Fake dating (hamzah the fantastic)

chapter 7

We stayed talking in the kitchen for a little bit before he asked me, "wanna go upstairs?"

"Like, to the bedroom?"

"Yeah, just us. We could play like a drinking game or something." He held up one of the bottles from the counter.

"Okay," and I followed him upstairs. We both sat down on the bedroom floor, facing each other with the shot glasses in front of us.

"Let's play truth or drink," he said. "So I'll ask a question, and then you can either answer or take a shot."

"Okay," I giggled.

"So," he said. "How old were you when you started drinking?"

"That's a stupid question," I said. "I think I was ten."

"Ten?!" he said.

I laughed. "Like I tried a sip of my mom's wine. Obviously I didn't start drinking until, like, highschool."

"Okay, my turn," I said. I thought for a moment. "Why did you and Fran break up?"

"Oh," he said. "I'm not answering that," he took a shot.

"Why not?" I laughed. He wiped his mouth and said, "it's just a long story. My turn. How did you lose your virginity?"

"Oh my gosh," I said. "Okay, that escalated. I'm not answering that either." I took a shot.

"C'mon," he said. "Just tell me. I wanna know more about you."

"By asking that?" I laughed. "I just don't really like talking about it because that was with my first boyfriend and he just treated me badly."

"How so?"

"He was just really mean. He would make comments about my lifestyle and body. But I just let it slide because that was a really bad time in my life and it was just- nice to have someone care about me. Because he was nice sometimes."

"Oh," he said.

"Sorry, I don't mean to, like, dump on you. I'm okay now."

"No," he said. "It's fine."

It was silent for a moment until he said, "Like why was it a bad time? In your life?"

"Um," I said. All the alcohol was making my brain really hazy.

"It was just a bad time because that's around the time my dad died."

"Oh," he said again. "I didn't know that. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I said. "It was a long time ago." Suddenly I was hit with a wave of exhaustion. "I'm tired."

"Okay," he said. We both climbed into the bed, me on the right side and him on the left. Hamzah leaned over and turned the lights off.

It was quiet for a moment and then I said, "Sorry, I didn't mean to ruin the mood."

"It's okay," he yawned and then said, "do you wanna talk about it?"

I sighed. "It just made me a really reserved person. It's hard to feel like people care about me. Like I'm always looking for that."

"I get that. I'm sorry," he said.

What for? I thought. But my mouth wasn't working and I couldn't form the words. Eventually I fell asleep.