Chapter 8
Octavia
The bottle spins across the hardwood floor, the glass catching flashes of colored light from the kitchen and the pool outside.
Each rotation feels louder than it should, the scraping sound against the floor stretching time thin.
The room has grown tighter since the game started.
Bodies press shoulder to shoulder around the circle, knees touching, cups sloshing cheap alcohol onto the rug.
Every second the bottle stays in motion feels like waiting for a fuse to burn down.
Kadin had shifted away earlier to make space for Cheyenne beside me. Now the circle has rearranged itself in a way that feels uncomfortably planned out. Chey sways slightly where she sits, her shoulder leaning into mine, while Kadin occupies the spot beside Silas across from us.
Both of them are watching.
Kadin’s attention carries warmth, curiosity, a quiet interest that feels almost grounding in comparison to the sharp edge sitting just beside him.
Silas’s gaze is different.
Where Kadin’s eyes move around the room occasionally, Silas’s remain locked on me as if the rest of the party barely exists. His posture is loose, one arm draped lazily across his bent knee, bottle dangling from his fingers like he’s only half participating.
But his eyes never move.
Maria grabs the bottle with an exaggerated flourish, her grin wide and bright under the dim lights.
The alcohol has painted her cheeks pink and loosened the rhythm of her movements.
Around the circle, a few couples who had already been paired earlier are still tangled together on the couch behind us, apparently having abandoned the game entirely in favor of continuing their own private entertainment.
“My turn,” Maria announces proudly.
She plants the bottle firmly on the floor, giving it a dramatic spin. The glass skitters and rotates, passing each face in the circle once, then twice, slowing just enough to make the tension thicken.
Cheyenne lets out a drunken laugh as the neck of the bottle finally drifts toward her.
“Me?” she says, blinking at it like she’s not entirely convinced.
Several of the guys around the circle start hooting immediately, someone clapping Kadin on the shoulder like he somehow won something. The energy lifts into excited chaos.
All but one person reacts.
Silas doesn’t join the laughter. He doesn’t lean forward or look toward the bottle.
He watches me.
The faintest curl of a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, like he’s waiting to see how long I can sit here pretending the tension between us doesn’t exist. He’s waiting for me to crack first.
Maria crawls across the floor toward Cheyenne, her movements slightly clumsy but enthusiastic. Her hazy eyes focus on Chey like she’s just remembered what the game requires.
“Nothing we haven’t done before,” Maria says with a crooked smile. “Might as well give them a show.”
It’s not entirely a lie.
Cheyenne and Maria have a long history of drunken affection, usually in the privacy of dorm rooms or quiet afterparties. Doing it in front of a full living room, however, seems to spark a louder reaction from the crowd.
When Maria pulls Cheyenne closer, pressing her lips to hers, the room erupts in cheers and whistles. Maria’s hand slides to the back of Chey’s neck, guiding her in with exaggerated flair while the guys nearby pretend very poorly that they’re not enjoying the view.
Cheyenne laughs into the kiss, gripping Maria’s shoulder to steady herself as the moment stretches just long enough to satisfy the audience.
Across the circle, Silas lets out a quiet scoff.
The sound is subtle, almost lost under the noise, but the small smirk tugging at his mouth suggests he finds the whole display predictable. His gaze flicks briefly toward the two girls before returning to me again, like the performance barely earned his attention.
Of course he likes that. Typical man.
The thought barely finishes forming before Maria suddenly turns.
Without warning, she leans forward and plants a quick, messy kiss on my lips.
Her hands cup my cheeks for half a second, the scent of cherry lip gloss and vodka filling my nose before I can even process what’s happening. The contact is sloppy, entirely fueled by alcohol.
When she pulls away, my face feels damp with gloss and laughter.
“Can’t leave you out,” she murmurs, already retreating back to her spot.
The circle roars with laughter again, someone clapping loudly while another shouts something unintelligible over the music.
Across from me, Silas’s expression doesn’t change much.
But the way his eyes narrow slightly as he watches the moment settle across my face tells me he noticed every second of it.
The surprise of it lingers for a moment after Maria pulls away.
My fingers rise instinctively to my lips, brushing over the sticky mix of cherry gloss and vodka she left behind. The room is still loud with laughter and whistles, but the sound feels distant for a second as the realization settles.
Had that just been...my first kiss?
The thought lands strangely in my chest.
Maria catches my expression immediately, shrugging with a sloppy grin, her shoulders lifting in a drunken apology.
“Sorry,” she giggles, clearly not very sorry at all.
The tension that had been twisting through my stomach loosens just enough for a breath of laughter to slip out. Shaking my head, I wipe the last of the gloss from my mouth.
“Don’t be,” I reply, letting the moment roll off me. “At least someone finally took the initiative.”
The circle laughs again, the energy of the room buzzing with drunken encouragement. Someone claps loudly behind us, another person shouting for the bottle to keep moving.
From across the circle, Silas finally speaks.
His voice cuts cleanly through the noise.
“No reason to stop on our account,” he says, his head tilting slightly as he watches the group. “I think it’s your turn.”
There’s something in the way he says it that makes my attention snap toward him.
His posture still looks relaxed. One arm draped over his knee, shoulders loose, but his eyes are sharp in a way they hadn’t been earlier, the faint amusement replaced by something darker simmering underneath.
Is he… angry?
The thought flickers through me before I force my attention elsewhere.
My hand reaches for the bottle.
Kadin is watching quietly from beside Silas, that same calm smile lingering on his face. He doesn’t look threatened. He doesn’t look irritated.
Just patient.
Here goes everything.
With a quick flick of my wrist, I send the bottle spinning across the floor. The glass rattles softly against the wood, turning once… twice… three times. Each rotation seems slower than the last.
