ocean eyes || c.evans

viii.

Never Have I Ever was a dangerous game.

Never Have I Ever, mixed with truth or dare and maybe a touch too much alcohol? A lot worse.

The rules of the game were simple: propose something you’ve never done, or had always wanted to do, and if the other person had done it, they’d drink. But there was a catch: should the person who had done it wish it, they could dare the other to do it. If they refused, they had to do another shot, and the game would continue.

There were three things responsible for why you were outside in the chilled night air stripped down to your underwear.

The first to blame was Chris.

You could still remember his ever-so-cocky proclamation, already pouring out a shot for you to take. “Never have I ever gone skinny dipping.”

Any doubt he had in his mind of whether or not you had – his assumption unfounded and vaguely unwarranted, but no less true – was immediately banished by your exasperated sigh and your taking of the shot glass from his fingertips.

Which led you to the second thing to blame: alcohol.

Alcohol had you loosened up and far too familiar around him, more bold and daring than sobriety would care for. You always prided yourself on being able to speak your mind, but around Chris, you were often rendered speechless. Or at least a bit more censored.

And so it was alcohol who set you up for the third to blame: yourself.

The shot went down easy – it was the fancy stuff, with a smoother texture than anything you’d ever consumed before, often only being able to afford the cheapest shot on the menu (often reminiscent of rubbing alcohol) when going out with friends – and was followed by an undaunted request slipping past liquored lips. “Alright, well, I dare you to go skinny dipping.”

It didn’t sound like you, but it was entirely you. And once the words were said, there was no taking them back.

An unidentifiable look crossed Chris’ face, gone almost instantly, replaced by the furrow of his brow in mild confusion, before morphing into a lopsided mischievous grin. “Only if you come with me.”

And so there you were, half naked and shuddering in the breeze that toyed with the ends of your hair.

“You were being serious?”

Chris had come outside to join you, and you found a hint of annoyance at the fact that he was still fully clothed.

“Deadly,” you managed to get out past the chattering vibration of your teeth.

“You do know that skinny dipping means fully nude, right? Otherwise it doesn’t count.”

“I know,” you bit back. You had your arms folded over yourself, suddenly self conscious under his heavy gaze.

He made no effort to disguise his appreciation, alcohol clouding his better judgement. Heated blue eyes raked over your figure, languid, slow. The tip of his tongue darted out to swipe across his lips.

His lids were hooded, easily dropping into a cheeky wink.

There was something about his hungry gaze on you that ate away at all inhibitions, and you dropped your arms, revealing yourself fully to him.