Page 119 of Collision
“Truth or dare?” asks Tiffany.
“Dare,” he answers immediately. As if he’s been waiting for exactly this question from her. Instinctively, I lift my eyes to him and see a wicked expression light up his face.
“Good, good,” Tiffany exclaims victoriously. Too victoriously. I look at her and frown. I know all too well that rush of megalomania she gets when she thinks she has total control over a situation. I silently beg her not to include me in the “Dare.” Thomas also looks at her but appears to be wishing for the exact opposite. Tiffany darts her gaze between us. Then she stops on me, smiling. When she murmurs, “You’re gonna thank me,” I wince. Oh my God.
“Thomas, I dare you to spend ten minutes locked in a closet with Nessy,” she orders.
“What?” Alex and I cry out in unison.
“Come on, let’s go,” Thomas demands, standing up.
“I’m not going to lock myself anywhere with you. What are we? Kindergartners?” I reply acidly.
“Rules are rules, Vanessa. And they must be respected,” he replies with a singsong voice and his most punchable face.
“He’s right. So far we have all followed the rules,” Nash interjects, before explaining where the closets are.
Damn Tiffany. She’ll pay for this. Oh, how she’s gonna pay. I breathe deeply and then huff the air out through my nose.
“Let’s go to this damn closet.”
“After you, miss,” a smug-faced Thomas mocks. I pass him with a glare.
I go in first, and he closes the door behind us. For some reason, the light is on. Maybe someone’s already been in here before us. This little room is claustrophobic. I turn my back to him because, even though I am furious at him, having him within a few inches of my face would make me lose my mind and I know it. So I’ll just stay here, staring at the greenish walls around me, for ten minutes. In front of me there’s a dusty set of shelves with some books and a few ceramic dolls on it. Creepy. I notice a cord hanging from the ceiling. I pull it and the dim light goes out. I immediately pull it again. Light. I need light.
“It’s better in the dark, don’t you think?” Even though I have my back to him, I can imagine his lips curving in his usual goading way.
“No. I don’t think so,” I answer sharply.
“Let me guess, you’re pissed.”
What a brilliant deductive mind, Collins. “No.”
“That wasn’t a question, it was an observation.”
You know where you can put your observations? I sigh and turn to face him. “Yes, Thomas. I’m pissed. What’s new, am I right?”
“Yeah, what’s new?” he replies, annoyed, rearranging the disheveled hair on his forehead with his fingers.
“Is it really so hard for you to stop being a jerk for more than five minutes at a time?” I go on the attack, making no effort at all to rein in my anger.
“When did I piss you off?”
Is he making fun of me? Of course he’s making fun of me, because it’s clear as day that he knows exactly why I’m pissed off. But evidently, if he’s not mocking me, he’s not happy.
“I don’t know, maybe when you put that girl on your lap and practically screwed her in front of everyone? I hope it was good for you, at least,” I conclude with a contemptuous grimace, trying to ignore the pang in my heart.
“And what about you? Did you enjoy kissing your little buddy?”
Is he seriously trying to make me believe that performance was all just to get back at me?
“Don’t call him ‘my buddy’ like that. And, just to be clear, it was just a stupid kiss. He didn’t clamp on to my neck like Count Dracula.”
“If yours was just a stupid kiss, mine was just a stupid hickey. I don’t see what the problem is.”
I give up. He just doesn’t get it. “Forget it,” I mumble, turning my back on him again.
“Turn around.”
