Maybe, even then, in his heart, I was no longer me. I was Emily.
Emily chose Ryan.
Their cheeks flushed pink, looking every bit the young couple.
I sat in the corner, a clown peeking at someone else’s happiness.
The third round landed on me.
I couldn’t bring myself to spill my truth, so I picked a dare.
“Choose a guy here and share a cookie stick!”
I glanced nervously at Ryan.
He avoided my eyes, head lowered, fingers busy typing a message.
“Don’t pick me. Emily’s watching.”
Seeing those words on his lock screen, I suddenly felt ridiculous.
The guy beside me nudged me with his elbow.
“You can pick me.”
It was the same boy who had been talking to Ryan earlier—Jason Reed.
I drew a deep breath and pointed at him.
“I’ll pick him.”
Ryan had thought I’d choose to drink instead. He froze, stunned.
As Jason and I leaned closer, Ryan’s bottle slipped from his hand, beer spilling.
He stormed out of the Karaoke Room, and right then, my phone buzzed with his message.
“Come out.”
The moment I stepped outside, Ryan dragged me into a corner.
“Claire Miller, when did you become so shallow? Playing games that far?”
I almost laughed. Now he cared about what I did?