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finally concedes. “Actually, no.”

My brow quirks when he speaks up, changing his mind.

He volleys a look between Joss and Dane before asking a question. “You two are just friends, right?” he asks.

Drawing in an uneven breath, Joss nods. “Yeah. Since we were kids.”

River’s wicked smile reminds me of Wests, which means trouble. “Fine. I dare you and Dane to kiss. And I’m not talking some weak-ass, kindergarten kiss,” he clarifies. “Sit in his lap and really get into that shit.”

While most are laughing and intrigued to see how this particular challenge will play out, I’m focused on Joss, feeling her anxiety as she finally gets up the nerve to look at Dane. When their eyes lock, I only see sympathy in his, genuine concern for the girl he calls his best friend. But for those of us who see how they are with each other
 we know it’s much, much more than that.

“You don’t have to do this,” he says quietly, holding Joss’s gaze.

She breathes deep again, but sucks up whatever she’s feeling for the sake of the game.

“No, it’s fine. Really.”

She says that, but the look on her face says otherwise.

I remember our talk clearly from the other day. She didn’t deny feeling something for Dane, but did make it clear she thinks they’re wrong for each other. She also insisted on not risking their friendship to find out if that’s true.

With all eyes on her, she stands from the couch and straightens her Rudolph tee over the waistband of the black stretch-pants she changed into after dinner. Dane’s eyes are glued to her, lowering with Joss as she straddles him in the giant armchair he chose at the start of the game.

I can’t help but wonder, is this the closest they’ve ever gotten? Sure, I’ve seen them hug before, but this is certainly more intimate than a hug.

Now face-to-face, Joss presses both palms to either side of Dane’s neck. Breathing wildly, she inches closer. His hands lift from where he once seemed resolved to keep them at his sides, deciding to take a chance holding her waist. They’re so close now that ringlets from her bangs touch his forehead. His chest rises when he draws in a breath and there’s barely enough space between her lips and his to slide a sheet of paper. But then, right before crossing the point of no return


“I can’t,” she announces, letting her eyes fall closed while she and Dane continue to hold one another.

“I knew it,” River says with a deep laugh.

There’s a clear sense of regret in Joss’s expression. Is it that she’s sorry she let the dare go as far as it did? Or
 is she upset she didn’t have the nerve to go through with it? Either way, I feel for the girl.

Positively mortified, she mouths a heartfelt, “I’m sorry,” to Dane.

He, of course, assures her he’s not mad, going as far as to pull her in for a hug. She buries her face in his shoulder before attempting to stand, but he stops her.

“Actually, hang on a sec,” Dane says, taking hold of her arm before she rises.

She seems confused, but not West. That triplet thing where they read each other’s minds kicks in again. All it takes is a quick glance from Dane, and West tosses him a throw pillow. Before letting Joss go, he wedges it between them, and now I get it.

Yup. Definitely hiding a boner.

“You lose. That means you get a penalty,” River announces, rubbing the failure in Joss’s face.

Heading straight for the shot glasses sitting on the bar against the far wall, he fills it to the brim with a hot sauce so hot they swear it’ll make you wish for death.

Slowly, Joss makes her way over and, after staring at the glass for a few seconds, she downs it.

Right away, she looks like she is in fact wishing for death.

“My go again,” River says. “West, truth or dare?”

“I don’t trust you fuckers. Truth,” he answers.

River looks visibly disappointed.

“Fine. Sorry in advance, Blue, but this is something I’ve been wondering for a couple years now,” he says before glaring at West. “The last time you visited, did you screw that chick who stopped by with her grandmother? I think the lady was an old friend of Aunt Sheryl.”

West sighs and shakes his head. “No, that didn’t happen.”

“She had to have at least sucked you off or something,” River insists. “You two were behind the house for a long time.”

“Well, good thing you only get one damn question,” West groans, shooting River a hateful look. “Now, it’s my turn. Linden, truth or dare?”

Linden peers up from his phone, tucking it away before he answers, “Uh
 dare. Why not.”

“Pass your phone to Scar and let her read whatever text just came through,” West says, prompting my sister to hold her hand out with a grin.

Linden smiles back and there’s a certain level of chemistry I see brewing between them, which means they’ve clearly warmed up to one another.

“Brace yourself,” Linden teases, to which Scar responds with a light nudge of her knee.

She stares at the screen and reads. “It says: ‘The vid Kyle posted of the band’s last gig got a ton of hits and brought new faces to The Loft! Rue’s itching to get you guys in to do another set. Got any free weekends coming up?’ And
 scene,” Scar adds with a smile when she finishes and passes Linden’s phone back.

West’s attempt at embarrassing the guy turned out to be one more thing for Scar to fawn over.

Shit.

“Tell him we’re open in a few weeks,” Keaton pipes up.

Linden finally manages to tear his eyes away from Scar long enough to reply to the text. Then, when he’s done, he has her right back in his sights.

“Scarlett, truth or dare?” he asks.

It doesn’t surprise me even a little that he chose her.

“Truth,” she answers.

Good girl.

That sly, you-know-you-want-me grin of his is back. “Fine. What’s your favorite part of the male body?” he asks.

Scar

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