Page 13 of The Games We Play (Balance of Power #3)

NAOMI

“ W ho was that guy you were with yesterday, Meems?” Shane asks before taking a big bite off the corner of his pepperoni pizza he has hovering over his mouth.

I didn’t see Seamus all day today. He must have made friends with the guys in his cabin and found something to do. I hope that’s the case, because I couldn't imagine coming here for my first time as a senior in our last year at camp.

“Who, Seamus?” I reply like a guilty person when they think they did something wrong, and I instantly regret my words. Like I’m defending my choice to hang out with him already, solidifying the fact that I like him.

Shane side-eyes me, chewing the doughy pizza and replies with a chuckle, “Yeah, I guess if that’s who you were hanging out with all day.”

“Oh. Yeah. Seamus. I met him at check in, it’s his first year here. I was just trying to help him out,” I say, brushing it off to not make anything too obvious.

Although, Shane and I have been friends since the first year he came to camp, a year after me, so I know he can sense my awkwardness.

Glancing around the room, there are quite a few seniors here tonight—the ones who have come almost every year since we were old enough to.

It’s bittersweet.

Seeing everyone again has been great, but knowing that most of us will probably never talk again after this summer is a bit depressing.

We’ll go through our senior year of high school, graduate, and the only ones who will come back here are the ones who will volunteer to lead the younger camp groups.

I don’t know of any of my friends that are doing that, and since I want to backpack through Europe and take a gap year before settling into college life, I know I won’t be back here to see anyone again. My parents don’t love the idea, but they’re supportive of my decision.

The door opens and I steel my spine, anxious to see if it’s Seamus. Instead, it’s Nathan and Wes, the termites from check-in. I huff out an annoyed breath as I sink back into my chair.

“Ladies and gentleman, the party has arrived!” Wes shouts, holding out his arms like a messiah. Someone tosses a garlic knot at him and others whine or shout profanities. A couple of other guys hoot.

I roll my eyes because, ew.

“Oh hey, Mimi. Where’s your new friend?” Nathan asks as he plops down in the one person chair I’m sitting in, forcing me to shift over so he doesn’t squish me.

He wraps his arm around me, pulling me into his side, and I lean as far away from him as possible.

“You’re annoying, Nathan. Get your own chair.” I push at his shoulder, but he doesn’t budge.”

Everyone is talking, eating, and playing some card games when Wes comes up, popping some peanuts into his mouth with one hand while holding an empty glass bottle in the other .

“Come on, Mimi. Let’s play Spin The Bottle, roulette style,” Wes states without question. Nathan stands, grabbing my waist without asking, then pulls me up to my feet.

I slap his hands off my body and shoot him a nasty look as I run my hands down my shirt, straightening it back out.

We’ve all played Spin The Bottle plenty of times in past years, but never ‘roulette style’.

“What’s roulette style?” I ask.

He places two Folgers coffee tins in the middle of the table. They both have a bunch of folded up pieces of paper in them.

“This canister,” he points at the green one, “has locations written on little pieces of paper. Things like, on the couch, in the circle, on the pool table, outdoor picnic table…” He looks over at the kitchen area then writes down another, saying aloud as he scribbles, “In the pantry.”

Daphne, another senior, takes a blank piece of paper, writing as she says out loud, “Against a tree,” placing it in the green container.

“This container,” he points at the red can, “holds pieces of paper with different actions written on them. Truth. Dare. French kiss. Over the pants handsy.” He lists out a few others as he passes around more pieces of paper to some of the other seniors that walk up.

“You guys can write down anything that comes to mind and place it in the jar.” He leans down, pressing his pencil to the paper, “ BJ, ” he says as a couple of people look at him wide-eyed. Some look curious and worried, others curious and interested.

“No. That can’t be in there,” I spit out.

“Sure it can be. Each person gets to write down whatever they want. Doesn’t mean they will get their own, but someone could.

So, the spinner will pick out of the location jar first, seeing where it will take place.

Then they will pick the action, then you spin the bottle picking your partner at random.

Everybody plays, no exceptions.” He taps the pencil to his chin.

“I guess I should write down, “ head ” or “ make me come ” instead, since a girl can’t give a girl a BJ.

” He shrugs since he already put BJ in the container.

I glance down as I see him write, make me come , on another before throwing it in the canister.

“Girl-girl, guy-guy. No matter who it lands on, you have to play,” Nathan announces to the group.

My jaw slacks as I look over at Shane, and by the expression on his face, he’s also worried about how this is all going to go down.

Nathan slides his hand over my waist, pulling me closer to him. He leans down and whispers in my ear, “Get your mouth ready, gorgeous,” as he shows me what he wrote down: lick my balls .

Disgusted, I attempt to pull away when the bell on the door pings through the room. I look up and Seamus is standing in the doorway. His eyes land straight on mine, then bounce between Nathan, me, Nathan's hand still resting on my hip, and back up to my eyes again.

He steps through the door and shuts it behind him, his body tense and rigid.

Wes clears his throat. “You’re not invited, semen.”

“I invited him,” I spit out, slapping Nathan's hand off me.

I walk toward him, meeting him halfway between the front door and where our circle is grouped together, holding out my arm, inviting him. “Come on, Seamus.”

He glances behind me at everyone gathered in a circle around the bottle and two containers, then slowly takes a step toward me.

“What are you getting me into, sunshine?” he asks under his breath so only I can hear him.

I should have let Wes kick him out and not rope him into this shitstorm waiting to happen, but I did actually invite him, and it would be totally messed up if I didn’t stand up for him .

