Chapter 4. TruthDare
Forty minutes later, after Millie finishes gushing over the decorations and catering, we each hand her our gifts and bouquets. With plates piled high with snacks, we gather around the coffee table—some of us on the sofa and armchairs, others sitting cross-legged on the carpet.
Millie keeps her word and announces that we’re playing a game—not UNO or any of the board games Chara and Tina set out, but Never Have I Ever .
Millie personally pours wine into everyone’s cups—except mine, which she fills with cherry juice because I don’t drink. Then, we form a semi-circle: Millie and Peter on the sofa with Amira, Chara and Adam in the armchairs, and Tina and me on pillows on the floor.
Peter suggests Millie go first since she’s the birthday girl, but she waves him off, claiming she needs more time to think. I know she’s only doing it to avoid seeming suspicious. She’s definitely already cooked up a “Never Have I Ever” aimed at Adam—I’d put money on it—but she’s playing it cool.
Tina jumps in instead, brushing crumbs from her hands before popping a cheese cube into her mouth. “Never have I ever,” she says with a grin, “stolen anything.”
A wave of laughter ripples through the group as Chara, Peter, and Amira sip from their cups.
Tina’s jaw drops, and she turns to Amira, pointing an accusatory finger. “You thief! What did you steal?”
Amira laughs, raising her glass defensively. “Post-it notes. And pens. Relax—I didn’t rob a bank.”
Peter chimes in, mock-serious. “Office supplies theft is a slippery slope.”
“Wait,” I cut in, brow furrowed. “That counts as stealing? Because if it does, I’m guilty too.”
Tina grins, pointing at my cup. “Drink.”
With a shrug, I take a slow sip, savoring the tart sweetness of the cherry juice as some of the tension from earlier eases, like I can finally breathe again.
Next, it’s Chara’s turn. She shifts forward, her eyes glinting with mischief as she shoots me a devilish grin. “Never have I ever,” Chara begins, dragging out each word for dramatic effect, “worn my sibling’s clothes.”
The entire group bursts into laughter as everyone instinctively looks at me, and I already know—I’m busted. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Adam smirking, one brow raised, as if contemplating whether “clothes” means dresses or just a T-shirt. The sight sends an odd jolt through me.
“I hate you,” I groan, shooting a frustrated look in Chara’s direction as I reluctantly lift my cup and take another sip. The cherry juice is cool on my tongue, but it does nothing to dull my annoyance—or the heat creeping up my neck.
Everyone’s still laughing as Tina leans forward with an eager grin. “I’m getting more details on that later,” she promises, and Chara nods smugly, clearly enjoying herself.
Now it’s my turn. Even though I’m itching to get back at my sister, I instinctively glance at Millie. She meets my gaze and gives me a subtle, pointed look—a reminder of the goal here: to get answers.
I let out a measured breath, trying to stay focused.
Picking up a cucumber slice from my plate, I bite into it as I stall, my mind racing for something clever—something that might nudge us closer to the truth about Adam without making it glaringly obvious that I’m fishing.
“Never have I ever,” I say, the pause stretching out as I search for the right phrasing. Then, before I can second-guess myself, the words tumble out: “had sex with anyone in this room.”
“That’s kind of obvious,” Peter says with a smirk, and the group chuckles in response. Then, casually, he, Millie, Amira, and Tina all take sips from their cups.
Adam doesn’t drink.
I try to act nonchalant, but a flicker of relief stirs somewhere deep inside me. I mean, I know I didn’t sleep with him—but the irrational, paranoid part of me just wanted to be absolutely sure.
“Never have I ever,” Adam begins next, and even though I’m not looking at him, I feel his attention on me as he finishes, “seen anyone in this room naked.”
The words hit like a slap. Startled, I suck in a breath—and the stringy cheese I’m chewing catches in my throat. A piece wedges itself in my windpipe, and I break into a fit of uncontrollable coughing.
While Peter, Millie, Amira, and Tina take casual sips from their cups, seemingly unaware of my coughing struggle, Chara says, her voice soft with concern, “Do you need some water?”
I shake my head, still struggling to clear my throat. “I’m okay, thanks,” I manage, though my voice comes out rough. Reaching for my glass, I take a sip of cherry juice.
