ends up looking silly. By the time she’s done, we’re all busting up laughing.
Genevieve bows deeply and plops down in her chair, sitting sideways so her legs drape over the rolled arm.
“Nice one,” Ryou says, giving her a high five. His cheeks are pink from laughter.
“Thanks,” she smiles back, looking pleased.
“My turn. I choose dare,” Adrienne says.
“I dare you to go ten minutes without holding Mikhail’s hand,” Cal says.
Adrienne’s face flushes magenta as the rest of us crack up.
Even Mikhail looks sheepish under his beard.
We’ve all noticed that Adrienne can’t seem to stop holding Mikhail’s hand now that they’re dating. It’s actually really sweet.
“I can go ten minutes,” Adrienne mumbles, but she’s already twitching as she lets go of her boyfriend’s hand where they’re sitting on adjoining plush chairs, across from Ricardo and me.
“Ricardo, it’s your turn,” my stepsister says, taking the attention off herself.
“Thanks, chouchou. I pick dare.”
I snort. “Of course.”
His eyes peruse my face. “You know it.”
Adrienne glances between us before focusing on Ricardo. “I dare you to look into Charlotte eyes and tell her two things you like about her—”
“And one you can’t stand!” Gul cuts in.
“Gross,” Cal grumbles.
Genevieve busies herself with putting on a new layer of lip gloss.
I’m not entirely surprised at Adrienne’s dare. My sister is a hopeless romantic who wants all of us to be as blissfully happy as she is. I should have predicted she’d come up with mushy dares.
Ricardo laughs. “Are you trying to get me killed?” But he turns and locks eyes with me.
I have no idea why, but my heart is picking up speed as I look into his eyes. They’re amber brown with darker rims. Who knew making eye contact with the guy I hate could be so intense?
Taking my hand, Ricardo speaks. “Charlotte, I like how, when you care about something, you throw yourself into it with everything you’ve got.” His eyes flick over me. “And you’re so—
“Watch it,” I warn.
“I was going to say graceful,” he laughs.
A curl of pleasure unfurls in my chest. I stamp it down with vehemence.
“Now something you hate,” Gul says, prodding him.
Ricardo rubs his jaw, trying to hide his smile. He’s loving this.
I, on the other hand, have never felt so exposed. I can’t tell if he’s being honest, or screwing with me, and it’s throwing me off balance.
“Don’t take this personally, but you’re always wound so tight. You never relax. I always feel like I have to be on my game around you. I wish you’d let your guard down once in a while.”
Genevieve winces, and Adrienne only just stops herself from nodding in agreement.
Does everyone think I’m a tight-ass? It’s not a bad thing to be at peak performance all the time. I have expectations to meet. My parents’ and my own. I don’t have time for laziness. The idea that everyone thinks I’m wound so tight irks me, making me feel defensive. “I can’t let my guard down, especially so you can feel better about yourself. I don’t compromise. You have no idea how much pressure I’m under from my parents, and with my goals for myself. If I relax, that gives someone else the opportunity to do something better than me, get there before I do, and that’s not acceptable.”
I scoot away from him and cross my arms. Annoyance at his honesty flares hot in my chest, even as guilt enters the equation. Just because I was feeling attacked doesn’t mean I should poke at Ricardo. Even if I do hate him. I huff out the steam that has gathered in my head. It’s just a game, but I have a feeling I’ve just played into Gul’s hands. If she wanted to rile me up, or provoke me into giving her something to gossip about, she succeeded. Stifling my frustration at Ricardo, I uncoil my muscles. If I stay clenched like this, my neck and shoulders will pay for it tomorrow.
“I’m not asking you to dim your light to stroke my ego, chère. I just want to have a little fun with my girlfriend. With you.”
Now I feel guilty for blasting Ricardo, but I refuse to look him in the eye, even if what he just said was kind of sweet.
When I glance up, everyone is staring at me.
“What?” I ask.
Genevieve clears her throat. “It’s your turn, Char.”
“Oh. Right. I pick dare.” I’m in the mood to run yodeling down the hall, or doorbell ditch Ms. Poppin, or something like that. That is not the dare I