Cheyenne leans forward beside me, wiping her lips with the back of her hand, her cheeks still flushed from Maria’s earlier performance.
For a moment my eyes betray me.
They drift back to Silas.
He’s no longer looking at me.
He’s watching the bottle now.
Waiting.
The glass slows, wobbling once before finally stopping.
The neck points directly at Kadin.
A shallow breath slips from my chest before I can stop it.
My body tightens, not from nerves about Kadin, but from the sudden shift in the air across the circle. When I glance up again, Silas’s expression has changed. The playful edge is gone entirely now, his gaze wider, more focused.
Kadin moves before I fully process it.
He crosses the small space between us, kneeling beside me, the movement relaxed and unhurried. The cheers from the circle grow louder as people realize what the bottle decided.
Leaning closer, he lowers his voice near my ear.
“You don’t have to do this,” he murmurs gently. “I think you and Maria already gave them enough entertainment.”
The warmth of his breath brushes my skin as I turn toward him, our noses barely grazing.
“It would be nice,” I say softly, “to have a kiss I actually wanted.”
The words come out quieter than I expected.
Kadin studies my face for a second, searching for hesitation. Finding none, his hand rises to cup the side of my cheek, thumb resting lightly near my jaw.
“Well,” he says with a faint smile, “let’s hope I’m reading this right.”
His lips meet mine slowly.
The kiss is gentle at first, tentative in the way of someone making sure the moment belongs to both people involved.
The warmth of it spreads gradually instead of crashing all at once.
His mouth moves carefully with mine, the taste of whatever drink he’d been having mixing faintly with the alcohol already buzzing through my veins.
The cheers from the room swell around us.
For a moment the noise fades into the background. My hands rest against his shoulders as the kiss deepens slightly, confidence replacing hesitation. When we finally pull apart for air, both of us are smiling a little breathlessly.
His forehead leans lightly against mine.
“Definitely didn’t read that wrong,” I whisper.
A quiet laugh escapes him.
“I think I’m done playing,” he says under his breath. “Not really interested in repeating that with anyone else tonight.”
Before I can respond, another voice cuts through the circle.
“If you’re done,” Silas says, “then I think it’s my turn.”
The shift is immediate.
Kadin and I both look up.
Silas is holding the bottle now, his fingers wrapped around the glass so tightly his knuckles have gone pale. Anyone else in the room might miss it, but after the last twenty-four hours I recognize exactly what that tension means.
He’s containing something.
Barely.
A quiet curse slips through my mind.
Fuck you, Silas.
“We’re done playing,” I say sharply as Kadin helps me to my feet.
For a moment it seems like Silas might push it further.
Instead, he tilts his head slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting into a dangerous sort of smile.
“Fine by me,” he replies.
His fingers spin the bottle once against the floor, the glass rattling lazily between us.
“But why don’t we raise the stakes a little,” he adds.
The room quiets with interest.
“Whoever my turn lands on,” Silas continues, that smirk sharpening, “gets to join me in the closet for seven minutes.”
The reaction from the room is immediate.
A handful of the girls sitting near the circle lean forward, eyes bright with interest, while several of the guys who had been loudest a moment ago suddenly lose their enthusiasm. A few of them laugh nervously, raising their hands like they’re bowing out of the challenge entirely.
The energy shifts from playful to something a little more daring.
“Have fun,” I mutter under my breath, the words angrier than they need to be as I nudge Kadin gently away from the circle.
He doesn’t argue. His hand settles lightly against my arm as we step out of the group together, Cheyenne and Maria following quickly behind us, both of them snickering as they glance back toward the floor where the bottle still rests.
Silas doesn’t hesitate.
He gives the bottle a firm spin, the glass rolling in a quick circle before slowing. The room quiets again as everyone watches to see who it will land on.
When the neck finally settles, it points straight toward Lacey.
A cheerleader.
A girl who carries herself like she already knows she’s the center of attention wherever she goes.
The room erupts in loud approval.
Lacey laughs and rises easily, brushing imaginary lint from her skirt as if she expected this outcome. Silas stands as well, taking her hand without any hesitation. For a brief moment he turns back toward the circle, offering that slow, crooked smile.
It lands like a punch to the chest.
The realization hits me before I can stop it.
I’ve never seen him smile before.
Not like that.
And for some reason I can’t quite explain, the fact that he’s never looked at me that way sends an uncomfortable twist through my ribs.
Silas leads Lacey toward the hallway closet near the kitchen, the crowd whistling and laughing as they go, someone shouting a countdown for the seven minutes. Just before he shuts the door behind them, he glances back toward the room and throws everyone a casual wink.
The door clicks closed.
For a few seconds, the group stays close, listening for any hint of what’s happening inside. The muffled sounds from the party make it hard to tell anything clearly, but the curiosity alone is enough to keep everyone hovering.
The warmth that had been lingering from my kiss with Kadin fades quietly, replaced by a strange heaviness that settles low in my chest. The longer the door stays closed, the more that feeling grows.
It’s ridiculous.
And yet it refuses to go away.
“You have a pool, right?” I say suddenly, breaking the quiet focus Kadin had directed toward the closet door.
He turns back to me, blinking once before a smile spreads across his face.
“I do,” he says easily. “Care to join me, ladies?” He smiles, gesturing toward the back doors where the glow of the pool lights spills across the yard.
Cheyenne raises both hands immediately in agreement as Maria laughs, hooking her arm through hers.
Before following them, my eyes drift back to the hallway one last time.
The closet door is still closed.
A small smile pulls at the corner of my mouth anyway.
“Absolutely.”