The Pact(44)

“You afraid she’s going to like it?” she retorts haughtily.

“I’m down,” Penny says. She elbows James in the side. “Hey, grow up. It’s just a little tonsil hockey.”

“The maturity level at this table astounds me,” Linden comments.

Now everyone is looking at me, I guess expecting me to protest or at least find this weird and unacceptable. The thing is, when I imagine Aaron kissing Penny, or doing her and Nadine as he mentioned in the previous scenario, I don’t even feel a twinge of unease. No jealousy, no nothing.

“Why are you all looking at me, I don’t care,” I tell everyone. It probably isn’t the best show of my love for him but whatever. “Kiss away. He’s good at it.” I add that last part for Penny and wink at her, mainly to piss off James.

Penny starts to lean across the table toward Aaron but Nadine yelps, “No, do it properly! You have to stand up.”

Both Penny and Aaron sigh, simultaneously aggravated by the fact that they have to move. They gather at the end of the table, right beside me so I get the front row show. Aaron grabs her around the waist, Penny grabs him by the face. They both giggle nervously, eyeing us shyly before they kiss.

It starts off slow and awkward, gets a bit more heated when you can tell their tongues are going into action, and then ends on a sweet note.

“Not bad,” Penny says, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Firm but tender.”

“So kissing Aaron is like kissing steak?” Linden jokes.

Aaron gives James the thumbs up. “Nice lady you’ve got there.”

“Lady?” Penny repeats. “Oh brother.”

But they sit back down and the game resumes. James doesn’t seem bothered by it anymore and to be honest, I still didn’t feel anything as I watched that. It was just kind of weird, like I was observing some sort of experiment and not getting the results I wanted.

Did I want him to enjoy it, to want to kiss Penny? Did I want that as an excuse to break it off, to say we weren’t meant to be together?

I guess because of the extremeness of the last dare, things go back to truth telling for a while. We’re all playing it safe now, asking the easy questions, the ones you don’t mind being truthful about as long as you’re among friends.

Then it’s Penny’s turn.

She claps her hands together gleefully and wiggles in her seat. “Oh, this is going to be good,” she says and as she says it, she’s staring right at me. I can see the fire’s reflection in her lenses.

“I want you, Stephanie,” she says, pointing at me, “to kiss Linden.” Her finger switches over to him.

I’m too stunned to speak but Nadine isn’t.

“He’s not kissing her!” she exclaims in disgust.

“Hey,” I can’t help but protest, tired of the way she’s been referring to me lately.

“And, again,” James says, sounding fed-up, “that is not how you play the game.”

Penny slaps the table with her hands and leans over it so she can look down the table and Nadine in the eye. “Why can’t she kiss him? You made me kiss Aaron, her boyfriend. I think now she should kiss your boyfriend.”

I know what Penny’s doing. She’s trying to make things even and I think trying to rattle Nadine at the same time. I could kiss her for that but I also kind of fucking hate her for daring me to kiss Linden.

Because, I mean…I can’t do that.

I can’t even think that.

But suddenly there is a tap at my shoulder and it’s Linden. He’s gotten up and he’s standing behind me, waiting for me.

“Hold on,” I say and I look over at Aaron because at least Aaron is going to protest as much as Nadine is.

But Aaron is staring at me, smiling actually, with that damn goofy grin, and nodding his head like this is the coolest idea in the whole entire world. “Go on,” he says and nudges me with his arm.

Thanks a fucking lot, I think to myself and I slowly get up, all the while trying not to look at Linden. But I can’t look at Nadine either because her arms are folded across her chest and I’m paranoid she may pick up the empty beer bottle beside her and throw it at me. I know if she did, Penny would have my back in a second, but still. It could break my nose and my nose is cute.

Linden grabs my hand – actually grabs it, like this a thing that we do, grab hands – and he pulls me toward him.

“Come on,” he says to me with that trademark smirk. “I’m not that horrible, am I?”

No, I think as I stare at his face and feel the heat from his hand transfer onto mine and warm my whole arm, then my chest, then my body. No, you’re not horrible at all. That’s the problem.