Page 16 of Heart So Hollow

I smile to myself, recalling the memories, “It was great, the whole month was like one big party—pumpkins, apple-picking, Trick-or-Treating, Halloween parties, a birthday party…”

“So, if you like parties, you like games, right?” Bowen asks.

I hesitate.

Do you like games, Brett?

A distant memory, a mere sound-bite, creeps up through the recesses of my brain and sends a shiver up my spine. I shake it off before the goosebumps can reach past my elbows. How is this happening? What are the odds?

I swallow, my throat suddenly parched, “Sure.”

Bowen tips his head onto the back of his chair, “Truth or dare?”

I gaze into the fire, unable to remember the last time I played Truth or Dare. It was probably in middle school when CeCe Duckworth dared me to shotgun a beer just to see what would happen. Spoiler alert—I ended up spraying the entire beer all over myself and choking on the foam.

I’m always wary of what people will pick for a dare, so I pick truth.

Bowen rests his chin in his palm and peers at my profile, “Worst breakup.”

I lift my beer to my lips and avert my eyes. I empty the can and hold the liquid in my cheeks for a minute before finally swallowing. Then I mull over my response for another minute.

Bowen waggles his eyebrows, “I know that look.”

Finally, I shake my head, “You don’t want to hear about it.”

“If you’re a good storyteller, I do.”

I could’ve lied. I could’ve made up some embarrassing or dramatic story he would’ve easily believed and then forgotten in a day or two, something mildly uncomfortable, but without real consequence. Because real discomfort and real drama have consequences; they can show up, uninvited, years after you think you’ve forgotten them, or at least tried to forget.

But, then again, what would happen if I told him?

Often, it’s much easier to divulge the truth to a stranger than someone close to you. There’s less baggage, fewer preconceived notions, and fewer expectations. You can’t surprise me, and I can’t surprise you, because we don’t know each other beyond this moment.

Yes, I’m curious what Bowen will think or say, but what’ll happen to me if I say it out loud? There’s a chance it could change me, but there’s no guarantee how. Maybe it’ll mute the memories and dull the involuntary responses that hijack my body when I’m least expecting it. Maybe this is an opportunity born of serendipity.

Shadows dance over the softened features of Bowen’s face as the flames flicker over the embers. He waits for me to speak, his chin still resting in his palm. I stop trying to find the right words because it’s going to come out the same way regardless.

Fuck it.

“Would you settle for the worst end to a first date?”

Bowen glances to the side in thought and then shrugs, “I’ll allow it.”

I hesitate for a moment before committing, “It ended with him dragging me out of bed and holding a gun to my head.”

I feel the chill hit me like a bucket of cold water and begin shivering. I tilt my head back, looking up into the black sky through the birch branches. I take a deep breath, let it out slowly, and finally, the trembling begins to subside.

Bowen lets his arm fall onto the armrest of his camp chair, “Seriously?”

CHAPTER SIX

Brett

College

Every time I look at him out of the corner of my eye, Colson Lutz always looks the same; leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, legs crossed at the ankles, and his head cocked to the side.

Unbothered.

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