Page 26 of Falling for Grace

“Okay, fine. I won’t forget this, and I will get it out of you, even if I have to hypnotise you with my special wizarding power. Now, new game,” she says with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Truth or Shot. Ben, you can go first.”

“Okay, Grace. Truth or shot?”

“Shot,” I say confidently. “If I choose truth, you’re just going to ask me who, and that defeats the purpose of my being ‘mysterious.’” He smiles at me, that little dimple showing in all its glory, and he spins the tray on the table, making the shots spill. I pick one and knock it back without trying to think about what the poison could be.

I blanch and gag as the bitter taste hits my taste buds.

“Tequilla,” I say, my face contorted. “Even worse without the salt and lemon.”

Everyone laughs at me and Ben taps my back as I cough.

Time passes, the bar filling up around us. The space between bodies becomes smaller and smaller. But we are tucked up in our booth, in our own little bubble of alcohol. The shots continue to flow, and my ‘I have never’ admission is wholly forgotten, thankfully.

We are all reasonably drunk. Each of us has started choosing truth, likely down to the fact that if we drink any more shots we will be hugging the toilet for the rest of the night. During the time in the booth I have learned that Ben is a personal trainer who is trying to set up his own martial arts school, and Rob is a school teacher for children with learning difficulties. When he told us that I genuinely think I heard Theresa’s heart swoon, along with her ovaries.

Ben and Rob are fun, in a just want to have a good time kind of way. There is no fakeness with them and conversation flows while we continue playing the game.

It’s my turn and Theresa is asking the questions. Her usual clear eyes look red and dilated, the alcohol taking its toll.

“Truth or shot?” she asks, smiling lazily. I’m fairly sure when she just blinked one eye closed before the other.

“Truth.” I look down at the two remaining shots knowing that if I do anymore I’ll likely pass out on the table, or vomit.

Or both.

“Who was your famous kisssss?” She leans back and places her hands on the table, a smug look on her face. “You thought I’d forgottenend.” Her slurred voice barely made it sound like a word. “I may be drunk, but I’m not that drunk. And before you try and back out, if you don’t answer it, you have to do a dirty pint. That,” she says, pointing her finger at Ben and Rob, “these two will make now.”

I watch as they grab an empty glass and take great joy in making a dirty pint. I’m twenty-seven. I haven’t done a dirty pint in over six years, after a really unfortunate evening with Danny.

Danny. It takes every last ounce of willpower not to look at my phone to see if he has replied.

I pull up in disgust as I watch them empty salt and pepper into it, and I’m even more revolted when Rob picks his nose and dips it in the drink. I always find it amazing how men turn into overgrown children in a heartbeat.

“You are in charge of the future generation…we’re fucked,” Theresa says, knocking his arm with hers.

“Just a name,” I ask, hesitating. The dirty pint looks gross and I don’t want to have to drink it, but I also really don’t want to explain anything. “I don’t have to tell you the back story or anything?”

Theresa shakes her head. “Just a name, that’s all.”

“Okay, but on one condition. You have to tell me yours first.”

She nods and puts out her little hand. “Shake on it.”

I reach across the table and place my hand in hers, shaking it hard over the two remaining shots on the tray.

“Are you ready?” she says building it up. Ben and Rob start to hit their hands against the table, creating a drum roll, and I laugh as she takes a deep breath in. “Alan Carr,” she blurts out. Ben and Rob start laughing. I’m surprised they have even heard of the British comedian.

“But he’s gay!” I feel cheated. She looks at me and shrugs.

“I know, but I met him once and he kissed me on the cheek.”

“On the cheek!!” I exclaim. “I thought you meant snogged.”

“I said kissed,” Theresa states. “You’re the one whose mind automatically went to snog. Always in the gutter. Your thought process could make any man blush, Grace.”

“I feel cheated,” I say, placing my hand on my chest, but I can’t help but continue to laugh along with the guys. “Okay, fine,” I say, turning serious. “Now mine, as I’ve just announced, was a snog, so I can’t really deny it.” I realise my own words are sounding slightly slurred. “BUT I shall only be providing a name.” I look at them all, pointing at each of them in turn. “And let me tell you all—it’s a good one, but I do not and will not kiss and tell. Am I clear?” I try to put on a solemn voice, but I laugh as both Rob and Ben do a cross-my-heart sign.

“Tell me. Good God, I’m dying to know. Is it a pop star? A TV personality?” Theresa is asking.

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