Chapter 9 Caulder
Caulder
I should’ve thought this through before agreeing to play, I know. I can tell by the way Avery’s eyes keep cutting to me that she’s thinking the same thing, trying to launch her disapproval directly from her eyes into my skull.
I haven’t stopped thinking about Emerson’s taunting earlier, trying to get under Avery’s—and my—skin.
I should’ve stopped him right when he started in on her.
But I have to admit…part of me wanted to know what, exactly, Avery would say.
What is going on with us? At least, what would she say? Because I know I have my reasons.
But one thing’s certain: I shouldn’t have let Emerson keep going. I should’ve stopped that shit the second it started.
That’s why this game is so clearly a mistake.
Sure, so far, no one’s dared to poke the bear—well, unless you count Lucas’s question about Delaney, but Kaitlyn looks so unfazed that it doesn’t seem like it really bothered her that much.
Someone will ask something soon that gets to the heart of what’s festering at the center of this team, though. Someone will ask something real.
Currently, Marlene’s hands are trembling as she reaches for a piece near the middle of the tower.
We’ve cleaned out the easy picks at the top, so it’s getting more precarious.
She swallows, steadies her fingers, and slips a piece out.
She exhales and smiles with relief, then considers the group as she holds on to the wooden block.
Her eyes land on me.
“Caulder,” she says in a shaky voice. “Truth or dare?”
So far, I’ve only had to go once. Mostly, people have been picking on Lucas because he’s an easy and cooperative target.
Plus, Lucas has been retaliating with easy truths and dares.
I said dare the first time Lucas picked me and had to attempt a handstand.
Marlene would probably do the same, right? Give me something easy?
“Don’t be a bitch, Grant,” Emerson says, still sipping from his glass. Avery keeps glancing at it, and I know she’s bursting to tell him not to drink.
“Truth,” I say, just because I know it’ll piss him off.
Emerson groans. “I thought this was going to be exciting. Where are the stakes with you guys?”
“We’re just trying to decompress,” Avery says, drawing my gaze to her. She’s perched on the edge of the biggest leather couch, balanced as if she might bolt at any moment. She must feel me watching her because she glances at me, only to immediately divert her eyes to the Jenga tower.
“I hate to say it, but Emerson’s right,” Kaitlyn says, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “You guys are being so boring. Ask a real question, Marlene.”
Marlene’s cheeks burn bright red, and she fidgets with the block still in her hand before speaking.
“Fine,” she says. “Caulder, have you ever been in love?”
Immediately, it’s like someone opened the door and let in a blizzard. Kaitlyn stiffens from her place on the couch, blue eyes staring straight ahead. Next to her, Javi sits up straighter, his eyes finding mine and immediately boring into me.
We don’t talk about Kaitlyn. In fact, the last time we did was when he found me after a game in the locker room and told me, “Hey, man. There’s no easy way to say this. I’m with Kait.”
He didn’t ask my permission because he didn’t have to.
Kaitlyn could do what she wanted to, after all, and so could he.
Plus, he’d been playing three years of baseball with me and knew me better than most guys.
Most importantly, he knew I wasn’t torn up about ending things with her.
If anything, I was in a better mood since I didn’t have to worry about checking in with her all the time.
So I told him I was happy for him, and I meant it.
But this? This is different. Kaitlyn and I were together for a year.
People had their ideas about us. Hell, we had our ideas about us.
But I know the truth now. What I felt for Kaitlyn wasn’t love.
And frankly, I don’t think she loved me, either.
But that doesn’t matter now. Because if I say I never loved her, I’m the asshole.
I’m the dick who dated Kaitlyn Bendix, future Olympian, and didn’t love her.
Even without looking, I know Avery’s watching me—shit, everyone’s watching me, waiting for my answer.
I focus on keeping my face steady, expressionless.
Wiping it clean the way I do when I need to go out on the mound to impress the coaches and scouts.
Because if I have to give up an answer right now, the least I can do is avoid showing them how I really feel on top of it.
