Page 103 of Truth Or Dare
“Never,” I tell him with a shrug. “The closest I came to a real date in high school was prom night. With you.” He smiles warmly at the memory. “I didn’t really go on dates with anyone else, I just—”
“I know,” he finishes with a sad smile.
“I just wanted to feel good, have some company, and...It wasn’t like it is with you,” I admit, shaking my head. “It’s not even close.”
Chris smiles, his lips curving at the side as he leans closer, brushing our lips together. “I know I don’t have the same experiences,” he murmurs, pulling back slightly to meet my eyes. “But the kiss I shared with that girl doesn’t compare to you either,” he says. “Not even close.”
My breath hitches, and I narrow my eyes at him. “Don’t talk about her.”
Chris chuckles, his hands resting at my waist. “Jealous, pretty girl?” he teases. “I’ve got to say, I really like seeing you like this.” He leans in, placing a soft kiss on my jaw.
My hands instinctively clutch his hair. “You’re mine,” I murmur as he continues kissing down my neck.
“I’m yours,” he confirms with a subtle nod. “I always have been.” He pulls back with a smirk, running his thumb over my bottom lip. “You know, I guess I have one of your firsts now,” he says playfully. “Your first date.”
I breathe out a laugh, running my hand over his soft hair. “You can have all of them,” I tell him. “I never want to do this with anyone else.”
His smile sends a flutter through my heart as he lowers me to the ground, intertwining his fingers with mine as we make our way toward the Ferris wheel.
“Are you up for it?” Chris asks.
I nod, looking up at him with a smile. “I’m not drunk this time.”
He chuckles warmly, and we step inside the pod, closing the door behind us.
“I’m actually glad you’re not drunk,” he admits as the Ferris wheel starts to move.
“Yeah? Why?”
The corner of his lips lift in a smile. “Because,” he murmurs, leaning closer until his hand grazes my jaw, cupping my face. “I can do this, and you’ll remember it this time.” He leans in, brushing his lips against mine. Slow. Soft. Patient.
When we pull away, he wears the prettiest smile on his face, and it makes me want to kiss him again.
“I still think about the last time we were here,” I tell him.
“I’m surprised,” Chris replies with a chuckle. “You were so drunk, you couldn’t even walk.”
I playfully push at his shoulders, but my laughter fades into a sigh. “I wish I remembered earlier,” I admit. He turns to me with a frown. “I wish I hadn’t forgotten,” I continue. Our eyes lock, and Chris lets out a sigh.
“Honestly, me too,” he says. “So much happened that night, and a part of me thought you’d wake up and regret it, or tell me it meant nothing,” he says, swallowing hard. “And after I left, I almost didn’t want to reach out to you.” A crease forms between his brows. “I didn’t want to hear you say those words,” he adds with a sigh. “When I called you that day...” He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “I was waiting. Waiting for you to bring it up. Waiting for you to say it was a mistake, but...”
“I didn’t remember,” I finish for him, guilt settling in my stomach as he nods.
When Chris called a week later, I was so stunned by hearing his voice for the first time that I didn’t even have a chance to remember what happened that night. I just wanted to know he was okay. I was confused as hell, and sad that he had left me without so much as a word, but I was also just glad to know he was safe.
I held onto hope that he would come back. I imagined us going to college together. But as weeks turned into months and Chris told me about his visa and plans to study abroad, I lost all hope.
“You never brought it up. And I was so damn confused as to why, until it clicked,” Chris says, his voice soft. He swallows, brushing his fingers against mine. “Part of me wanted to tell you,” he admits. “I wanted you to know it had happened. It killed me to keep this all to myself every time we texted or talked. But I figured telling you would only mess things up further, and I had already screwed up by leaving. I didn’t want to make it worse.”
I wonder what would have happened if he did tell me. How would I have reacted? What would I have said?
“Is that why you never visited?” I ask him tentatively. “You were worried you wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret?”
He shrugs, pressing his lips together. “Part of it, I guess. I was scared our friendship would change. I was out of my mind in love with you for years, and I didn’t know how to handle it,” he admits with a sigh. “But it wasn’t just that keeping me away.”
My brows furrow with concern. “Then what?” The Ferris wheel resumes its slow rotation, but I keep my gaze fixed on him.
“My dad,” he says, his jaw tightening. “The longer I was away, the more I hoped he wouldn’t have control over me anymore,” he explains. “I was so scared of having to face him again that...” He shakes his head. “I hate that he still affects me,” he admits bitterly. “He’s in prison, and he still has a grip on me.”
