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This chapter is in Jack's perspective.
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Hey! Sorry for basing so many chapters off of Jack thus far - I base whose perspective it is off of what happens in the chapter. I hope you guys enjoy!
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The table had been cleared off, the snacks had been laid out, and the house was spotless for the crowd of boys that were about to flood in the front doors; somehow, over the course of one day through text message and a few phone calls, the get-together was transformed into an overnight stay at my log cabin, meaning that my mum would go out of her way to make it the best damn sleepover I'd ever had - it was only my second one at the age of eighteen, the age when most would consider moving out and have sleepovers be the furthest thing from their minds.
I watched as she took the cookies out of the oven, not even bothering to put on her cooking mittens, just as tough as any Irish mother. She hissed as she placed the tray on the dining table uneasily, next to the cans of Coke and bags of chips. She'd gone all-out on this one night of fun, something that I surveyed as her only way of making sure that her last child's final sleepover was a success (for I surely wasn't having another one), the last sleepover she'd ever have in this house. I could see her grimace growing stronger with every passing minute, the guests soon to arrive. In about ten minutes, she'd have to run sobbing upstairs, for I definitely didn't intend on having her hang around in order to embarrass the hell out of me - however, I could tell just by the expression on her face that she was physically pleading for me to let her stay, which would make me break the rules that we'd discussed less than half an hour ago, and I wasn't in the mood to change my mind.
"I've told you a hundred times and I'll tell 'ye a hundred more," I said firmly, bending down to pick up a stray book and place it back on the bookshelf, "I don't want you on the same floor as these guys and I for as long as they're here. Understood?"
She whined as she wiped off the kitchen counter, easily visible from where I was now sitting at the dining table. "But Seán, don't you want me to get to know yer friends?"
"They're not friends, mum," I admitted. "They're just here to work on a project - nothing more." Greedily, I stole a can and chugged it down, earning myself an angry look.
"Well, lucky for you, I need to go grocery shoppin' after making that buffet for you and your 'not friends.' Promise me you won't do anything ridiculous while I'm gone?"
"Promise," I assured her, knowing that nothing exciting would happen this evening. What exciting could happen when you were trapped in a room with your worst enemy and three nerds? I felt bored just waiting for them to come over, not knowing how long it'd take me to fall asleep tonight.
As she rummaged through her purse, ready to head out the back door and towards The Shoppe, footsteps could be heard treading lightly down the stairs, followed by my father, distractedly reading the newspaper as he sat on a dining chair. "The same goes for you, dad," I said.
"What goes for me?" he asked, letting me know that mum hadn't let him know of tonight's plans as she'd promised she would. "And what's with the food over here?"
Reaching over to grab at the plate of cookies she'd just set out, my father looked over at my mother, who was staring daggers at him. "Don't you dare take a bite out of one of those, you pig. Those are for Seán's friends!"
"What friends?" he joked. He stuffed it into his mouth as my cheeks grew a bright red, something that I tried to cover up by burying my face into my folded arms, breathing into the wooden table.
"Four young men," she replied, stepping towards the door in order to put on her flats. "Felix, a nice boy named Mark, and two others... you know, your daughter says that Mark is very sweet."
"Yeah," I butted in. "Other than the fact that he spilled coffee all over my new jeans, he's perfectly fine."
"So that's the bastard that spilled coffee on my son's brand new pair of pants!" my father cried. "How can he be so sweet if he's goin' around ripping money right from my wallet? Those pants were ninety euros!"
My mother opened the door, stepping out and into the open. I expected her to say her usual "goodbye," "have a nice day," or "shut your mouth, fuckin' pig," but, instead, she said an astonishing, "Hello." My father and I turned in perfect unison to see what'd caught her attention, only to see Felix standing in the doorway, his hands holding onto one another as he stepped inside. My father welcomed him, giving the old, "Long time no see," making it even more awkward than it already was for the two of us - why did he have to show up first?
It was a good five minutes' worth of awkward silence between Felix and I before Bob and Wade finally showed up, followed by Mark, a brown coffee stain spilled on the neck of his t-shirt, telling me that he'd rushed here from his second shift. We began working on the project (which was, as expected, an absolute bore) and soon decided to take a break, seeing as we'd come up with the entire script already. All that was left to do was make the costumes, which we would save for another day, a day that would hopefully be spent either at school or someone else's house.
With nothing to do, Wade suddenly questioned, "Hey, why don't we play Truth Or Dare?"
We all stared at one another expectantly, most expressions asking if the person they were staring at thought it was a good idea. I, however, looked out the window, wanting to run as far away from the current situation as possible, out and into the forest beyond. Truth Or Dare is a stupid game for stupid people, much like Spin The Bottle or Charlie Charlie, a game that Felix absolutely adored playing just last year, unaware of the fact that I was gently blowing on the end of the pencil, forcing it to move. Games like this were (and are) ridiculous, especially when eighteen-year-old boys played them - what was the purpose? What was there to gain other than worthless drama and humiliating stupid acts that could easily be caught on camera? I didn't understand, but, seeing as majority rules, we started to play, with Bob taking the first turn.
"Felix, truth or dare?" he asked, smiling in Felix's direction.
Not nearly caring enough to look up from the table, Felix muttered, "Dare."
"I dare you to..." He looked about the room for a short period of time, pausing on his pants under the table. "Hold hands with Mark until one of you has to do another dare."
"What?" Felix asked, looking up in shock. He turned to Mark, sitting next to him, before turning back Bob, his eyes wide. "That doesn't even make sense." I was astonished at how he managed to sound so calm, fierce, and uncaring even in such a strange situation.
"I don't know, I looked it up online. But you're both wearing pants that would work - just do it!"
"That's weird," Felix snapped. "I'm not doing something so stupid. Give me another one."
"You can't skip out on a dare," Wade intercepted. "It's against the rules - you're going to have to take a penalty point if you decide against it."
"'Penalty point?'"
"If you have three penalty points, you're out," Bob explained.
Wade, interrupting, cried out, "My turn! Jack, truth or dare?"
My stomach dropped at the sound of my name, my eyes barely making their way over to Wade, who grinned expectantly. I looked him up and down, searching my mind frantically for the right thing to say - was there a proper way out of this? "I'm not playing" would be a stupid thing to say - they would get me to do or say some kind of truth or dare before I could easily butt out. It was all up to what brought upon a better scenario; truth could make me have to admit my crush (nonexistent) or having to say why Felix and I stopped being friends, while dare would make me look like an idiot and cost unsurpassable amounts of dignity. Losing dignity was better than having to let out your inner feelings, though.
"Dare."
As if he'd planned it all out, as if he'd devised this entire, exact moment, he let out the statement that I prayed wouldn't be released while the four of us were playing.
"I dare you to kiss Mark."
YOU ARE READING
Ever After
Fanfiction"His eyes - oh, God, his eyes - were an entirely different story. Staring into his eyes was like staring into the summer sky just before the sunset came, before the yellow, pink, and purple clouds came to fog up your vision. They were the definition...
