“All right.” I’m just hoping that me plus alcohol plus Reid Alexander in the same room won’t equal potential humiliating candor.
“Ready?” At my nod, Graham knocks, thunk-thunk, just as he did a few nights ago. Tadd opens the door, and Graham stands back, smiling down at me. “Ladies first.”
Chapter 12
REID
I got to Brooke’s room first. When she opened the door, it was déjà vu for about two seconds. And then not. Four years ago we would have been all over each other before I got five feet inside her room. Tonight, she just glared and backed up enough for me to enter. “Reid,” she said.
“Brooke.” I set several small bottles down on a table, keeping a couple and opening one, which I downed immediately. Tossing the bottle into her trash, I opened the second. “So how long has it been?” I said, knowing this was a reckless path to navigate.
Her jaw tightened and she plopped onto the loveseat, trying to look indifferent and fearless at the same time, raising her chin and looking me in the eye. “I have no idea.”
A knock sounded then and I turned, relieved, to admit MiShaun, Quinton and Jenna. A moment later, Tadd arrived.
Brooke holds court from the loveseat while MiShaun flips through the most recent Cosmo from the only chair. The rest of us lounge across the floor, chatting, while I wonder how disturbed I should be that Emma and Graham are the only two who haven’t shown yet. Five minutes pass before they show up, together.
“The prima donnas arrive,” MiShaun teases.
“Seriously, what took you guys so long?” Brooke’s eyes dart back and forth between the two of them.
Emma picks up on her territorial vibe and bristles visibly, her shoulders stiffening. “I had a phone call to make.” She holds out the bottle in her hand. “Um, where—?”
“Put it with the other stuff.” Brooke indicates a side table boasting a dozen miniature bottles. Emma hands the tequila to Quinton while Tadd lines up gift shop shot glasses with college emblems stamped on the sides. Smiling up at Graham, Brooke pats the cushion next to her, while Emma sits on the floor in the space between Jenna and me, exactly where I want her.
“What’s first, children?” Brooke asks.
Tadd stands, places one hand over his heart and enunciates as though delivering a line from Hamlet. “I require a dose of liquid courage for the challenge before me.”
“I second that.” Quinton pries the wrapper from the neck of the bottle Emma brought, which I suspect came via Graham, twists off the lid and begins pouring tequila shots.
Grabbing a bottle of rum from the stash and pouring it directly into her Diet Coke bottle, Brooke suggests we toast the success of the film, “before we’re all too hammered to remember what we’re doing.” Everyone obediently clinks glasses and bottles, murmuring to the film.
“Where’s Meredith?” Jenna asks.
“The boyfriend was waiting for her in the lobby when we got back from dinner.” Brooke shrugs. “Looks like splitsville to me.”
“Okay, wait.” Tadd is incredulous. “The guy showed up on set to break up with her? What a douche.”
“I don’t know who’s breaking up with who, just that it looked imminent. So, Mr. Wyler, what are you performing for our listening pleasure?” she asks as Graham hands him the guitar.
“Either Stairway to Heaven or some John Mayer,” Tadd proposes, standing and picking out a few chords, testing the instrument.
“If that’s all you’ve got, then definitely John Mayer. What are we, fifty?” Brooke says.
“Zeppelin is classic!” he insists, which earns him a steady boo from the girls.
“The queen has spoken,” I say, handing him a second shot of tequila, catching Brooke’s eye and grinning as she seethes. She’s determined to be pissed at anything I say or do; might as well enjoy it.
Tadd downs the shot, plunks the glass on a table and starts strumming, singing lines of Your Body is a Wonderland to each of the girls, strolling around the room and ending the performance perched on MiShaun’s lap. As everyone applauds, he bows and passes the guitar to Graham.
“Graham, no Zeppelin, as I believe we’ve already established,” Brooke says.
“I thought I’d do something I’ve been working on.”
“Something you wrote yourself?”
“Still a work in progress, but, yeah.”
“Cool.” She touches his arm lightly, and I bump Emma lightly and raise both eyebrows in the universal gesture of do you see that?
Graham slides to the edge of the loveseat and starts playing, the chords complicated, his fingers moving over the neck of the guitar like he’s caressing it. The vocals are definitely good. Unlike Tadd, he doesn’t look at anyone while performing, except once, towards the end of the last chorus, when his eyes meet Emma’s for a split second. I move from guarded dislike to I hate this guy.
When he finishes, everyone erupts into applause. He and Tadd trade sets while the rest of us sip whatever poison we’ve decided to utilize, and Quinton suggests a drinking game.
Brooke explains the rules to Jenna, who’s never played. “This game has two objects: we learn stupid stuff about each other, and everyone gets wasted.” She scoots off the loveseat, taking Graham’s hand and pulling him down. “Tadd will start by saying, ‘Never have I ever,’ followed by something he’s never done. Anyone who has done whatever it is has to take a drink. Girls, we can handicap ourselves by taking half-shots.”
