Clover flashes her brilliant smile, adding, “Not for me! Dunno who you thought you were playing with, Ames.”

The thump of the music is drowned out by the beginning of tipsy laughter.

ON THEIR second round of drinks—everyone else ordering another cocktail while Rowan sticks with the first beer he’s had since the tequila earlier—the game turns predictably dirty. It’s a welcome distraction from Mal’s thigh pressed heavy and warm against Rowan’s own, far closer than he needs to be for the size of the table.

“Never have I ever… given a blowjob,” Clover smirks, watching as the rest of the group groans and takes a drink.

“Well, that’s fuckin’ dumb,” Mal grumbles. “How ’bout… never have I ever worked at a sex club.”

Clover, Camilla, and Jeremiah all drink with a roll of their eyes. While everyone is distracted, Rowan takes a tiny swig of his beer, avoiding Mal’s eyes when he senses him staring at him.

But—

“Really?” Amy interjects, words slightly slurred, apparently not having any of the tact that the rest of the group does when slightly intoxicated.

Something a little too close to shame makes Rowan’s fingertips swell as he clinks the beer glass with the side of his fingernail.

“Yeah,” he confesses, attempting to sound nonchalant. “It’s a long story.”

And not one I particularly want to tell in front of all these tentative new friends, he thinks. Or Mal.

He knows that, most likely, no one here would judge him for his past—for being out of his mind and on too many unprescribed pills to name and fucking everyone in a ten-foot radius—but the self-doubt runs deep in his veins, and some habits are hard to break on a whim. Hard to share during a silly game.

“We’ve all got our skeletons,” Jeremiah says, absentmindedly thumbing at the crook of his elbow.

The gesture is a familiar one to Rowan—something he’d seen countless times when nameless men used to offer him something stronger than weed or booze or ecstasy or coke. Something that would Make you feel like you’re floating, baby. He shudders at the memory. And he’d never have guessed that Jeremiah used to use, but he’s glad that he seems to have gotten out.

“My turn,” Clover says, breaking the tension. “Never have I ever… gone skiing.”

“Who the fuck has? We’re in the middle of the city,” Mal quips.

No one drinks, and the group laughs after a round of curious eye contact.

“All right, you’re up, Red,” Mal says, any semblance of order they’d been following at the beginning of the game now completely shattered as they bounce around the circle, calling one another out randomly.

“Hm… never have I ever… owned more than one dildo.”

“Oh fuck you,” Mal retorts, taking a deep drink.

To his surprise, the rest of the group drink as well.

“Looks like I’m in the minority on that one,” Rowan laughs.

“Fucking did not need to know that, Mal,” Amy scoffs, face scrunched in disgust.