Mia POV
Kyle's mouth is moving, and the words are coming out, but I stopped really hearing them about ten seconds ago.
It was nothing. Just the game. The tissue was there; it does not even count as kissing. You know how these things go.
I know how these things go.
I know exactly how they go, because this is the third time in two years that Kyle has done something wrong and then explained it to me like I am the problem for noticing. The first time was a text I was not supposed to see. The second time was a party I was not supposed to find out about. Each time, the explanation was smooth and fast and almost made sense, as he had practiced.
This time, he has an audience.
That is the part that burns the most, not the tissue paper, not the girl, not even the kiss. It is the six people sitting at this table watching Kyle explain himself to me, and the way not one of them looks sorry. They look entertained. Like, I am a show that just got interesting.
Becca is not even pretending anymore. She has her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand, and she is watching me the way you watch a video online, waiting to see if the person falls.
She laughs. Short and bright, like she could not help it.
That sound goes into my skin like a splinter.
I push back from the table.
Kyle's hand closes around my wrist before I am fully standing.
Not hard. Not mean. Just automatic. The way he always stops me when he does not want me to go somewhere. Like I am a door he can close whenever he needs to.
"Mia. Come on." His voice is low. Private-sounding. The voice he uses when he wants me to remember that we are us and everyone else is just everyone else. "Don't do this here."
Don't do this here.
He kissed a girl in front of forty people, and I am the one who should not do something here.
I look down at his hand on my wrist.
I look up at his face.
He is not scared. He is not even that sorry. He is just waiting for me to decide to be easy. That is what his face says. Come on, Mia. Be easy. You are always easy.
"Let go," I say.
He lets go.
But then Marcus says, "One round, Mia. Just play one round." He says it like he is doing me a favor. Like this is an invitation.
Tyler spins the empty bottle idly on the table and says, "Prove you're fun." He grins. "Unless you're not."
I hear what he is not saying. We all hear it. Kyle's girlfriend is boring. Kyle's girlfriend can't take a joke. Kyle's girlfriend is going to ruin the night because she can't just relax.
Becca says, still smiling: "Yeah. Show us you can take a joke."
And this is the trap, right here. I see it completely. If I leave, I am the uptight girlfriend who could not handle a silly game. If I stay, I am playing by their rules on their table on the worst night of my year. There is no version of this where I win.
I know this.
I sit back down.
Kyle's shoulders drop in relief. He thinks this means I forgive him. He does not say thank you. He just reaches over and touches my knee like we are fine now, like his hand fixes things, and I let him because picking that fight right now in front of Becca's smiling face is not something I can do.
Not yet.
Tyler slides the bottle to the center. "Okay. Birthday girl plays. One round. Someone spin."
Marcus spins it.
The bottle goes around fast, then slower, slower.
It stops.
Pointing at Becca.
She straightens up and says the truth before anyone asks. Someone shouts a question about a guy from her class, and she answers with a story that makes everyone laugh. I watch her talk, and I think: she knew Kyle would be here tonight. She always knows where Kyle is.
The bottle spins again. Stops at Tyler. Dare. He has to text his ex. He does it immediately. Everyone groans and laughs.
The bottle spins again. Marcus. Truth. Boring answer.
The bottle spins again.
It slows.
It points at me.
The table goes quiet in a specific way, not the fun kind of quiet where everyone is excited. The careful kind. Like something is about to be decided.
Kyle shifts next to me.
Tyler leans forward with a smile I do not like. "Dare," he says, deciding for me. "The birthday girl gets a dare."
"I didn't say dare," I say.
"It's more fun," Becca says. "Don't you want fun? On your birthday?"
She says birthday like it means something else.
Tyler looks at the group, playing the host now, building the moment. "Okay. Here is the dare." He pauses for effect. "Pick any guy in this room. Any guy at all. Seven minutes in heaven." He opens his hands as if this is very generous. "Birthday special."
Someone whistles. Someone laughs.
Kyle goes very still next to me.
Because this is the dare designed to fix everything, I pick Kyle, we disappear for seven minutes, we come back, and everyone agrees the night was fun and the tissue paper thing was just a game, and Mia is cool after all.
That is the plan. I can see it on every face at this table.
Pick Kyle. Make it cute. Make it a story.
I look at Kyle. His face is open now, softer than it has been all night. He thinks I am about to choose him. He is already almost smiling.
I look around the room instead.
I am not doing it on purpose, not at first. I am just looking. Stalling. Trying to breathe through the humiliation still burning across my chest.
And that is when I see him.
Corner table. Alone. Dark jacket, one drink he has not touched. He is not looking at his phone, not talking to anyone. He is watching the game from a distance, the way you watch a fire, like he finds it interesting, but does not want to be near it.
He is older. Not old but not twenty. There is something about the way he sits. He is very comfortable taking up only the space he actually needs. Like he has never once tried to be the loudest person in a room.
He is the only person here who has not laughed at me tonight.
I do not know his name.
I do not know anything about him.
I just know that every single person at this table is waiting for me to be predictable.
I stand up.
And I walk toward the corner.
Behind me, I hear the table go silent.
Then Kyle's voice is sharp, not soft anymore:
"Mia. What are you doing?"
I do not answer.
I do not stop.