Page 145 of A Little Complicated

Once everyone finishes, Dylan goes next. “Never have I ever…gotten an F.”

With the exception of Finley, Dylan, and Archer, everyone lifts their cups.

Now, it’s my turn. My hands still tremble as I throttle my nearly empty cup. I don’t want to play this game anymore. I want to talk to Archer. I want him to listen to me. I want us to have an actual conversation instead of being the recipient of his glare from across the yard. But I also don’t want to simply walk away. So, where does it leave me?

“Your turn,” Dylan murmurs, snapping me out of my staring contest with the pissed-off Buchanan brother on the opposite side of the circle.

My turn.

Right.

“Never have I ever…broken a girl’s heart,” I offer in an attempt to pick something relatively safe.

Archer’s sharp voice cuts through the circle. “Broken plenty of guys’, though. Right, Lia?”

My gaze snaps to him again. He doesn’t take a drink from the glass bottle dangling from his fingers between his thighs.

Ass.

However, all the other guys chuckle lightly into their cups, each confirming their player status. From the corner of my eye, I catch Maverick lifting his drink to his mouth. He brushes the back of his hand against my knee. It’s subtle. Practically innocent. But laced with an apology I didn’t know I needed until now. At least someone cares about this messed-up situation. I close my eyes for a brief second, savoring the feel of his warm skin on mine until it disappears. He leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs.

Confirming he has everyone’s attention, Maverick announces, “Never have I ever embarrassed a girl on purpose or made her feel guilty for something she has no reason to feel guilty about.”

Shit.

I glance at Maverick again, but he isn’t looking at me. He’s glaring at Archer across the circle.

“Mav,” I whisper.

The tension radiates off him and seeps into my skin, triggering my fingers into motion. I reach for him to sit back in his chair. To relax. Tonotmake a scene.

Archer’s gaze darkens as it falls on my hand resting on Maverick’s stiff shoulder, and he says, “I wanna go again.”

“It’s not your turn,” Maverick grits out.

“And I don’t give a shit,Mystery Man.”

A gasp slips past my parted lips as his words wash over me.

Mystery Man.

He knows.

I don’t know how he knows, but he does.

Shit.

This is why he’s so pissed. Why he’s acting the way he is.

Archer shoves to his feet, not even bothering to hide his irritation anymore. His chair topples over onto the grass, and his chest heaves. I’ve never seen him like this. So angry. So unhinged. So volatile.

“Archer,” I call out, desperate for privacy. For a chance to explain myself. But he raises his hand, silencing me.

With his tortured focus glued to his twin, Archer spits, “Never have I ever kissed my brother’s girlfriend.”

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit, shit.

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