ᦓꪻꪖ᥅ꪶ꠸ᧁꫝꪻ ᦔ᥅ꫀꪖꪑᦓ

Clearly seeing he wasn’t about to make any headway, Chris grabbed her phone from the would-be ‘pile’ between them, giving it a playful shake right in her face. “The whole idea of this game is experiencing the horrible, gut-churning threat of me having my way with this beautiful baby.”

She wrinkled her nose, pushing her phone (and consequently, his hand) away. “Okay, ew. I’d super appreciate a little rephrasing.”

“You could dare me to rephrase,” he taunted, raising his eyebrows about as high as they could go. “That’s definitely a thing you could do. Well, i-i-if it was your turn, that is. But since it’s not…”

Much as it pained her to do so, she turned away from him before the puppydog eyes could take effect. “Since it’s not, then, truth.”

Turned out, she didn’t need to be looking at him; his disappointment was audible. Perfectly audible. “For the love—okay, fine. Fine. That’s how you want to do this? Guess I’m gonna have to break out the big guns.”

“Oh no, not the big guns…” she snickered, crossing one leg over the other as she let herself sink that much deeper into the couch cushions. Upstairs, someone cheered as if in response, the noise quickly followed by the muffled thumpthumpthump of footsteps. A part of her was a little hurt that no one had noticed their absence, but if she was being honest, a much, much bigger part of her was relieved.

The couch squeaked as Chris leaned forward, setting his elbows on his knees. He looked down to let his glasses slide to the very end of his nose before he looked up again, the effect hilariously (read: horrendously) reminiscent of a naughty librarian. “What…is…the…steamiest thing you’ve ever written when you should’ve been paying attention to class?”

Her eyes rolled so hard the rest of her head went with them. “Oh my Go—I don’t write ‘steamy,’ Chris.”

“Ohoho! Is that a nonanswer I hear?”

“I don’t!” she insisted, throwing her arms out before folding them tightly over her chest. “That’s…it’s not in my wheelhouse, all right?”

“Still not an answer.”

“There’s no anwer to give, doofus.” Hoping it would serve as punctuation, she stuck her tongue out at him, quickly trying to take her turn (and change the subject). “Point me. Now, truth or—”

“Ah ah ah…” The tsk-tsking wasn’t helping the naughty librarian image. It just wasn’t. Whether he knew that or not, Chris seemed terribly pleased of himself as he brandished her phone again, giving it another jaunty shake. “I have it on good authority that there is some grade-A, choice-cut, priiimo erotica hiding somewhere in here, Ash—”

A bridge too far, that was a bridge too far! She groaned aloud before making a futile swipe for it, Chris of course managing to yank it away right in time. “Literally what are you talking about?! There’s nothing—”

“Sam says—”

“Sam?! Why have you been talking to Sam about—”

“One last chaaance,” he singsonged, doubling in on himself when she began smacking at his arm. “I have ways of making you talk, Mr. Bond. So whaddya think? You gonna give me the hot goss vis-à-vis your lewd lecture hall literature, or am I gonna have to unlock this sweet thang and go looking myself?”

Sitting back with a huff, Ashley gave in. Admitted defeat, as it were. Would she say that much out loud? No! Never! Absolutely not! But in her head, she had to give it to him: Going with dare would’ve been way easier than this.

“If you never say any of those words in that order again,” she sighed, yanking the brim of her beanie down over her eyes, “I will tell you.”

“I don’t think that’s how the game works, but okay, sure. Cross my heart.”

And then the basement was silent. Save for the ambient sounds of the party raging upstairs, there was—

Wait. Wait.

Ashley took a deep breath in, preparing herself for what came next. Slowly, she pushed her beanie back up so she could see, surreptitiously scoping out Chris’s position beside her. “Okay,” she said when the plan gelled in her head, “fine. So. I guess. There was this one time. Where I wrote…”

She froze. Widened her eyes. Lifted her hand the tiniest bit when Chris made a sound.

“Holy cow,” she whispered, then, louder, “oh my gosh, do you hear them? What time is it?! Chris, I think they started the countdown!”

“What?! No way! I could’ve sworn—”

Rookie mistake. Chris tapped his own phone to check the time, giving her the perfect opening to jump up from the couch and snatch hers out of his hand. In a flash, she dropped it down the front of her sweater (time was of the essence, after all), making it disappear a split-second before he realized what had happened.

“Are you kidding me? Party foul! Extreme party foul, Ash, grounds for disqualification! That was…okay, it was a little impressive, I’m not gonna lie, but mostly, mostly, it was sneaky. And uncool. You know, if Josh was here to referee, I’m at least seventy-five percent sure he’d say I was well within my rights to confiscate your phone for the rest of the night.”

“If you want it that bad, come get it,” she snorted. “I dare you.”

Really tried to learn into the ambient horror of the game. Getting trapped atop a mountain where the only option you have is to venture into the snowy forest. It's impossible to leave on foot. The trees are dense. Treading through snow is exhausting. But there is something in the woods with you, and you do not know where or when it will get you, only that it wants to.