by S. R. Watson
“Okay guys,” she slurs. She has completed all of her dares and truths, but just chose to drink for the hell of it. “Nevaeh can’t answer any of your sex questions because she hasn’t had any. She’s a virgin, you morons,” she hiccups.
“I call bullshit,” Landon accuses. He looks at me, but I can’t answer the unspoken question in his eyes. Yes, I lied Landon. I’m going to kill Peyton.
“How is that even possible?” Gavin asks dumbfounded.
“Is it true?” Giselle whispers. I can only nod in the affirmative.
“Virgin, my ass,” Landon responds. “That’s what they all say before you get in that shit and damn near fall in.”
“Oh. My. God. Thor. That is not nice,” Giselle chastises. He is visibly upset at my admission. His fists are clenched and I swear his eyes can singe me on the spot. I try to get up to get away from his punishing stare, but I stumble and fall back to the sand.
“Holy shit. She is out of there man,” Mike says to Landon. My stomach picks this time to roll. I have just enough time to crawl a couple feet away from the group before I toss my cookies. Seeing this starts a chain reaction with both Peyton and Giselle following my lead. The men oddly enough are still somewhat sober. They didn’t consume anything close to the alcohol we did. Gavin is at my side within seconds with a wet paper towel to wipe my mouth. I look over and see Mike and Landon doing the same for Giselle and Peyton. I watch as Landon picks up Giselle and carries her to the truck. I hold on tightly to Gavin and try to remain upright as we follow behind them. The sight of them together is visual torture. I bury my face into Gavin’s biceps. My body feels like Jell-O, yet my heart still aches for the man who has shown me nothing but disdain since I arrived. I get back into my seat with Gavin’s help and then he gets in bedside me. Peyton sits in the middle row with Mike. I close my eyes on the ride back to the apartment and just pray my bout of vomiting is done at least until we get home.
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