Elena’s POV

“Truth or dare!” One of their voices rings out, despite the raging music all around us. The guy with the pure eyes has successfully ignored me, but he isn’t exactly playing the game either. And no one bothers him.

"Elena!" Elizabeth nudges me again for the umpteenth time that night. I jump and look towards her, wondering what it is this time, until I see half the eyes in the circle watching me too.

“What?”

“It’s your turn,” she whispers. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” I blurt, not wanting to be caught doing something that gets plastered across billboards in a few hours. It is one of my fears, being known for something I am not proud of. My mantra has been the same since I was a kid.

To keep my head low and do what I have to do to make ends meet.

And this doesn’t directly fall into the path.

“Have you ever had sex before, Elena?”

The question makes my eyes fall wide open. It is from the guy sitting beside me. The same one who hasn't asked one question since this game started.

He now has his eyes on me, regarding me intently. I squirm under the intensity of those grey eyes and try to look away. But for some reason, it is practically impossible.

My throat feels parched, and I desperately begin to crave water. Without thinking, I reach for the glass set in front of me a few minutes ago and gulp down its whole content.

Elizabeth's mouth opens as her hands dash out to stop me, but it is too late as every single drop is down my throat. Her mouth closes slowly just as she nods.

“That wasn’t water, Elena,” she murmurs, leaning in to me.

“Really?” I narrow my eyes. “Are you sure? Because it definitely tasted like water.”

"You don't have to answer the question," the grey-eyed guy mutters. "I could tell that you were a virgin the minute you stepped into the room."

“Hey!” It tumbles from my tongue before I can stop myself. “You don’t have proof of that.”

He angles his head at me, as if accepting an unspoken challenge.

“Are you going to answer the question?” Someone in the circle asks. “If you aren’t, we have the liberty to dare you.”

I look at the guy and then back to the group. Someone slurs in my head, but it is gone in a second, replaced by such sharp awareness.

The last thing I want to do is tell these strangers about my zero sex life, especially not the one next to me. I don't know him, and I probably will not see him after today. Yet, every inch of him makes me wary.

The nonchalance in his voice, the way he regards me from underneath his lashes, the way my body reacts, the heat that spreads through me, the need to keep watching him as my pulse races.

“Dare, then,” I mutter, feeling some level of confidence wash through me.

"Do you want to dare her?" Elizabeth asks him. What is everyone's obsession with his handling of my game?

He scans the room slowly, his eyes landing on a tall, lanky guy by the makeshift bar. "There. Talk to him and get him to kiss you. Bonus points if you get his number."

"What?" My breath hitches. "I thought…"

“It’s either that, or you take off three clothing items. I really doubt you would want to do that.”

I chew my bottom lip as I curse Elizabeth in my head. She is the reason I am here in the first place. My typical Friday night is spent in front of a television, watching some funny drama and laughing to my heart's content.

Because that is the only humour I get out of my life. The rest is hard and boring.

The shrill of Elizabeth's phone disrupts the circle for a second. She retrieves her phone, looks up at me, and winks. But in another second, she pulls herself off the couch and scurries in the opposite direction.

"I'll be back!" She calls over her shoulder.

Great. Just great.

Everyone in the little group still has their eyes on me. Sighing, I pull myself to my feet, then look at the grey-eyed man. "Fine. I'll do your stupid dare. But what do I get in return if I get him to kiss me?"

“That’s not how it….” Another person in the circle starts to say, but she gets cut off.

“Nothing, because I know you won’t kiss me.”

“Ouuuuu!” It spreads through the circle, making red patches appear on my cheeks.

“Game on!”

I walk away from the group and wobble slightly on my feet. My head feels light, and I remember the drink Elizabeth warned me about. It was definitely not water.

The lanky guy by the bar looks up at me when he senses me approaching, but my feet decide to act all up then. I trip on my own feet and feel myself fall forward. The first thing I think about is how everyone in the room will burst out in laughter, seeing me on the floor.

But that never happens as his surprisingly strong arms catch me before my face hits the floor. He smells of cedar wood and honey, an unusual but nice combination.

“Easy,” he murmurs, an easy amusement in his voice. “Are you good? Do you need water?”

I nod, groaning. “That was what got me here in the first place.”

He chuckles. “Water?”

“I ended up gulping down a whole glass of vodka because I was thirsty, but in my defence, it didn’t taste like vodka. It didn’t burn.”

He laughs heartily, reaching out to ruffle my hair. It feels warm.

“I’ll get you real water this time. It helps calm down the liquor.”

I nod, watching him move as he grabs a glass and walks to the sink, filling it with water. He returns a moment later and hands it to me.

“You’ll feel better once you have it.”

I remember the dare and decide that this should be easy after all. But from the corner of my eyes, I see a scowl plastered on the grey-eyed guy’s face as he gets off and stalks away.

