Page 12 of My Accidental Valentine

We all watch as he gets up, heads to the kitchen, and returns a few minutes later with the drink. He hands it to Millie, plants a quick kiss on her cheek, and sits back down, looking like he just dodged a bullet.

Then it’s Peter’s turn, and to my surprise, he chooses me.

“Truth or dare, Sammy,” he says, his tone light but unmistakably mischievous.

“Truth,” I reply, partly because I’m too lazy to get up and do anything, but mostly because I’m curious what Peter has in mind.

“Fuck, marry, kill,” he says, his smirk widening into something almost diabolical. “Me, Adam, and Millie.”

Tina and Chara gasp in unison, while Emilia’s eyebrows shoot up before she gives Peter a look of amused approval. “Bold move,” she says, sounding both impressed and curious.

I freeze, heat flooding my cheeks. I notice Adam shifting in his seat—and I can’t tell if he’s curious about my answer or just uncomfortable.

It’s such a loaded question that, for a moment, my mind blanks completely. I scramble for the safest answer, but no matter where I put Adam—fuck, marry, or kill—it feels like stepping on a landmine.

“Well,” I begin, boldness rising despite the nerves knotting in my stomach. “If I have to pick…” I pause, letting my gaze drift over the three of them for dramatic effect. “I’d kill you, Peter, for asking dumb questions.”

The room bursts into laughter, Peter included.

Once the noise dies down, I continue, “I’d marry Millie—obviously, she’s the love of my life.” The laughter picks up again, and I wait for it to settle before casually glancing at Adam. “And I’d fuck Payne. Sorry, Adam.”

Our eyes meet, and I catch a flash of surprise on his face—but no offense. Instead, he blinks at me, as if acknowledging my answer, the corners of his lips twitching as he says, “Score.”

The room erupts with laughter and cheers, but Adam’s still watching me, a hint of amusement on his face. It sends a thrill through me—intoxicating, almost like a high.

God, what am I doing? He’s straight—I’m almost sure of that. So am I imagining this tension between us? Or is he just being polite, letting the gay guy flirt because he’s a nice person? Shit. I swore I wouldn’t let myself go down this road again, but here I am. I know it’s only going to end in heartbreak, but maybe I can give myself this weekend. Just this once. To imagine that he’s flirting with me. That he likes me. That whatever happened during that blackout four years ago was just a misunderstanding—a stupid, unfortunate mistake that means nothing now. That maybe he’s bi-curious…

Letting the fantasy play out doesn’t seem like such a terrible idea. What’s the harm, really? Besides, A: I’m sober, so there’s zero chance of blacking out or humiliating myself again, and B: I probably won’t see him again for at least another year. Maybe this one weekend, I can pretend. Just for fun. Just to feel something other than the anxiety knotting my stomach.

Tina’s voice snaps me out of my spiral.

“Truth or dare, Sammy?” she asks, a playful gleam in her eyes.

Judging by her expression, she’s come up with something twisted. Normally, I’d be cautious, but after that moment with Adam—our cute little eye contact that I’m convinced lasted longer than it should between acquaintances or friends—I feel weirdly bold. Like his attention is still on me, like he’s watching, waiting. And maybe that’s just my delusional mind, but tonight, I really don’t care.

“Truth,” I say, lifting my cup as if to toast my own bravery.

Tina’s grin widens. “Why did you break up with Tim?”

Three gasps—Chara’s, Peter’s, and Amira’s—follow in perfect sync, while Millie lets out a surprised snort. I blink, momentarily taken aback. Of all the questions Tina could’ve asked, she chose to ask about Tim?

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Adam leaning forward in his armchair, waiting for my answer. Or maybe I’m imagining it—I honestly don’t know anymore.

I clear my throat. “He didn’t fully commit to me,” I say simply. It’s the polite version—the one that skips over the details of Tim’s “boys’ nights out” at the club, me pacing at home, worried sick, only to find out later that he was busy making out with strangers.

“Shit. Sorry,” Tina says, the playfulness gone from her voice, like she didn’t expect my answer to be that serious.

The room feels heavier, a brief silence settling over us. I don’t want to let the mention of Tim drag things down—especially since I’ve been over him for a while—so I snort and wave them off. “Cheer up, guys. I’ve been happily single for eight months now.”

“Alright,” Tina says, still watching me carefully. “Sorry if it’s a sensitive topic.”

“It’s not,” I reply, smirking at her. “Is it my turn now?”

Everyone nods, and the tension in the room eases.

“Alright,” I say with an exaggerated sigh, trying to sound upbeat. “So…who’s going to be my victim?” I glance around ateveryone before letting my gaze land on Adam. “Truth or dare, Adam?” My pulse thrums somewhere in my throat at my own audacity. I’m not drunk, but I feel drunk—drunk on boldness, like I can do whatever I want.

“Dare,” Adam says without hesitation.

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