It’s not about controlling him; it’s more about knowing how drunk he’s going to be by the end of the night, and if I’m going to regret labeling him as my best friend.
He’s been on edge all night, and I can’t tell if it’s because I’m here or because of something else.
I’m grateful when we walk upstairs to Rocky’s bedroom, where it’s quiet and away from the loud music. The girl I’ve been chatting with, Amber, turns to the guys and says, “Let’s play truth or dare.”
Scott smiles. “You just read my mind.”
When he looks at me, I smile at him. We stare at each other for a long moment.
I wouldn’t say it’s awkward, but I sure am interested to know what Scott’s like beneath the surface.
He clearly protects himself with this arrogant exterior, and it makes me wonder if he’s just like his dad.
Random thought, but aren’t most assholes just like their fathers?
I break the staring contest when Dylan whispers, “Just follow my lead.”
“How drunk are you?” I whisper.
He smiles big and wide. “Not drunk right now. Tonight’s going to be fun.”
We sit in a circle, and I’m across from Dylan. He ignores the girl, I think her name is Daisy, to his left, and laughs with Westley.
Scott says, “I’ll start. Dylan, truth or dare.”
Dylan was expecting it, so he says, “Dare.”
And I realize in this moment, he’s in his element. He’s comfortable. There’s no facade; he isn’t trying to impress me or be anything but himself. I respect him even more in this moment. I look at Scott, who is smiling mischievously.
“I dare you to strip down to your underwear and do twenty jumping jacks.”
The room erupts. Amber squeals like we’re at a male strip club, Daisy wolf-whistles, and even quiet Westley chuckles from his spot by the window.
Dylan doesn’t hesitate—he’s already pulling his shirt over his head, revealing the kind of abs that would make a girl write terrible poetry.
Abs are muscle, pure muscle, and shouldn’t exist on boys like him. See? Absolutely terrible.
“Holy shit,” Amber breathes beside me, fanning herself dramatically. “Best dare ever.”
I look because it’s impossible not to, but I’m more focused on the way everyone’s watching Dylan like he’s performing for them. He’s eating up the attention, flexing a little as he tosses his shirt aside and starts jumping. The girls are practically drooling.
“Alright, alright,” Scott calls out when Dylan hits ten. Yeah, his dick was flopping around, but I wasn’t looking. “Put your shirt back on before Daisy pants you and chokes on your cock.” He starts making a choking noise, and my eyes widen.
“Scott?” I say, feeling bold as Dylan puts on his clothes. “Truth or dare?”
Scott laughs. “Dare.”
I lean in and whisper my dare into Amber’s ear. She throws her head back and laughs.
“Do it,” Amber whispers.
I smile, looking over at Scott. He has no idea what’s coming for him with that smug look like he’s not about to back down from my dare. I glance at Dylan, excited to see his reaction. My eyes flick back to Scott’s as I say, “Trade underwear with Amber.”
Amber throws her head back with a deep belly laugh.
Scott says, “Fuck no. Next.”
I click my tongue. “So quick to decline. Come on, Scotty,” I plead with my eyes.
“No.”
“What? Like I’m dirty?” Amber teases.
I nod behind her. “Who here votes that Scott trades underwear with Amber for the night?”
“For the game,” Scott says. “I return them after the game.”
Daisy puts her hand up with a giggle.
Rocky cocks his head at me, and I know I have his vote by the look in his eyes.
Westley nods.
Dylan laughs, saying, “Don’t be a pussy.”
Amber stands up and removes her pants, then her underwear. Scott stares at her pussy, and I applaud myself for the best dare of the night.
Scott pulls her thong around his legs and all the way up. We girls laugh nonstop at the sight. I’m not even drunk, but this is great. This is the most fun I’ve ever had.
Dylan’s eyes meet mine, and he’s smirking at me.
Rocky says, “Cecily, truth or dare?”
I look at Rocky, and I understand why Dylan says he doesn’t compare to him. Dylan has the boy next door look, whereas Rocky looks like he’s undressing me and fucking me with just one glance. He has a dangerous edge to him. Hot is an understatement.
“Dare,” I say, sitting up straight.
“I dare you––”
Scott shouts, “To take shots.”
Rocky shoots a glare at Scott.
“I don’t drink,” I say.
“You do now.”
Dylan adds, “Scott, she doesn’t drink.”
“Body shots,” Scott adds.
“Off of him,” Amber chimes in, pointing at Dylan like she’s in on this scheme.
My stomach lurches. “I don’t really drink—”
“That’s the point of a dare, Cecily,” Scott says. “You don’t want to do it.”
I laugh, but it’s the kind of laugh that means someone’s about to get murdered. “It’s a strict rule.”
And it is. I’ve built my entire brand around being healthy.
Daisy starts to chant. “Shot! Shot! Shot!”
Westley gets up without a word and disappears, coming back with three shot glasses and bottles of tequila, vodka, and something that looks like it could strip paint. The group starts cheering and chanting my name, clapping in rhythm.
“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.”
Dylan smiles that perfect smile. “I’ll be there.”
Oh, they have no idea what they just agreed to. My green juice recipe includes kale, spinach, celery, cucumber, lemon, and ginger. It tastes like punishment in liquid form.
I turn to Rocky with a grin. I grab the vodka bottle and purposely point it at him.
“Rocky, truth or dare.”
“Truth,” he says, and I actually deflate a little.
“Really?” I huff, because I had some excellent dares planned.
He nods, looking way too pleased with himself.
“Fine. Truth. What’s your go-to move when you’re hooking up with someone?”
Rocky stares at me for a long moment, and I can practically see the wheels turning in his head. “Wanna find out?”
Dylan’s shoulder connects with Rocky’s so hard I’m surprised Rocky doesn’t fall over. I’m not the only one who notices—Amber’s eyes meet mine with a look that screams ‘did you just see how he defended you.’
“First thing I do is give her the fingler,” Rocky finally answers.
Scott barks out a laugh. “What the fuck is that?”
Rocky demonstrates by making a come-here motion with his pointer finger, curling it over and over. I watch, completely confused, while Scott nearly chokes on his own spit.
“Works every time,” Rocky says with the confidence of someone who’s clearly never been told no.
Daisy and I exchange looks that say ‘men are weird,’ while Amber giggles like she’s in on some secret joke.
“My turn,” Rocky announces. “Amber, truth or dare.”
“Dare,” she says without hesitation.
Rocky’s grin turns predatory. “Make out with Double D’s.”
Daisy points at herself like she’s surprised anyone would notice her very obvious assets. She’s tiny everywhere except her chest, so the proportions are pretty hard to miss.
“D.D. is her initials,” Dylan says to me.
I nod. That makes much more sense now.