Work Text:
It was 7:30 PM on day 19 of the quarantine, and Teresa, James, Pote, and George had been trapped inside one tiny house in New York state for almost three weeks. They’d had their ups and downs as a group, but they were getting by. As the days dragged on, Teresa tried to focus on the positives of the experience so far - such as Pote teaching her how to make a dulce de leche sauce for raspados, George getting James drunk and making him sing 90s pop karaoke with him, and celebrating the 15 day mark with cake and as a family.
Despite those high points, even she couldn’t deny that quarantine was getting a little...boring.
“I’m so bored! ” George complained for the tenth time that day as he lounged on the couch and flipped through the channels on the tv. “I still can’t believe we got such a cheap ass house that they don’t have Netflix. Not even a damn Chromecast!”
Pote and James, who were sitting at the kitchen island - which served as the eating space - ignored him and continued cleaning their guns. Teresa wondered why they did this pretty much daily, especially since she knew for a fact that neither of them had used a gun since arriving in New York. She supposed they liked the routine and the familiarity. She couldn’t fault them for that.
Teresa glanced up from where she was sitting in the only armchair on her laptop. She’d been running through different cost analyses the last few days to try to decide on some potential business moves here. “Why don’t you read one of the books on the shelf under the TV?” she suggested absently for the 8th time since they’d gone into quarantine.
“You know what? What the hell. Might as well.” George heaved himself off the couch and ambled over to the small TV stand that had a few books stood up on one of it’s shelves. He ran his finger over the spines and paused on a dark green paperback. “Engaging the Enemy. Sounds badass! Ok, let’s see what you’ve got, Miss Nora Roberts.”
George flipped to a random page and started reading. “She’d never known a man could give so much. Racked with sensations, she arched under him.” Teresa stopped reading her chart and looked up, blinking. She caught James and Pote doing the same, their expressions bewildered. “Hot and ready, she offered. But he was far from through. The taste of her thighs - holy shit!” George cackled. “I can’t believe there was goddamn porn on this bookshelf the whole time!”
“Go read it to yourself,” Pote asserted. “We don’t need to be a part of this.”
James smirked at George who was flipping through the book like a giddy schoolboy.
“Alright, I hear you. I’m just going to go set it on my nightstand so I have some nice bedtime stories to look forward to tonight.”
Teresa shook her head and went back to work as George strutted down the hall to his little room with the book in his hand.
“I’m glad my room’s not next to his,” Pote groused, refocusing on his gun.
James made a face. “Great,” he drawled, realizing that the couch on which he slept was adjacent to George’s bedroom wall. Teresa still felt an uncomfortable tug in her chest every time she remembered that James had been sleeping on a couch for almost three weeks. When she’d rented this home, she hadn’t worried about the size since she assumed they wouldn’t be here for more than a couple days. Her priority had been finding a place that would be the least suspicious. But now 20 days later, she wished she had at least found somewhere where he could have a bed . He didn’t deserve to be relegated to a lumpy couch for weeks on end.
“George will behave,” Teresa responded.
James gave her a look. “This is the same man who scared the neighbor girl when he decided to sunbathe on the front sidewalk in his speedo.”
Teresa had almost forgotten about that incident. The only time they’d been on the police’s radar since arriving here was on day 6 when the preteen at one of the neighboring houses called 911 to report a “dead, naked man” in the yard across the street. That had been fun to sort out.
“James is right,” Pote confirmed. “George doesn't even know what good behavior is . I hope you brought some earplugs.”
“You bitches are never gonna guess what I just found!” George yelled from down the hallway.
Teresa craned her neck to try to look toward him.
Pote groaned.
James mumbled, “here we go.”
George emerged from his bedroom carrying a flat, faded box. Along the side of the box, Teresa could make out four letters set against multi-colored rectangular backgrounds: L.I.F.E. “I found this gem under my bed! Gather around, it’s family game night!”
“What is it?” Teresa wondered.
James swiveled to glance at her, a look of surprise on his face. Pote wore a similar expression. “Teresita, you’ve never played the game of LIFE?”
Teresa’s brows furrowed. “Is that some kind of metaphor?”
“Please tell me you did not just say that!” George bellowed. “It’s a board game . One of the classics!” He set the game down on the coffee table and took a seat in the only armchair.
