CHAPTER 5 #2
It was a core tenet of our relationship. We didn’t dish out what we couldn’t take, and we always took it. We were too competitive not to.
Her unprecedented apology gave me at least twenty points in our invisible scorebook, but my answering quip died on my tongue when she crossed her arms.
It was a defensive gesture, one she rarely used.
And when I looked at her, really looked at her, I picked up on the little signs that I should’ve noticed earlier—the shadows underneath her eyes, the tense lines carved around her mouth, and the stiffness in her shoulders that, for once, didn’t have anything to do with me. Not entirely, anyway.
The week must’ve taken an even bigger toll on her than she let on, but that was how she was. She suppressed everything and pretended she was okay even when she wasn’t.
“Apology accepted,” I said.
Maya blinked, her surprise evident. She’d probably expected me to give her shit for apologizing, and yeah, that was the first thing that’d crossed my mind. But she was obviously feeling crappy and vulnerable enough without me piling on.
I liked competing with her, not hurting her.
An uncomfortable sensation spread behind my ribcage. It was a slow, creeping pressure, like my chest was shrinking around something I didn’t have the vocabulary—or guts—to name.
I shook off the feeling before it grew legs. “Now that that’s behind us, we can focus on something more fun.” I nodded at the bar. “Do you remember the Five Trials?”
“Of course.” Maya wrinkled her nose. “I haven’t done it in a while, though.”
“Neither have I, but I think it’s time to bring it back.” Our old drinking challenge was guaranteed to obliterate any nagging thoughts—or any thoughts in general. “First person to finish gets bragging rights.”
Her eyes gleamed. She loved nothing more than a challenge. “You’re on.”
Twenty minutes later, we’d assembled what we needed and recruited our friends as witnesses.
Xavier and Sloane found us when we were ordering drinks, and Ayana and Vuk wandered over a little later. The four of them watched us prep with varying degrees of amusement, anticipation, and trepidation.
The Five Trials was a student tradition at our old boarding school.
Every senior had to “pass” it in order to unofficially graduate.
It consisted of five shots, each containing a different liquor: tequila, vodka, whiskey, rum, and gin, in that order.
The combo was guaranteed to fuck you up, but that was the point.
Adrenaline streaked through my blood as I lined up the shots.
I hadn’t done this in years, but doing it with Maya? It was almost like old times.
“It’s like I’m at a college frat party.” Sloane gave us a warning look. “If either of you throw up on my Louboutins, there’ll be hell to pay.”
“We won’t,” Maya and I said in unison.
“I’ve never thrown up from alcohol,” she added, side-eyeing me.
“Neither have I.” I’d done lots of shit because of alcohol, but vomiting wasn’t one of them.
Despite our reassurances, Sloane took several steps back while Xavier took on the role of timekeeper. “You guys ready?”
We nodded.
He held up his phone. “Three… two… one… go!”
I snatched the first shot off the counter and downed it in one smooth gulp. I had a head start because Maya despised tequila, but she made up for lost time on the second shot, since I hated pure vodka.
I slammed the glass down, my heart racing. The counter was sticky with spilled alcohol, but I paid no mind to the liquid soaking my shirtsleeve or my friends’ cheers.
There was only one thing on my mind: winning.
I didn’t care that I was on a self-imposed alcohol fast, which I’d already broken, or that I was no longer seventeen and in—
Somewhere in the distance, glass shattered.
The rum went down the wrong pipe, and I choked, my vision blacking out for a second as the sound wrenched a buried memory out of its casket.
The crash of bone hitting china. The screams. The stampede.
My fault.
My fault.
My fault.
My head pounded. The music dulled, and a gallery of images flickered through my mind. Bits and pieces of my life since that night, woven together by a tenuous string of anxiety and persistent, unrelenting doubt.
Then the song changed to some frenetic synth-pop number, and I was flung back into reality.
The Vault. The Five Trials. Maya.
I finished the rest of the rum and knocked back the last shot, my eyes still burning from my earlier choking fit, but it was too late.
Maya slammed her empty glass on the counter mere seconds before me. Xavier grabbed her hand and raised it in the air. “Ding ding ding! We have a winner! Sorry, Laurent.” He patted me with his free hand. “Better luck next time.”
I forced a smile over the continued hammering of my heart. “Can’t win them all. Congrats, Sal.” I inclined my head toward her. “You’ve redeemed yourself after last time.”
Maya snorted. “Last time was almost ten years ago. I don’t think about it anymore.”
“Lying again.” I tsked as Xavier returned to Sloane’s side. She appeared mostly relieved that her shoes had survived the Five Trials intact.
“I know you can hold your alcohol, but add that Trials thing to the list of challenges you should never do,” Ayana told Vuk. “I almost threw up watching it.”
He chuckled.
While our friends broke off into their own little worlds, I kept my attention on Maya. “You never forget a loss. I bet the outcome of our last challenge keeps you up at night.”
“If we’re going to go there, I could say the same for you.”
“A drinking contest doesn’t mean much to me.”
“Maybe not, but I know you.” She shrugged. “You lost, and it’s killing you inside.”
Despite our back-and-forth, the interaction lacked our usual edge. Maya was practically glowing after five consecutive shots and a victory, and I was… not happy, exactly, but I was glad to see her return to form. It restored the sense of balance in my world.
My gaze swept over her face, taking in her bright eyes and flushed cheeks. Whatever haunted her earlier had subsided, and that was worth taking the loss this time.
Only once, though.
I didn’t make a habit of coming in second.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” I took out my wallet and slipped the bartender an extra fifty for their help. “I guess I’ll go home now and lick my wounds in private.”
“You’re joking, but just know that mental image brings me great pleasure.” Maya gave the delighted bartender a hundred-dollar bill.
My mouth quirked. She had to one-up me at everything, including tipping.
“Good to know mental images of me give you pleasure.” A laugh climbed up my throat at her horrified expression.
“That’s not—”
“Have a good night, Sal. I’ll see you Monday.” I nodded goodbye to my friends, but Maya’s hand caught my sleeve before I left.
“Seb.”
I paused, my muscles tensing. I needed to get out of here before I had a fucking breakdown, but her light touch effectively tethered me to the spot.
Maya looked up at me, her expression softening a smidge. “Thank you.”
My chest constricted. Of course she figured it out. She always did.
A dozen unspoken words passed between us, charging the air and making it thicken to the point of suffocation.
It set my world dangerously akilter again, but I remembered what happened the last time I’d been this off-balance. I had no desire to relive the experience.
I removed her hand from my sleeve. The brief graze of my skin against hers sent a small jolt up my arm. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I walked away.
I didn’t look back, but the memory of her touch lingered. So did the echo of shattering glass.
I set my jaw and continued walking, out through the door and down the sidewalk, until those memories were nothing more than faint imprints in time.