Elena’s POV

My eyes follow him up the stairs until his tall frame disappears from view. Even then, I angle my head, still staring at the first landing of the stairs a full minute after he left.

“Waiting for someone?” the lanky guy questions casually, nodding towards the glass of water still in my hands.

Right. I gulp it down just as I did with the liquor and slide it over to him. I doubt it is going to do anything right now, but I desperately hope it works because the last thing I want is to be drunk in a room filled with strangers.

Where the hell did Elizabeth go?

“I’m Elliot,” he murmurs, angling his head.

“Elena.”

“I know.”

“What?”

He chuckles again as my attention returns fully to him. I study him under the dim lights. He has boyish features and charm, but I can tell he is much older. I can see it in his eyes, the gaze of someone who knows more than they let on.

But unlike the grey-eyed man, he is warm and actually friendly.

“You work at Café Black,” he continues, filling two red cups and handing one over to me.

I shake my head. “I’ve had enough for one night.”

“It’s red wine,” Elliot says. “This should be easier for you to consume.”

I accept it, even though I know he is wrong. I have a very low tolerance for alcohol consumed in any form. It doesn't matter that red wine doesn't contain as much alcohol as vodka. It has the same effect on me.

But Elliot doesn’t have to know that. I am hoping Elizabeth will be back soon so we can head home. I have to be at the café tomorrow.

"You frequent there?" I ask, taking a sip. I really doubt it. I would have noticed him, seeing as sometimes, the manager makes me attend to every single customer. He hates me. I have to give him that. But I can't complain because he signs my paycheck.

Elliot shakes his head.

“I own it.”

The red cup is in between my lips when he says that, and my head jerks backwards, taking in too much at once. I start coughing, and Elliot grabs the cup from me, placing it gingerly on the counter. Then, his hand comes down on my back, patting gently.

“I guess I should have given you that information in bits,” he chuckles.

“No.” I shake my head and clear my throat. He retrieves his hand just as I sit straight again. “I just wasn’t expecting you to say that.”

What if I had said something bad about the manager? Or worse, called it a shabby place. I would have been fired before tomorrow morning without even knowing the reason.

“It is one of my babies.” He seems fond of it. I wonder if he knows how his manager runs it. But the only thing I can think of right now is how Elliot is my boss and I have been dared to kiss him.

The rest of the group has returned to playing the game, but I can still feel their eyes on me at intervals. They are waiting.

I can’t do this.

“What is on your mind?” Elliot pushes slowly.

I shake my head.

“Come on,” he drawls. “You don’t have to act differently towards me just because I am your boss. And I don’t even like calling myself that. It’s the reason I leave staff matters to my manager. To you, tonight, I can just be Elliot.”

My lips open and close in rapid succession. What am I supposed to say?

“I can see it in your eyes,” he continues. “You came from that group over there, so let me guess. You were dared to kiss me?”

“Close,” I whisper. “I was dared to kiss you and then get your number.”

"But you don't have to do any of that," I add quickly, shaking my hands in his face for emphasis. "I don't mind losing the dare and having them make me do whatever they want me to do. You don't have to…."

“Do you know what they will make you do, Elena?”

I look at him wide-eyed.

“You will be dared to stand on a table and dance for the whole of the room to see, and that is if you are even allowed to do it clothed.”

I swallow. “What kind of ….”

"They are very passionate about their games. A piece of advice. Next time, when you come here, don't join them. They made their own rules for the game because it works for them. I don't think it does for you."

“I don’t think it does, either,” I murmur, my gaze going back to the spot he was seated a while ago.

I don’t know what is wrong with me. I need to stop thinking about those gray eyes.

“Here,” he starts, hooking a finger on my chin. “And I’ll give you my number too.”

When his lips come down on mine, it is nothing like the explosion I have heard is associated with first kisses. Elliot feels warm and kind, and his lips taste of the same red wine as mine. It is slightly intoxicating, but he pulls away before anything can form.

I touch my chest, waiting for my heart to race. It is racing, but not from this kiss, not from Elliot. He reaches out for a napkin and retrieves a pen from his pocket, scribbling his number into it.

“You can call me if you like.”

I laugh. “Thank you, Elliot.”

A tall blonde lady walks into the room with a lot of brightness in her eyes. She heads over to us, but has her eyes on Elliot. Understanding, I get off the stool and walk away, but I do not join the circle.

Instead, I go up the stairs, trying to find a bathroom. With all that alcohol in my system, it is bound to happen at some point.

"Are you lost, pretty girl?" a man drawls from the hallway upstairs.

“Bathroom,” I squeak.

He points to a door down the hallway, and I scurry in that direction. But when I push the door open, what jumps back at me does in no way resemble a bathroom.

