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FOWL PLAY

FULTON

F uck, fuck, fuck. I’m so fucked .

Why did I just let Shiloh do that? I mean, we’re not together . She can do whatever she wants. But that—I—shit. This game was a terrible idea. I can barely control myself around her as is, but to watch her kiss my friend? I’m the biggest idiot on the planet. I think I’d be better off getting run over by a car, backed over, then run over again . Maybe dragged against the asphalt for a mile.

I think someone’s talking judging by the distorted warbling in my ears, but I’m still trapped in whatever trance Shiloh cast on me. God, she looks so beautiful right now. Buttery light blitzes through the dark, sleek strands of her hair, framing her in an ethereal glow. Those wide eyes are staring expectantly at me, and I’m so out of it that I don’t really catch on to the message she’s trying to give me.

A watery half-smile flits across her now-glossed lips— thank you, Aeris —and she cocks her head at me. “Fulton?”

“Yeah?” I mutter dazedly, love hearts probably popping out of my eyes.

“Are you going to drink or do the dare? ”

Am I going to… what ?

Then that warm, fluttery feeling in the bottom of my belly metamorphosizes into a yawning pit of darkness and disquietude that can’t be remedied with a drink of piss-flavored beer. A swallow chafes my dry throat, and it feels like my muscles have been bound together with goddamn barbed wire. Given my buffeting pulse, I don’t know if Shiloh’s going to serve as a very effective anti-anxiety ward this time around.

When did I spin? And when did it just so happen to land on Foul Play?

Judging by the devilish grin on Gage’s face, this might be the dare to land us in the slammer for the night. This is a quantum leap out of my comfort zone. Not just that, but a tear-a-hole-through-the-space-time-continuum kind of leap.

Maybe I’m overthinking this. Plus, my friends are used to me chickening out of most dares.

You’re so boring, Fulton. Your teammates are probably going to stop inviting you places. You’re the wet blanket of the group, the buzzkill. Why is it so hard for you to do what everyone else is doing? Why can’t you just fit in ?

This is all too much pressure. And I’m sitting here like an idiot thinking to myself while my friends all wait for me to finally come to a decision.

Shiloh suddenly grabs my hand, pulls me out of my depressing trip down inferiority complex lane, and clasps our fingers together despite the profuse sweat on my skin. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” she reminds me. “It’s okay if you pass. Nobody’s going to?—”

“I want to do it,” I interrupt, breathing out the purposeless worry and breathing in what I’m hoping is a metric ton of confidence.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I am. You make me want to venture outside of my comfort zone. Just knowing that you’re here, by my side, gives me all the safety I need to start doing that.”

Honestly, if Shiloh hadn’t kissed Aeris, then my answer would’ve been different. But seeing her so unburdened by self-doubt was a side of her that I want to see more of. She didn’t know any of this would happen tonight, yet she’s not trying to shoehorn her way into the pilot’s seat.

“Lay it on me, Gage. What do I have to do?” I ask.

“You sure about this, buddy?”

A pitchy croak loosens from my chest, and my throat feels sore, like my immune system’s preparing for the beginning of a nasty cold. “I’m sure.”

“Alright then. Your task is to… steal …something,” Gage tells me, steepling his fingers like an evil villain.

Steal something? Like, from the hotel? Psh, that’s easy. I’ll just nab some of the soap bars and call it a day. No incarceration needed. People steal hotel toiletries all the time and get away with it. It’s not even really considered stealing, seeing as they’re complimentary.

I challenge him with an arrogant look. “Deal. This is gonna be a piece of cake?—”

But of course, it isn’t a Gage-necessitated dare without the catch of the century. And my best friend is infamously known for the worst of humiliation rituals.

“Uh, I’m not finished. You have to steal…a chicken.”

I’m sorry—a what ? As in, a live animal? That has to be illegal, right? Or at the very least, my bloodline will be cursed for meddling with the natural balance of things. Like when someone takes sacred rocks from Hawaii and then suffers life-ending repercussions because of it.

