See No Evil

Before I do something stupid, like kiss Fi

“Sit up, quarterback. We’re going to play a game.”

“What game?” He eyes me curiously, his bulging biceps elevating his upper body.

“Since you’ve got a boner for intel, what better way than a drinking game to get to know each other?”

“First of all, I didn’t get a boner,” he scoffs, but when my mocking eyes lock on his stirring cock, he sits up straight, trying his best to conceal the evidence of my statement. Guess I’m not the only one here with their libido on high alert tonight. “And second, aren’t we a little old for drinking games?”

I place both hands over his mouth and shake my head from side to side.

“No more blasphemous comments out of you. We’re going to play, and you’re going to have fun. Trust me,” I say with a flirtatious wink.

I feel his cocky-ass smirk touch my palms, and I immediately pull away, as if the sun just scorched my skin, leaving a visible imprint on me.

“Fine,” he replies, caving in to my demands. “So what are we playing? Some truth or dare thing?”

“Can you be any more bourgeois?” I yawn, feigning boredom.

“Then, what?” He chuckles amused and continues, “Remember, I can’t get plastered since I’m your ride home.”

“Hmm, you’re right,” I muse.

I start tapping the pad of my finger on the tip of my nose, trying to come up with an alternative that will keep me both entertained, as well as distracted from wanting to climb Fi

“Now, don’t you go and worry that pretty head of yours. I got the perfect game for us,” I a

I break the seal and take a pull of tequila to warm me up while I wait for Fi

“I don’t know if I like that look in your eye,” he a

“Since you can’t drink too much, we need to come up with an alternative—one that will be advantageous and fair to both of us. I say, we ask each other questions, and when we refuse to shell out the dirt, then, as punishment, either we can take a swig out of my man here.” I tap the bottle in question before laying my devious scheme on him, “or we can take off a piece of clothing. However, if whoever is in the hot seat does answer, then it falls on the person who did the questioning to drink up or strip down. The wrinkle is that you can’t repeat the same punishment twice in a row. Got it? Or was that too hard for you to keep up with?”

“You want to see me without my clothes on?” he asks, half-thrilled at the idea, half-petrified, completely disregarding the little dig I made at his expense.

“Is that your first question? Because, I gotta tell you, that shirt you’ve got on is out of here sooner than I thought. Yes, pretty boy. I want you to take your clothes off. If I have to endure a night with you, then the least you can do is give me some eye-candy to indulge in. And in return, you have the pleasure of my company. Now isn’t that a fair trade?”

He chuckles again and takes the bottle from my grip, taking a healthy gulp rather than rocking my world with his bare chest. I pretend to pout at his poor choice of punishment.

“Don’t take the fun out of my game, quarterback, or else it’s going to be a long night for both of us.”

“I sure hope so,” he teases, handing me back the bottle. “My turn to ask the questions.”

“Go on.”

“You told me you lived in a trailer. Do you still live there?”

I throw my eyes at the sky, unamused and a little disappointed with his line of questioning.

“No. I live back at the dorms in Richfield. Don’t worry, Fi

“That’s not why I asked,” he states, seemingly offended.

“Sure it wasn’t. Either way, I don’t care. It’s my turn on the mic. Do your friends know you geek out looking up at the stars?”

His scowl turns deep, as he grabs at the base of his shirt, pulling it over his head and throwing it to the ground beside me in defiance. My vivid imagination couldn’t compare to the real-life sculpted figure in front of me.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so,” I utter mockingly, trying to conceal how all those deep ridges and steel planes have me panting a little. “Why not?”

“First, I didn’t answer your question. And second, wait your turn,” he points at me. “It’s mine now.”

I shrug my shoulders, pretending not to be bothered either way. But, of course, I should have suspected he wouldn’t pull any punches with his next question since I was the one who decided to take the kid gloves off in the first place.

“Why do you get all defensive when I ask you something personal?”

Instead of answering his fine ass, I take a long gulp of tequila and stick my tongue out at him once I’m done.

“Fine, if that’s how you’re going to play this. But fair warning, miss the next one, and it’s your shirt that falls on the ground.”

“Pity you’re going to have to wait a little longer, considering it’s my turn now.”

“I’m not afraid. Give it your best shot, little girl,” he taunts, tapping on his cheek and waiting expectantly for the metaphorical punch.

“Have you ever kept any other secrets from your friends?”

“Yes,” he deadpans, not leaving much room for misinterpretation.

“So, I guess the grass isn’t greener on the Northside either, huh?”

“Everyone has their demons to face, Stone. The place where you’re born doesn’t factor much into it.”

“Got a lot of monsters keeping you awake at night, do you?” I ask skeptically.

“More than most. I just answered three of your questions back to back. Get up, little girl. It’s your turn to take it all off,” he commands, his voice just as sharp and hard as the bulging muscles he’s proudly showcasing.

I flip him off for good measure but stand up just the same. Three questions equal three pieces of clothing. No sweat. I take off my chucks, each one landing in a different location after they’ve successfully managed to zoom past his head.