“I’ve never played,” Teresa mused. She approached, taking a seat on the floor at the edge of the coffee table, and craning her neck to examine the contents of the box as George lifted the lid. Pote took a spot on the couch, and James sat on the floor adjacent to her, his back resting against the opposite end of the couch from Pote. Pote passed around some plastic cups that were stacked on the side table as well as a bottle of liquor. It was an unstated understanding that they would drink their way through this game.
“That’s a travesty that we’re about to rectify!” George asserted while he unfolded the brightly colored game board and laid it flat. Teresa watched with interest as George began adding strange, plastic pieces to the board - a spinner and a couple weird pieces that looked like bridges and buildings.
Pote grabbed some pieces of paper out of the box that looked like some sort of fake money and began to sort it into piles. “What are the rules?” she wondered.
“You move your car around the board depending on the number you spin, and do whatever it says on the space you land,” James supplied. “The goal is to have the most money at the end.”
“You’ve played?” Teresa questioned.
A ghost of a smile passed his lips and then faded. “Not since I was a kid.”
“I call the red van,” George interjected, grabbing a small piece from the pile of plastic pieces still in the box. Teresa glanced in and saw some other tiny multi-colored cars with holes in the top. There were also a handful of tiny blue and pink pegs scattered around the box.
“Hand me the blue,” Pote demanded. Teresa did so, fitting one of the blue pegs into the blue car the way she saw George do.
Teresa picked the white car for herself and added a pink peg into the driver’s seat, and James chose the green car and fitted his tiny blue peg into the top of the car. They set their cars at the start of the board.
“Pote, there’s no funny business with the bank, you hear?” George said seriously. “None of the illegal lying and cheating we do on a normal day applies right now. I want a clean, honest game. When I kick ya’ll’s asses, I want you to know it was done honestly.”
“Right,” James deadpanned.
“The only one about to kick ass in this game is me,” Pote asserted, straightening his money piles. “And trust me, I won’t need to cheat to do it.”
Teresa sipped her drink and let her eyes scan the board as they ribbed each other. It looked like the events in each space on the board followed the milestones of an average human’s life. It started with young adulthood, went through getting a job and getting married, and ended with retirement. George announced that first each player had to decide if they would start by getting a job, or start by taking the longer route and going into debt to get a college degree.
Having not played, Teresa wondered if there was some sort of strategy to this decision that she didn’t quite know or understand. Pote and George instantly lined their cars up on the “straight to job” track. Pote made a comment about never needing a degree before and not needing one now, and George said there was no way he was taking out a loan before he even had a job. James set his on the college track, but didn’t explain his reasoning. It was only a game with fake money, so Teresa thought, why not? and set her white minivan behind James’s in the college lane.
Pote laughed in delight. “Ha ha, Teresita. Here’s your $40,000 loan money. Hope college is worth it.”
Teresa took her loan document and stuck out her tongue at Pote. “I didn’t get to go in my real life, so I might as well go when it’s fake.”
“Your mistake!” George cackled.
They all spun to see who would go first, then began the game. When it was time, George was first to choose a career. James shuffled the career cards and held them out for George to choose one. Apparently, since George skipped “college,” he only got to pick one card. “Show me ‘superstar’,” George chanted. He chose a card from the stack and then turned it over. “Travel agent? Well fuck! This game is trying to mirror real life or some shit!” When he drew his salary, he cursed again (but more loudly and more profanely). He was stuck with $40,000.
Pote was next to choose a career. He drew “police officer,” much to his delight. “He he, you cabrones all gonna be paying me every time you spin a 10 now,” he crowed. He drew his salary and was locked in to earning $60,000.
“I love me some irony,” George cheered. “Pote, of all people, a cop .”
After a couple more spins, James was ready to choose his career. From the three cards he drew, he chose to keep the “doctor” profession, which surprised Teresa a little. She didn’t know if it was a game strategy or if there was something real behind it. She remembered the way he had easily splinted her leg when they went to blow up Epifanio’s tunnel and the way he had frequently provided what help he could when one of their men was shot or injured. James ended up with a whopping $90,000 salary, which made George and Pote groan and James grin smugly.
When it was Teresa’s turn, she drew three cards from James’s hand. Her options were teacher, accountant, and athlete. “Well I didn’t like running with James, so athlete is out,” she joked, returning the card to him. He huffed out a laugh. “I guess accountant fits me,” she surmised, handing the teacher card back to James.