Plus, I oddly feel comforted by his presence.

“Nothing you can’t handle, Rambo,” I whisper back as we line ourselves up with the others in the circle.

My eyes bounce around to everyone here. There’s only ten of us, and there are more guys than girls. A few others are playing darts, and Wes is yelling at them to come play, but they hold their hands up at him, shaking their head profusely.

Exactly what I should be doing.

Wes recaps the rules and I sneak a peek over at Seamus, since he wasn’t here when he said them before.

“Green jar picks the location. Red jar picks the action. Then you spin the bottle and whoever the narrow side points to is your partner. Everything is random and left to chance. We’ll go clockwise, starting with the oldest here, which is Nathan.

And like I said, your race, gender, religion, or any of the other shit doesn’t matter. Whoever you land on, is who you get.”

Seamus’ eyebrows shoot up to his forehead as he turns slowly to look at me.

If looks could kill. I would be dead.

I bite my lip and throw a lopsided smile at him, my eyes squinting an apology that I can’t verbalize.

His chest rises and he huffs out an annoying breath, and now that I think about it, I feel terrible. I would hate it if he pulled me into this.

When no one is looking, I slide my hand over his exposed forearm, giving him a tender squeeze. He looks down at where my hand is touching him, giving me a close lipped smile as his hand cups mine, telling me it’s okay.

Nathan reaches into the middle of the circle, grabbing a piece of paper from the green container. My eyes scan over everyone in the circle and their reaction is as still as mine. We all follow the paper as he unfolds it.

“On the pool table.” He flashes the paper up in the air before flicking it down on the table .

Then he reaches into the red container. “Hell yeah, lap dance,” he reads aloud before tossing that one ahead and reaching into the circle to spin the bottle.

Lap dance. Oh God, I can’t dance. My eyes bounce around the circle and I wonder who else is freaking out internally like I am. I guess it could be worse, but still. A lap dance, on the pool table, in front of everyone.

A flick of his wrist has the bottle spinning, the sound of the glass grazing circles on the wooden table vibrate through the room as everyone holds their breath.

It slows down, slowly, then slower, finally landing on…Wes.

The jaw dropping smile that crosses my face could be seen across the entire state of Texas.

A few hollers and hoots leave the group as Wes palms his face and Nathan throws his hands up. “What the fuck? Really?”

They joke and banter while Nathan wants to back out, but Wes forces him over to the pool table, reminding him, and all of us, that if you play, you play. And there is no backing out.

I glance over at Seamus, and he is smiling a tight lipped smile. I think he’s happy with the turn of events.

Wes takes his phone out of his pocket and taps the screen a few times, then the familiar beats of the Thong Song by Sisqó blare through his tiny speaker.

Wes, being the idiot that he is, ended up half stripping and making a joke about the whole thing, shaking his ass and humping Nathan’s leg. It was more humorous than it was sexual, and when it’s all done, we all clap and give Nathan a hard time for appearing flushed.

He claims that he was embarrassed, we obviously think he probably liked it.

After that’s all done, they return to the circle and the tension has softened.

Okay, maybe this won’t be so bad.

“Mimi, baby, it’s your turn,” Nathan calls out as he takes a sip of his water, looking directly at me with determination in his eyes.

“Not your baby.” I reach into the green canister, showing more confidence than I actually have and pull out a piece of paper.

Unfolding it, I say out loud, “In the bathroom.” I screw up my face, because yuck. But at least it’s private. Although, there’s probably only one person I’d be comfortable being alone with.

I sit to my full height and take a deep breath as I reach in the red jar, withdrawing with the folded note between my pointer and middle finger, then unfold it.

I gasp as I see the two little letters.

BJ

“Shit,” I whisper to myself. Seamus stares at the diabolical piece of paper then looks up at my face, his expression is completely unreadable.

Anger, maybe. Uneasiness, definitely.

“Hell yeah!” Nathan shouts. “That’s mine. Come on, Mimi, spin. Land on me, baby.”

Fuck. I’m having an internal fucking meltdown and my heartrate is through the roof.

“What happens if the bottle lands on a girl?” Daphne asks.

“Same, same.” Nathan rubs his palms together as he eyes the bottle. “Come on, Mimi, go.”

“There is no such thing as giving a girl a BJ, so it’s void if it lands on a girl. Even Wes said so himself earlier,” Shane replies, coming to my defense.

Everyone nods in agreement.

I shift my gaze to Shane with a thankful look.

“Fine, just spin,” Nathan finally agrees impatiently, then tips his chin at the bottle while he looks at me.

I glance around the circle once again then peek up at Seamus. His jaw is tight and he’s completely uncomfortable, looking anywhere but at me .

I’m completely frozen, nervous, and my body is in full shut down mode.

Wes whistles, ripping me out of my own head, and my eyes snap over in his direction.

He wiggles his eyebrows, and just his expression makes bile rise to my throat.

I take a deep breath and finally lean in to grab the bottle, but I can’t, I just can’t. I pull back again and palm my face. “Oh my God, I can’t do this.”

“Mimi, do it…you have to follow through,” Wes says, matter of fact.

“You can’t back out, we didn’t,” Nathan reminds me, and the entire group.

My cheeks puff out as I release a long breath.

I reach in, flick the bottle aggressively, and it spins fast. The air around all of us is thick, and no one is breathing. It’s like we’re all frozen in time and the bottle is the only thing in our subspace that moves. After a lifetime, it finally begins to slow, slow, slow, and stops.

Pointing directly at Shane.