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"a game of two truths, one lie." marcus says, it was late at night and everyone sat around the fire place, hearing the sizzling sparks of flames in front of my eyes was captivating.
"what happens if we lose?" charlie asks.
"drink up." marcus smiled, pulling out alcohol from underneath his seat.
"no no— i don't drink." i gave a faint smile.
i used to drink, but i stopped. after griffin died from a drunk driver, it reminded me too much of him. never went near one again and always turned down an offer.
marcus quickly changes the rules to make me feel more comfortable. "fine fine just for you, someone has to jump into a lake."
"don't give me that look—i will not be participating in that, carry on."charlie says, sitting on a log from across us. as both timothée and libby sit on the opposite direction.
"that sounds fun!" libby smiled.
i go to sit over on marcus lap, wrapping my arms around him, he smiled looking up at me.
timothée looks the other way. "are you guys like a thing now?" he asked.
"no." i say sternly. "friends."
"friends." marcus say.
riley walks outside, just staring at us. she wipes her eyes like she just had woke up, holding the teddy bear libby had her hanging from her hand.
"bed time." both timothée and i say at the same time, him and i glare at each other but quickly breaking eye contact.
i walk over to riley, holding her hand. "it's late riley." i say, she looks up at me with a confused look on her face while we made it back inside the house, while everyone was still outside.
"that's not right." riley nods her head, undeniably. she looked upset.
i hear footsteps from behind me, i turned around seeing timothée.
"just wanted to check on riley." timothée mumbled.
"it's not right." riley says again. "you're suppose to be next to timothée. not him."
i paused. "it's not like that riley." i say.
"my parents wouldn't do that." she says, staring up at me with her dark brown eyes.
"riley, we talked about this. we are not like your parents." i slowly raise my voice, frustrated about this whole 'parent' thing, that me and timothée had zero comparison to.
"yes you guys are! my parents choose me when i was a foster and you guys found me, together." she says. "both of you choose me."
"and i'm choosing not to be with fate, she is choosing not to me with me. two people who don't love each other aren't parents." timothée says, calming her down so easily.
"okay." riley takes a deep breath. "but it's not fair, why can't you guys just love each other." she mumbled, holding her teddy tight, walking back into her room.
this leaves the awkward silences, as i ignore eye contact with timothée. "okay then." i mumbled, walking back outside.
"you aren't gonna check up on her? you're just gonna go back to marcus." he says.
i turn around with judgement bulit on my face. "what's your problem with marcus?"
"just about everything."
"why do you care so much!"
"i don't care, i'm allowing you to fall and learn from your mistakes. everyone outside can see his true intentions and you're just blinded." he says.
"whatever happens is between us! just go away." i say, walking back outside.
marcus walks into the house, his anger is filled. i can see him hold his fist, ready to hit timothée. his eyes are targeted towards him.
"there he is." timothée joked.
marcus hits him from under the jaw and his eyes, timothée steps away and swings at him back; hitting him three times, marcus stumbled. the right cheekbone of marcus is hammered with blood rushing down. i tried telling them to stop but it only added fuel to the fire, they didn't care for what i had to say.
"hey mate! what's all the fuss about." charlie opens the door after hearing the heated fight. he tries and stops them. pushing them both aside.
marcus wipes the blood with his jacket. "you're gonna wish you never did that dipshit!" marcus says.
"already did dumbass." timothée says. "shit fucking hurts, not to bad of a swing." he holds his eyes, holding in his smile.
libby turns away to hide the grin on her face because of timothée funny remark, i didn't seem to find funny. marcus walks out the house and timothée goes into our room.
i grab a bag of frozen peas from out of the fridge and follow timothée. "are you serious!" i say, shutting the door.
"you're fucking boyfriend- or whatever he is! hit me first." he says. "so i don't know why you're mad at me."
i throw the ice bag at his lap. "both of you are idiots i swear, what was the point in all this!"
timothée takes his bloody shirt off, throwing it across the room revealing his perfectly formed body, with his even abs.
"go ask him. why the fuck are you still with me." he says, putting the ice bag on his eye that were beat red already. "your weak ass boyfriend is bleeding, so i suggest you go back to him." he says.
"he's not my boyfriend you jerk!" i say scuffing away. "and he's not weak!" i shut the door.
i knock on marcus door, i see him open it. the side of his cheek still batted and torn as he held a warm wet towel to it.
charlie looks at both of us. "you guys can have your moment, i'll be back." he walks out.
"why marcus." i sighed, holding the towel on marcus eyes, while i cross my legs, sitting besides him on his bed.
"he raised his voice at you." he says.
i wipe the blood from underneath his cheekbones. "that doesn't mean hit him marcus."
"and—after the fight. you went to him, not me." he says.
"because i was mad at him, so i went to tell him first."
"is this what you're gonna do? always go to him first?" he narrowed his eyebrows at me, in a confused but angry way.
i press the towel, applying pressure on his wound to shut him up.
"ow ow ow!" he frowned.
"be quiet." i mumbled.
but he continues talking. "and you sharing rooms with him! it's weird. i'm suppose to be with you. but i'm stuck with charlie." he says, throwing his hands up, then placing it back down out of frustration.
"sharing rooms because timothée and i were together first, way before you came along." i gave him an odd look, it shouldn't have to be a competition. this whole fight was unnecessary and i don't know the reasoning or motive behind it.
"change rooms then, you're with me not him." he looks me intensely in the eyes, holding my wrist softly stopping me from moving the towel.
