in a productive three hours of studying today. It wouldn’t kill me to take a break. Still, I try one more thing. “You’re a junior. You know how important this year is for college. Don’t you think you should do some homework too?”
Ricardo nods. “I do know how important this year is, but I also know it’s good to take a break. Relax a little.” Gently, he pries the tablet out of my clenched fingers. Shutting it off, he sets it on my desk. “Your sister has everyone upstairs in the lounge for a game of truth or dare, and she’d like you to come. I told her I’d use my irresistible charm to fetch you, and how will it look if I can’t get my girlfriend to come up for a scintillating game of sharing our deepest, darkest secrets?”
“I don’t have any deep, dark secrets,” I insist, crossing my arms. We both know that’s a whopper of a lie.
Ricardo merely arches an eyebrow. “Then maybe you’d prefer a dare? I know you’re dying to spend some time alone with me in a closet.”
My eyes widen in horror. “You wouldn’t dare.”
He grins. “Wouldn’t I? Imagine it. You and me alone in the dark. Of course, I’ll have to mess up your hair to keep my reputation intact. Can’t have people thinking I’ve lost my touch. It could be fun, you and me.”
“You aren’t touching my hair.”
Ricardo draws toward me. “You think I haven’t noticed the shivers you get whenever I do? I think you actually like it when I play with your hair.”
I press my lips in a tight line. He’s got me there. I’ve always loved it when people play with my hair. Especially guys. “Ugh. Fine. I’ll come. But no seven minutes in heaven crap, got it?”
“Deal.” Taking my hands, he pulls me out of my chair.
I don’t bother to let go, because he’ll want to hold hands as soon as we’re in the hallway. Appearances, and all that.
When we get up to the lounge, it’s packed. A roar goes up from a group of guys huddled around one of the two pool tables. A couple of girls stand at the stove, frying something on a griddle. Not only are Adrienne, Mikhail, Genevieve, Ryou, Cal, and Asif there, so are Gul and Grady.
I shouldn’t be surprised. Gul probably picked up the scent of a game of truth or dare like my mom on the scent of a forbidden carbohydrate. Gul could sniff out dirt in a snow storm. Appropriate, given that there are snowflakes falling outside the lounge window.
I tremble, wishing I’d brought a sweater. It’s chilly up here.
Ricardo must see it, because he pulls his gray hoodie over his head and offers it to me.
I want to decline, but Adrienne is looking at us like we’re the cutest thing since that video of baby chipmunks she showed me last week, so I take the hoodie and pull it on. The inside smells of Ricardo—a musty earthy scent that, when combined with the warmth lingering from his body, makes me feel so cozy I could take a nap in it. I may detest Ricardo, but this hoodie is nice. I just might leverage my fake girlfriend privilege into keeping it.
I sit primly on the last free couch, and Ricardo plops down way too close to me, pulling me nearer until I’m leaning back against his shoulder and his arm is around me. The familiarity of it isn’t terrible, but as soon as I think that thought I reject it. Of course it’s terrible. This is Ricardo. A guy I’ve sworn to hate for his treatment of my best friend and my stepsister. He gives me a little attention—fake attention, at that—and suddenly I’m letting him snuggle with me on a couch?
Adrienne pipes up, explaining her rules for the game. We roll dice to see who goes first, and it falls to Genevieve. She asks for a dare.
“I’ve got one,” Gul says. “Sing that song that’s always on the radio. The one about east coast girls. Loudly enough to bring the rest of the boys out of their rooms.”
It’s a good dare. Genevieve is a terrible singer.
She blushes, and everyone laughs. Standing up, she clears her throat and starts to sing.
I can’t help but crack up when she gets to the bridge, which is a rap. Genevieve attempts to look cool as she moves through the upbeat words, but with her lithe figure and cinnamon brown waves, she just