The first Never Have I Ever that pops into my head involves Emma, and isn’t one I can say aloud. Besides, I intend for it to be invalid by the end of the week, if not the end of the night.
Emma
Quinton pours out shots as Tadd supplies the first never-done thing. “Never have I ever… been an only child.”
Reid and I each down our glasses, and as the tequila blazes a path down my throat, I gasp. I’ve never been much of a drinker. During the parties I attended with Emily, we pretended to drink more than we actually drank.
“This isn’t a good start for us.” He grins as my eyes tear. “That, or it’s an awesome start.” He leans the length of his arm against mine for a moment, his skin a couple of shades darker, his forearm chiseled, the fine blond hairs raising goosebumps where we touch. “Are you cold?” He runs a finger along my arm, multiplying them.
“I guess so.” I don’t want to admit that I have goosebumps all over my body, that my stomach has just gone end-over-end due to his proximity and attention. He moves closer until our sides are pressing together. Oh yeah. That’s gonna help.
“Never have I ever bungee-jumped,” Jenna says.
“Well, crap.” MiShaun throws back her half-shot, along with Tadd.
“Far be it from me to suggest you wear more to warm up.” Reid’s warm breath stirs the baby hairs behind my ear, his smile hungry after a glance towards the just-low-enough neckline of my tank. Thank you, Emily.
My turn. “Never have I ever sung on stage.” I know I’ll be in the minority in this room full of film and theatre types.
“Diabolical,” Reid says, his voice a low hum, admiration in the smirk he gives me before he joins everyone else in another shot. The beginnings of a buzz make my head swim, and I fight not to sway towards him like a magnet towards a steel bar.
Reid turns to the room, aware that it’s his turn even if I’m aware of little beyond him. “Never have I ever… kissed a guy.” All four girls roll our eyes and down our half-shots, and I realize I’m on my way to a colossal hangover. Good thing there’s no filming tomorrow.
“Way to out me right away, dude.” Tadd throws back his shot, smiling wickedly. “And let me know if you want me to fix that for you.”
Graham downs his shot as well. “Damned independent films,” he growls good-naturedly as Quinton hoots with laughter.
“Never have I ever eaten lobster.” Quinton says, and everyone in the room grabs their shot glasses.
Tadd makes a “T” with his hands. “Time out, time out, that can’t be true, I call bullshit.”
“Wrong game, baby. Chill.” MiShaun tousles his pale, poker-straight hair.
Brooke waits until Tadd curses once and drinks. “Never have I ever been in love,” she says, staring at Reid. He stares back, neither moving. Graham takes a drink, watching me. I’m not sure what being in love feels like, but I sense that what I felt for Justin from Newark, or certainly anyone else since him, wasn’t it. I don’t drink.
“Never have I ever been to Hawaii,” Graham says. I’m the only person who doesn’t drink, and he smiles at me from the opposite side of the circle. Hawaii is where my father and Chloe honeymooned.
“Never have I ever—” MiShaun pauses for effect, “played this stupid game before.” She clinks glasses with Jenna while everyone else takes a drink.
Tadd admits that never has he ever learned to ride a bicycle, and everyone else groans and downs a shot before Jenna admits that she’s never learned to swim.
“What?” Brooke downs her half-shot. “We need to get you out to the pool. What if you land a part in a film where you have to dive into a lake, and come up wet and sexy?”
“Thass a good point.” Jenna chews her lip.
“Wet and sexy? Really?” Quinton fans himself with the discarded Cosmo. “Does everybody need to be able to pop outta the water looking like your Life’s a Beach poster?”
“Yes, and I’m well-qualified to teach that sk-skill.” Brooke’s poster was issued the month she turned eighteen. She stands in calf-deep surf, holding a surf board and clad in a wetsuit, unzipped to mid-chest, with her finger through the zipper pull as though she’s still unzipping. Emily’s brother has it prominently displayed in his bedroom.
“I’d be willing to assist with that worthy cause,” Quinton says, lying back on the carpet. “Be sure to let me know when lessons commence.”
“We’ll send you a memo,” Brooke says.
By the time we get back around to Tadd, we’re stumbling over each other’s names and any words containing more than one syllable, the slip-ups seeming beyond hilarious. Graham is more subdued than the other guys, his smile easy and genuine at the silliness around him. I catch his dark eyes on me a couple of times, but he watches Brooke, too.
“Let’s make this more interesting,” Tadd says, leaning back on his elbows. He waits until everyone is quiet. “Never have I ever… hooked up with a costar.”
“Hold up. Are we talking hooked up or hooked up,” Quinton asks. “’Cause I do not believe for a second that your horn dog self hasn’t found a twin on a set.”
“Either. Let’s say the make-out hook-up.”
“What? You are ly-ing,” Quinton says.
“Nope.” Tadd crosses his heart. “I’m pure as the driven whatever, on location. But don’t worry—one of the extras is on my list of things to do.”