Adam casts me a sidelong glance, his expression unreadable. He knows that me drinking was basically confirming I’d seen him naked—which is kind of obvious, since he already knows that. But for some reason, he wanted me to admit it. I don’t know, maybe he’s playing some weird mind games. Thankfully, the rest of the group thinks I only took a sip because I was choking.
Amira speaks next, her tone teasing. “Never have I ever gone to a strip club.”
Only Peter raises his cup, earning an annoyed nudge from Millie.
“It was at Nick’s bachelor party,” Peter says, his grin wide and unapologetic. The mention of Nick, Millie’s older brother living in Italy, draws a few chuckles from the group.
Finally, it’s Emilia’s turn. She takes a bite of a stuffed mushroom, feigning deep thought, like she hasn’t been planning this all along. Then, with a sly smile, she says, “Never have I ever kissed anyone other than Peter in this room.”
The question makes everyone pause for a beat before Tina and Chara jump in, arguing that a kiss could mean on the cheek, and by that logic, they’d all be drinking. Millie waves them off with an exaggerated eye roll and tries again. “Fine—never have I ever kissed anyone other than Peter on the mouth in this room.”
Peter takes a sip, because, obviously, he’s kissed Millie. So do Amira and Tina. But then a wave of heat surges through me as Adam raises his glass and drinks. He does it so casually, as though he’s hoping no one will notice—but, of course, everyone does.
While I’m busy calming my pounding heart, Millie throws me a quick, meaningful look, and both Amira and Tina gasp in unison.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Tina says, blinking as she stares at Adam. “Who did you kiss?”
“It can only be Peter,” Amira says, her expression scandalized. “Because it wasn’t me, and hopefully not my girlfriend. And Peter is the only one who also drank.”
I turn to Adam and notice the blotchy redness spreading up his neck, but before anyone can focus on him, Peter speaks up. All eyes turn to him as he chuckles softly and says, “Yeah, we kissed on a dare back in tenth grade.”
I turn to Millie, curious to see her reaction, but she’s focused on Peter, her expression sharp, as though she’s deciding whether he’s telling the truth. Still, no one presses further, and the game moves on as the turn passes to Peter.
We play two more rounds, but none of the turns bring us any closer to uncovering Adam’s secret. Sensing the lack of progress, Millie claps her hands together and announces, “Alright, we’re switching to Truth or Dare .”
Honestly, I don’t know how I’m supposed to get through this game completely sober. Everyone else is already on their third glass of wine, but I’m stuck with cherry juice, which makes answering questions—or, worse, asking them—feel impossible. Especially if I want to direct anything at Adam. How am I supposed to ask him something without making it obvious in front of everyone? The thought alone is enough to make my stomach twist. But the game’s already underway, and there’s no escaping it now.
Emilia kicks off the game, immediately setting her sights on Peter.
“Truth or dare?” she asks, her tone playful, but with a challenge behind it.
Peter picks “dare,” and the way he and Emilia exchange a look makes it obvious that something’s up. There’s a silent conversation happening between them—like Emilia is debating whether to corner him with a question he can’t dodge, while Peter’s doing everything he can to avoid it. My gut tells me it’s about that kiss he mentioned during Never Have I Ever. If I were Emilia, I’d be asking if he said it to cover for Adam.
But since Peter picked dare, Emilia simply says, “Make me a gin and tonic.”
We all watch as he gets up, heads to the kitchen, and returns a few minutes later with the drink. He hands it to Millie, plants a quick kiss on her cheek, and sits back down, looking like he just dodged a bullet.
Then it’s Peter’s turn, and to my surprise, he chooses me.
“Truth or dare, Sammy,” he says, his tone light but unmistakably mischievous.
“Truth,” I reply, partly because I’m too lazy to get up and do anything, but mostly because I’m curious what Peter has in mind.
“Fuck, marry, kill,” he says, his smirk widening into something almost diabolical. “Me, Adam, and Millie.”
Tina and Chara gasp in unison, while Emilia’s eyebrows shoot up before she gives Peter a look of amused approval. “Bold move,” she says, sounding both impressed and curious.
