One Shot Collection (Chaelisa)

Never Have I Ever

If this were a normal Friday night, I would've left Jennie Kim's party before midnight. Curfew is non-negotiable in the Park household, and I'm way past it. But my parents are in Downtown for their anniversary, and as Jennie pointed out when convincing me to stay, "It's not like they put a tracking device on your phone before they left, Rosé."

Probably. My father didn't become the detective with the most arrests on the Venice Beach Police Department without having a few tricks up her sleeve. It's almost two in the morning, though, and I haven't received a get your ass home text yet, so I'm probably safe.

From parental ire, anyway. Not from playing what feels like an endless Never Have I Ever card game in Jennie's basement. Granted, I'm the one who suggested it, but we've barely started and I'm already yawning. Still, this is about as exciting as nightlife gets for our nerd crew, even when it's well after midnight.

"Never have I ever gone skinny dipping," Kim Jisoo, Jennie's girlfriend, reads from the card she's holding. The dozen or so people sitting in a circle on Jennie's threadbare rug all take a drink, except for me.

"Liars," I say.

Jisoo rolls her eyes as she chugs the last of her beer. "Rosé Park, ladies and gentlemen. Oh-for-four in this game because she's allergic to fun."

"Because I'm honest," I protest. "You guys are only pretending you've done stuff so you can drink."

"Which. Is. Fun," Jisoo reminds me.

"I guess," I mutter, shifting restlessly beside her. Every party at Jennie's house is exactly the same: we watch movies, we drink (but never too much), and we play some kind of game. Usually, the game is designed to let us experiment with being edgier than we actually are; last time, it was Crimes Against Humanity.

Which is fine. Obviously. I'm Detective Mason Park's child; mildly risqué card games and warm beer are as edgy as I'm supposed to get. I am, as my father likes to remind me, a Role Model. I used to chafe at being labeled "the boring one" in a group that's not known for excitement, but I've come to accept it. Mostly.

"Maybe you're not asking the right questions," someone says.

We all turn at the new voice, and my pulse picks up when I see who's leaning against Jennie's wall near the basement stairs. "What the hell is Lisa Manoban doing here?" my friend Hyeri whispers in my ear. It shouldn't be any surprise that Lisa's at a late-night party-that's pretty much what she's known for, along with using a fake ID to buy alcohol for said parties - but she's never bothered with our crowd before. Everybody in the circle tenses, like a herd of gazelles that just realized a lion wandered into their midst during mealtime.

"I, um..." I whisper back, trailing off as Lisa's eyes find mine and she smirks in recognition. "I might've invited her."

Take that, Jisoo. Lisa Manoban might be a lot of things, but boring isn't one of them.

"Whaaaaaat?" Hyeri breathes, taking a bracing sip from her cup. Of Sprite. She drove here, but even if she hadn't, she's not a drinker. "When did you... why would you..."

"It was a spur of the moment thing," I say. "We were both in the principal's office this afternoon." My friend's eyebrows arch higher as I add, "I was making copies of next week's resolution for debate team." Debate is one of the many, many extracurricular activities that Hyeri and I do together.

"And what was she doing?"

"I didn't ask. It seemed, um, discipline-related."

Hyeri regards me doubtfully, and I don't blame her. She's one of the most careful, methodical people I've ever met. She needs a scholarship to get out of Venice Beach, and every move she makes is part of a complex calculation where the under¬lying equation is always how will this look to a college admissions officer?