Page 75 of Darkness Defined

“What do you mean?” His face squished in confusion. It was adorable.

“I mean, you can’t just choose dare. I know you, Matt.”

He frowned. “That also means you can’t just choose truth.”

I stuck out my tongue, earning a cheeky grin.

“You go first.”

“Does that mean I ask first or I pick first?” I took a sip of the beer he passed me.

He rolled his eyes. “Truth or dare.”

“Truth.” I laughed when he gave an even more exaggerated eye roll.

“What is the dorkiest thing in your room?”

I shrugged and swirled the half empty bottle. “I guess that depends on who you ask.”

“I’m asking you.”

“Um, I don’t know.” I went through a mental inventory of the things in my room for something he would deem dorky. “Oh! I have a poster of the university from when I was like seven.”

He snorted. “You do not.”

“I totally do. Okay, you: truth or dare.”

“Dare”

“Of course.” I fought the urge to roll my eyes right back at him. Maybe I could dissuade him from constantly choosing a dare by making the first one awful. I noticed he’d already kicked off his socks and shoes. I shifted and looked him dead in the eye with as straight a face as I could muster. “I dare you to lick the bottom of your foot.”

He didn’t even hesitate, just grabbed his ankle and dragged his tongue from heel to toe.

I cringed and gave a full body shake. “That’s disgusting.”

He coughed through a grimace. “No kidding.” He washed away the taste with another shot of tequila and a swallow of beer. “Another?”

I accepted the fresh beer but declined the shot. “Truth.”

“You didn’t even let me ask. Fine, you want to play like that.” He gave me a serious look, his eyes squinted and his luscious mouth pursed with intensity. “When was your first kiss?”

“Oh, goodness,” I gasped and sat back. “I don’t even remember.”

“Liar.”

“Busted. Alright, my first technical kiss would be Carla Rushing when I was ten.” I ducked my head at the confession.

Matt spit out some of his beer. “No shit.”

“But, the one that I would consider my first was Brandon later that year. For the record, I never saw it coming. What about you?” I asked.

He scowled behind his beer. “Hey, I didn’t choose anything.”

“You’re choosing truth.” I poured him a shot. “Come on, cough it up.”

“Fine. I was twelve. Shut up,” he added when I snickered. “It was Michelle Carter, and she told me I was terrible.”

“You are definitely not terrible.”