I freeze, heat flooding my cheeks. I notice Adam shifting in his seat—and I can’t tell if he’s curious about my answer or just uncomfortable.
It’s such a loaded question that, for a moment, my mind blanks completely. I scramble for the safest answer, but no matter where I put Adam—fuck, marry, or kill—it feels like stepping on a landmine.
“Well,” I begin, boldness rising despite the nerves knotting in my stomach. “If I have to pick…” I pause, letting my gaze drift over the three of them for dramatic effect. “I’d kill you, Peter, for asking dumb questions.”
The room bursts into laughter, Peter included.
Once the noise dies down, I continue, “I’d marry Millie—obviously, she’s the love of my life.” The laughter picks up again, and I wait for it to settle before casually glancing at Adam. “And I’d fuck Payne. Sorry, Adam.”
Our eyes meet, and I catch a flash of surprise on his face—but no offense. Instead, he blinks at me, as if acknowledging my answer, the corners of his lips twitching as he says, “Score.”
The room erupts with laughter and cheers, but Adam’s still watching me, a hint of amusement on his face. It sends a thrill through me—intoxicating, almost like a high.
God, what am I doing? He’s straight—I’m almost sure of that. So am I imagining this tension between us? Or is he just being polite, letting the gay guy flirt because he’s a nice person? Shit. I swore I wouldn’t let myself go down this road again, but here I am. I know it’s only going to end in heartbreak, but maybe I can give myself this weekend. Just this once. To imagine that he’s flirting with me. That he likes me. That whatever happened during that blackout four years ago was just a misunderstanding—a stupid, unfortunate mistake that means nothing now. That maybe he’s bi-curious…
Letting the fantasy play out doesn’t seem like such a terrible idea. What’s the harm, really? Besides, A: I’m sober, so there’s zero chance of blacking out or humiliating myself again, and B: I probably won’t see him again for at least another year. Maybe this one weekend, I can pretend. Just for fun. Just to feel something other than the anxiety knotting my stomach.
Tina’s voice snaps me out of my spiral.
“Truth or dare, Sammy?” she asks, a playful gleam in her eyes.
Judging by her expression, she’s come up with something twisted. Normally, I’d be cautious, but after that moment with Adam—our cute little eye contact that I’m convinced lasted longer than it should between acquaintances or friends—I feel weirdly bold. Like his attention is still on me, like he’s watching, waiting. And maybe that’s just my delusional mind, but tonight, I really don’t care.
“Truth,” I say, lifting my cup as if to toast my own bravery.
Tina’s grin widens. “Why did you break up with Tim?”
Three gasps—Chara’s, Peter’s, and Amira’s—follow in perfect sync, while Millie lets out a surprised snort. I blink, momentarily taken aback. Of all the questions Tina could’ve asked, she chose to ask about Tim?
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Adam leaning forward in his armchair, waiting for my answer. Or maybe I’m imagining it—I honestly don’t know anymore.
I clear my throat. “He didn’t fully commit to me,” I say simply. It’s the polite version—the one that skips over the details of Tim’s “boys’ nights out” at the club, me pacing at home, worried sick, only to find out later that he was busy making out with strangers.
“Shit. Sorry,” Tina says, the playfulness gone from her voice, like she didn’t expect my answer to be that serious.
The room feels heavier, a brief silence settling over us. I don’t want to let the mention of Tim drag things down—especially since I’ve been over him for a while—so I snort and wave them off. “Cheer up, guys. I’ve been happily single for eight months now.”
“Alright,” Tina says, still watching me carefully. “Sorry if it’s a sensitive topic.”
“It’s not,” I reply, smirking at her. “Is it my turn now?”
Everyone nods, and the tension in the room eases.
“Alright,” I say with an exaggerated sigh, trying to sound upbeat. “So…who’s going to be my victim?” I glance around at everyone before letting my gaze land on Adam. “Truth or dare, Adam?” My pulse thrums somewhere in my throat at my own audacity. I’m not drunk, but I feel drunk—drunk on boldness, like I can do whatever I want.
“Dare,” Adam says without hesitation.
And to my dismay. I was hoping he’d pick truth—I hadn’t even figured out what I wanted to ask yet, but it was definitely going to be a question, not a task. Now, with the weight of the dare hanging between us, I freeze, completely taken aback. My mind races as I scramble for something that doesn’t sound ridiculous.