Elena’s POV

"I'm sorry!" I gasp as soon as I walk in, but for some reason, I stay rooted to the spot, one hand covering my eyes and the door still open behind me. I hear his footsteps approach, and I seem to shrink into myself.

But he doesn’t touch me. Instead, I hear the door close behind me. When I pull my hands away from my eyes, he is watching me with an amused expression, but somewhere in his eyes is a tinge of anger.

It is hard for me not to stare at his body, and I can't help it as my eyes roam through the broad shoulders, well-toned abs, properly structured body, and a lean waist. He has the makings of someone who takes his gym life seriously, and that is saying a lot.

The only thing I have been able to manage consistently is my daily job at Café Black.

“Done staring?” he teases, pulling away from me and heading further into the room.

His room.

“You live here?” I find myself asking before I can stop the words from tumbling out of my lips. I should be apologizing for coming in here and maybe explaining that I am searching for the bathroom.

Instead, my eyes follow him around the room, that dry feeling in my throat back in full force. At least, now I know it doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with needing water.

"What are you doing here?" He leans on the edge of his bed and wraps his hand across his chest. "Are you done flirting and laughing with the man downstairs?"

He sounds angry.

“Why are you angry?”

“Who says I am?”

“Your tone. You dared me to do that, so you don’t have a right to be….” My voice trails off when I realize this argument is all wrong. Whether he dared me or not, he still has no right to be angry with whoever I decide to talk to here at the party.

We didn’t come together.

Hell, I didn't even know he existed until tonight.

He angles his head. “So?”

“So, what?”

“Did you kiss him?”

I nod. “It was your dare, and the alternative was standing on the table and dancing with my clothes off. I chose the best option. You and your friends need to do better.”

He scoffs. “Who told you that? The lanky guy who kissed you?”

“His name is Elliot and he is a really nice person.”

The gray-eyed man shakes his head slowly. “Don’t be naïve. People aren’t nice. They just pretend to be until they get what they want.”

I shake my head. “You are just saying that because you have no bone of niceness in your body.”

“I don’t dispute that.”

Arguing with him is pointless.

“I need to use the bathroom.”

He points to the adjoining door, and I saunter in that direction, making sure to lock the door behind me while I do my business. I stare at my reflection in the mirror, the wide-eyed, flushed-faced girl staring back at me.

My phone beeps in my purse, and I retrieve it. It is Elizabeth. She says she will be gone longer than she expected, but I can hang around the house till morning. The guest, Jaden, doesn't bite.

I haven’t even seen him all night.

Taking a deep breath, I wash my face and dry my hands. I still feel tipsy, but it doesn’t cloud my judgment.

When I return to the room, I meet the gray-eyed man in the far corner, his hands on the spines of books on the shelf. My feet shuffle in his direction, even though I know I should head in the opposite direction.

"Tess of D'Urberville," I whisper. "Is that the first edition?"

He turns around to face me as my fingers graze the spine.

“Yes,” he replies. “Just as every other thing in here is.”

I look up at him, having the feeling that he is no longer talking about his books. His gaze has darkened as he regards me from underneath his lashes. He seems to be waiting for something.

He moves slightly, turning his body so that he is towering over me, and my back is pushed into the shelf. Just like Elliot, he brings a finger underneath my chin and gears my face up to look at him.

But while Elliot feels warm and kind, with this man, it feels like I have been set on fire. Every part of my skin cackles with the heat and ferocity of that single touch, and I find my eyes fluttering close on their own accord.

My body presses into his, and a groan slips from his lips. His other hand touches my neck gingerly, fitting underneath my hair.

“Why have you never had sex?” he whispers, his deep-set baritone travelling through my body in waves. I do not have to answer him, yet I want to.

“I have never found the person worth it,” I reply, my heart thudding so hard against my chest that I am scared he will be able to hear it.

"There's nothing like a person worth it," he drawls, leaning impossibly closer to me. His warm breath caresses my face, and my lips part open. "You just decide whether you want to or not."

“Then, I guess I have never wanted to,” I whisper. “Not until now.”

That last bit seems to break whatever restraint he has, as his lips crash down on mine possessively. I gasp into his mouth, and he uses the opportunity to deepen the kiss. His tongue finds mine, and suddenly, I lose the ability to think.

My toes curl inwards as he cups the back of my neck, and the entirety of my being lets him have his way with me.

Because I want him to.

I bury my fingers in the strands of his thick black hair just as he picks me off the floor and walks with me to the bed. I lie back onto the soft sheets, and he comes in after me, his lips kissing every inch of my body like I am a literature text he is trying to remember every detail of.

Every piece of clothing comes off in a whisper, and I moan and thrash underneath him. And when we both lay naked, he whispers, “This should hurt a little,” before plunging into me.