Shiloh’s jaw is ajar, and her eyes practically bulge out of her head. The rest of the group is in a similar state.

Doubt rumbles through my belly like fumes through a car engine. “And how do you expect me to do that? ”

“Leave the distraction to me,” Gage says.

Gage, Shiloh, and I peek around the corner, surveying the flock of chickens waddling around on the outskirts of the open-plan lobby. They peck at the ground, oblivious to the kidnapping that’s about to take place in the next few minutes.

“Target acquired,” Gage whispers, pointing to a larger rooster closest to us who seems to be lacking in both brain cells and self-preservation instincts.

He doesn’t look bigger than a household lamp, so technically, I should be able to wrangle him with little effort.

“Okay, genius. Now that we’re here, what’s your grand plan?” I inquire.

“I’m going to distract the receptionist with my boyish charm, and you’re gonna snag the walking drumstick.”

Shiloh freaks out. “And do what with it?!”

Gage’s eyes narrow into slits, and his shit-eating smirk darkens, as if her question is completely asinine. “Smuggle it in your jacket or something.”

“This is a terrible idea, even for you,” I hiss under my breath, assessing the factors that could influence the success rate of our mission.

Factor one: the other chickens notice that we’re abducting their leader, and they storm us like an angry winged brigade.

Factor two: the hotel employees catch us in the act and ask us to vacate the premises immediately.

The first one is objectively worse, and the second one might render us homeless for the rest of the trip, but there’s something mortifying about forfeiting a dare as stupid as this.

“We’re gonna put it back. Relax. I’ve been training my entire life for this moment.” Gage licks his palm, smooths the front of his hair back, then does a roll onto the ground as if he’s an international spy on his way to infiltrate the White House.

I—I don’t even want to know.

He somehow manages to duck out of the receptionist’s line of view, completing his over-the-top theatrics by hiding behind a large, neatly trimmed hedge. Shiloh and I—the only ones with sensibility in this ménage à trois—opt to sprint for the bushes instead.

Gage carves a little peephole through the condensed leaves. “All you have to do is get it up to the hotel room, and then we’ll return the little guy like nothing happened in the first place. The team needs to witness your bravery, and they need to witness my greatness for believing in you.”

Jesus. I can’t believe I agreed to something like this.

“If I get my eye pecked out, I’ll never forgive you.”

“Oh, dude. An eye patch would look so fucking cool on you.”

Before I can argue why that would not look cool and that I do in fact need depth perception to keep my job, Gage saunters over to the receptionist’s desk like he’s had one too many drinks—which he has. Meanwhile, Shiloh and I remain hidden, pinning our gazes on the colorful poultry that’s currently trying to fit its entire beak around a rock. Chickens aren’t that smart, right?

Gage is too far away for us to eavesdrop, but judging by the starstruck expression on the receptionist’s face, his charisma might just be strong enough to let us get away with this crime. I don’t know how long we have until our facade falls, so I need to act now before I lose my gall.

“Cover me. I’m going in,” I announce, making a mental note of the distance I have to cover to get the chicken into the elevator without the staff noticing. It’s far, but Gage’s ability to talk a person’s ear off is unparalleled—especially if alcohol is involved .

Shiloh’s neck practically sustains whiplash with the way she looks at me, then the rooster, then me again. “Wait, what? What if it squawks? What if you draw attention?”

“It’s too late now! I already committed to it!” I whisper-screech over my shoulder, tiptoeing toward the unsuspecting victim like the fucking Pink Panther, all while a cocktail of adrenaline and nausea funnels through my body.

The rooster is in my sight. Gangly neck, weird red flappy thing hanging from his beak, eyes like two bubbles on the side of its head. Little dude isn’t going to know what hit him.

Oh my God. Do I hear myself? I’m going crazy. I’m kidnapping this feathered monstrosity in the middle of the night! Who have I become ?

With Shiloh offering me a supportive thumbs-up from the bushes—and Gage’s obnoxiously loud voice filling the hotel lobby—I dive for the long-neck dinosaur, squeezing it in my arms as my elbows scrape against the polished floor. There’s a subsequent cluck of fear that shoots out of its tiny body, and it begins to flap its wings in a frenzy, an explosion of feathers hampering my vision.