“No,” I say.
It’s one word, but it lances through the room just like Marlene’s question did. No turning back now.
“Well then,” Emerson says, blowing out air. “Maybe it is getting interesting. Caulder, your turn.”
I nod, looking at the tower. I’m running out of easy options, but there’re still a few for me to grab. I set my sights on a piece near the bottom that looks to be surrounded by plenty of other blocks that can hold up the tower without my chosen piece. I pinch the edge of it and slowly slide it out.
I don’t exhale until it’s sitting safely in my palm.
“Nicely done,” Lucas says.
He knows it was an easy piece. He’s not really talking about that, is he? He’s complimenting me on my handling of Marlene’s question. He’s telling me it’s all right without saying those exact words.
My eyes sweep over the group until I find Emerson, still swirling the fucking ice cubes in his drink, and something in me snaps.
“Emerson,” I say. “Truth or dare?”
His weasel-like smile broadens, blue eyes flashing in the flickering firelight. He sets his drink down as he moves from where he was standing and flops onto the easy chair nearest to me.
“Dare,” he says. “Absolutely, dare.”
You can smell the alcohol on him, mixed with his shitty cologne.
Actually, it’s almost definitely not a shitty cologne.
It’s probably some bullshit he has imported from France or Italy, made in small batches by assholes who literally spend their entire lives studying scents or whatever.
But on him, it just makes him smell like a douchebag.
“What are you going to have me do, Caulder?” Emerson says, excitement in every syllable. “Make out with someone? Strip down? Break something? Punch someone?”
“Can you just let me think?” I say, pressing my fingers into my temple.
What do I want Emerson Butler to do? I don’t want to subject any of the women in the room to his pawing, that’s for sure. And I’m obviously not about to encourage him to start a fight.
Shit. This was a bad decision. I should’ve just gone with Lucas or something. I have no idea what the fuck to say. And now everyone’s staring at me, waiting for me to come up with a dare.
“I don’t know,” I say. “Just…dance or something.”
Emerson’s face falls, immediately looking disappointed. “For how long?”
“A minute, I guess,” I say.
Emerson stretches out his fingers and cracks his neck, making Kaitlyn gag.
Then, he gets up on the chair and gyrates.
Lucas times him, and it’s as horrible as I imagined watching Emerson dance would be.
But he’s not embarrassed. He loves it. He even thrusts in Marlene’s and Avery’s directions, clearly loving the way they hold up their hands to cover their eyes and shake their heads.
They’re laughing, which eggs him on, until at last the timer sounds and he’s told to stop.
“That was traumatizing,” Kaitlyn says.
“You loved it,” Emerson purrs, then moves to examining the Jenga tower. “Which one will I pick?”
He makes a big show of looking at the tower from multiple angles.
He leans in and out, asks for suggestions, until finally selecting a piece.
Like the one I picked, it’s near the bottom, but it’s not surrounded by many other pieces.
Still, Emerson zeroes in on it, carefully jiggling the wood out of its place.
Fall, I want to shout. Fall and give me another chance to punish this asshole.
But it doesn’t. The tower does sway a little, but it doesn’t topple over. And Emerson holds the piece up like a goddamn Oscar, grinning widely as he peers around at all of us.
“Now,” he says. “My first victim of the night.”
I wait for him to throw my pathetic dare back at me, but his gaze shifts almost immediately. Not onto Javi or Lucas or Marlene or Kaitlyn.
“Avery,” he says. “Truth…or dare?”
For as long as I’ve known her, Avery’s always had her tells. A small quirk of her lips when she’s trying not to blurt something out. A tilt of her head when she’s judging you. The tiniest shake of her hand when she makes a mistake.
A slight widening of her eyes when she’s caught off guard by a question.
It’s gone almost as soon as it appears, though. Smoothed out and hidden under her usual expression, which mixes boredom and annoyance, as if whatever you’ve asked her is far beneath her. She turns that expression on Emerson now as she lifts her chin.
“Truth.”