We just stare at each other for a long moment. Adam sits there quietly, his expression calm but slightly amused, like he’s waiting to see if I’ll fold first. And then, almost on impulse, I blurt out, “Show me the last message you sent to Peter.”
I mean, I suspected it had to be something good—the friendship between Adam and Peter is special, a lot like mine and Millie’s. But the second the dare leaves my mouth, Adam’s face flushes crimson—so fast I’m caught off guard. I figured there’d be something funny or mildly embarrassing between them, but I didn’t expect this reaction .
Peter immediately grabs his own phone to check what I’ve just unearthed, and the second he sees it, he slaps a hand to his forehead like, Oh God, this is worse than I thought.
Adam exhales through his nose as though he’s debating whether to show me, but then he reluctantly pulls out his phone, scrolls for a second, and finally holds the screen toward me. He’s pinned the message with his thumb so that only one is visible.
“Yup, and it doesn’t help that I’m so fucking horny.”
My heart slams into my ribs like a wrecking ball. I can feel the room watching me, but all I can focus on is that one sentence. My face heats up so fast I probably look like I’m seconds away from spontaneous combustion.
The girls start hollering, leaning in and demanding to know what it says. Adam quickly pulls the phone away before they can peek, and I just shake my head, unable to form words.
To be fair, I have no idea why Adam is horny. But considering he sent that to Peter just a few hours ago—after everything that’s happened today, after the bathroom incident, after seeing him naked and hard—let’s just say, my delusional side is having a field day drawing parallels and making connections.
“Nice,” I say to Adam, adding a teasing lilt to my voice to mask my own embarrassment.
But it doesn’t help—he looks absolutely mortified. His gaze stays fixed on the floor, his face still flushed. When Amira prompts him with a cheerful, “Your turn, Adam!” he downs the rest of his wine in one swift gulp before finally looking up.
Right at me, his eyes glinting dangerously. “Truth or dare, Sammy?”
A shiver runs down my spine at the way he says my name.
“Truth,” I say, panicking slightly because there’s no way I’m letting Adam freaking Payne peek into my phone.
“Alright,” Adam says as he casually picks up the wine bottle from the coffee table and pours himself another glass. “What did you and Millie talk about when you went upstairs?”
The blood drains from my face the second I register his question. My mouth goes dry, and to make matters worse, Millie squeaks—a dead giveaway that there was something to talk about. Adam’s gaze stays fixed on me, steady and triumphant, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. My brain screams at me to lie, to come up with something harmless, but before I can even try, Adam’s voice cuts through, low and gruff: “You can’t lie.” Like he’s read my fucking mind.
I take a big gulp of my cherry juice, but the sweetness coats my throat, and I regret it immediately. Everyone’s attention is on me again—they might not know what’s going on, but they can tell I’m freaking out, and that’s enough to make them lean in, eager for the drama.
“We…uh,” I stammer, searching for a vague answer—something that skirts the truth without being a complete lie. But when I meet Adam’s gaze, it’s steady and unflinching, daring me to be honest, something shifts inside me.
Screw it, I think. I’ve already caused enough chaos today—what’s one more confession? Besides, there’s something different about Adam tonight, something that makes me feel like if I push just a little, I might end up somewhere entirely unexpected.
“We were talking about you,” I say at last, meeting his eyes head-on. “Can’t say what, though.” I give him an innocent smile, fully aware of everyone's attention on us. “Not really something I can tell the whole class.”
To my surprise, Adam’s lips twitch before betraying a full-on smirk. He shakes his head incredulously, like he can’t believe I actually said it.
The game rolls on, and Amira is next, daring Chara to count the number of boyfriends she’s had in her lifetime. I immediately clap my hands over my ears when Chara starts answering—there are some things a brother doesn’t need to know.
Finally, it’s Emilia’s turn again, and I can already see where this is headed: she’s gearing up to confront Adam. I feel an urge to stop her somehow—signal that I don’t want to get the answer this way, forcing it out of him—but there’s no subtle way to pull it off without making things obvious. I brace myself as she turns to Adam.