A few of the loitering guests in the vicinity give me a strange look, but they don’t bother to alert security. Before I know it, I’m wrestling on the ground with a demonic rooster a quarter of my size, getting a wing to the cheek and a foot to the chest. It’s surprisingly strong for something so small in stature.

This was a terrible idea. Why did I let Gage talk me into this?!

Shiloh appears by my side in a flash, trying to pry its talons off my body, and we beetle toward the elevator, followed by a continuous squawking cacophony that somehow doesn’t manage to attract the attention of any of the employees. I have no idea what Gage is doing, but whatever it is, it’s working.

“Hold it still!” she screams quietly, struggling to get a good grip on it while its neck does a freaky gyroscopic motion thing and its head stays disturbingly still. It’s like every time she swipes at it, its body contorts in an unnatural shape to evade her attack. Not to mention that its soulless stare is really starting to creep me out.

Embarrassingly out of breath, I wheeze, “I’m trying!”

With undeniable urgency, Shiloh slams the elevator buttons while Rooster Cena uses my mortal flesh as a goddamn scratch off. If the receptionist were to turn her head ninety degrees, she’d witness the crime currently taking place. This elevator needs to open now. My grip is loosening. I’m not going to be able to hold this thing for much longer.

Finally, after a couple of strenuous seconds, the elevator doors ping open, and I throw myself inside the metal prison just as Shiloh presses the close button. Since we’re in an enclosed space now, I cautiously let go of the chicken, watching as it runs around in circles aimlessly.

“Oh my God. You did it,” she pants, looking sexy as hell with her hair disheveled and sweat dripping down her temples.

The rooster, thankfully, has become too enraptured by its reflection to continue its onslaught. It puffs its feathers up in the stainless-steel mirror, trying to find an opening so it can rough up its apparent competition.

I press my back up against the wall. “ We did it.”

“I mean, of course I believed in you this entire time, but wow…”

I nod. “I think that’s one of the riskiest things I’ve ever done, and it wouldn’t have been possible if it wasn’t for you. You don’t only make me want to be a better person, but you make me want to live my life to the fullest, Sunshine.”

The most adorable blush slopes over Shiloh’s cheekbones. “Here’s to new beginnings.”

When the elevator spits us out on the sixth floor, I have a more secure grip on my fowl friend, this time creating a little nook with my arms for its butt.

Opening the door to Hayes and Aeris’ suite, I present the guest of honor with a proud smile, and everyone bursts into rambunctious hoots and hollers. No longer squeaking like a chew toy, the rooster slow blinks at the group, head bobbing around as it takes in its new surroundings, its little chest rising in sync with mine.

Gage comes skidding into the room a moment later, Roadrunner-style, pumping both fists into the air when he notices the prized poultry snuggled safely in my arms. “Atta boy, Ful!”

“Damn, Fulton. I didn’t know you had it in you,” Cali inputs.

I let the little guy loose so it can roam around, and our teammates take turns capturing point-five pictures of its adorably ugly face. Passing on the responsibility of a flawless return to Gage, I feel like I can finally breathe again, and Shiloh and I celebrate our win with a look that does nothing to soft-pedal the hunger in both of our eyes.

I’d be lying if I said my friends’ comments didn’t massively inflate my ego. But I needed some ego inflating, alright? Speaking of inflation, the lower half of me is getting ready to Irish goodbye this bitch in the next five minutes so I can have Shiloh all to myself.

While everyone’s way too focused on our new companion, I pull Shiloh close to me, my nose dovetailed in her neck as I greedily inhale the scent of her—a whirlwind of vanilla, cinnamon, and a tinge of vodka from her drink. She squeaks in surprise, and I’m a sick fuck for loving the sound of it—sicker even for wanting to hear it when she’s writhing underneath me.

“Wanna get out of here?” I whisper, parting my lips and dragging them over the steep incline of her throat.

After we wash our hands, of course.

“Hell yeah.”