“That means if we land on ‘taxes due’ we have to pay you,” George informed her. Next she drew a salary - a respectable $80,000. The boys assured her $100,000 was the highest possible salary, so she wasn’t feeling too bad about her chances.
The game continued a few rounds - each player spinning, moving their cars, paying or earning money according to the spaces they passed. They refilled their drinks, some faster than others. Eventually they all passed the “get married” slot and added a new peg to their vans. George had two blue pegs in his because he had fished around in the box with his eyes closed saying he wasn’t going to “discriminate.”
When it was time to buy a house, Teresa drew a modest country cottage. The picture showed the house with a cute white fence around the front yard and a stone chimney. Teresa thought it looked like a nice house, and the price was not bad for her imaginary salary. Pote was ecstatic when he drew a cheap “split level” home that was literally split in two by an earthquake (He said “I don’t care if my imaginary house is broken to bits as long as the price is right.”). George ended up with the “beach house” where the picture showed a large wave crashing toward the front of it and shingles flying off the roof. Teresa didn’t think it looked very nice, but George was cool with it. James was unimpressed when the house he drew was a large “Tudor” that cost a fair penny.
Pote and George, of course, started giving him grief. “Tufloors, tubaths, tucar garage. Perfect for tupeople with tukids or more,” George read from the caption on the card. “Giant Peach, a doctor living in a mansion with his wife and 2 kids! Who would have thought!”
“What a waste of money,” Pote chortled.
James rolled his eyes, but Teresa saw the amusement behind them.
After a couple more rounds, Teresa mostly had the hang of the game. Every time she passed the green “Pay Day” spot, Pote would pass her a salary. Sometimes one of them would land on a space with the “LIFE” symbol stamped on it, at which point they received a little tile usually with a money value on the back - like a bonus to cash in at the end. When James landed on the first “baby boy” space of the game, her eyes accidentally connected with his. She looked away quickly, trying to blink down the heat she could feel behind her cheeks.
George and Pote each ended up with a child peg of their own in each of their cars, and Teresa wound up having to add two, but James’s luck with the child spaces was unreal. The four spaces reserved for children in his minivan were already filled with pegs when he landed on “Adopt Twins!”
“Fuck,” he cursed, running a hand over his face while Pote and George both held their bellies in laughter. Teresa couldn’t help but laugh, too. She’d never imagined James with six kids, but now the image of him driving a minivan with six screaming children in the back had implanted itself into her brain.
“Better get another car, cabron!” Pote wheezed.
“Damn, baby Chapo, someone needs to teach you how to use a condom!” George snickered.
James flipped him off. “These ones are adopted , asshole.”
“The other four aren’t!” George cackled.
“Teresa, hand me another car,” James sulked. Teresa put a hand over her mouth to cover her own laughs and handed him an orange car. He added two new pegs into the back - two pink ones.
“Don’t you need an adult driving that one?” Teresa teased. He gave her a dirty look and then moved his “wife” peg to be the driver of his second car. Teresa was almost sent into a fit of giggles when he lined his two cars up one behind the other like a caravan.
“Imagine all those infant Chapos running around,” George joked. “For the sake of the world, I hope this game isn’t a premonition.” Teresa’s eyes wandered to James, and an image of a little boy with James’s brown eyes and dark hair, wearing a tiny leather jacket and a toothy smile, invaded her mind.
Pote grunted in agreement. “The world doesn’t need six mini Jameses. That’s a scary thought.”
For some reason, Teresa didn’t find the thought nearly as disturbing as Pote and George.
“Hey, fuck you guys,” James joked. “Leave my fictional kids alone.” He looked at his two tiny plastic minivans and rubbed his hand down his face. “Shit, that’s a lot of kids.”
They continued to play, and Teresa laughed more than she had in a long time. The brightly colored money was passed around, and the drinks were refilled again. Pote did a meticulous job of keeping the banking in order. She collected a fair amount of taxes from her family members, and they each bought a few “stocks” to be paid out when someone spun their specific number. George did especially well with stock income, much to Pote’s annoyance.
She almost spit out her drink when James landed on “College - pay $50,000 per child.” Pote and George had laughed so hard they had almost cried, and James had sworn and rested his head in his hands in defeat. Teresa swore she heard him grumbling, “This game is bullshit.”
As they approached the end of the game board, they chose their respective retirement homes. Pote and George chose Millionaire Estates - George said he refused to retire in anything but style - and James could only afford Countryside Acres after his children basically bankrupted him. Teresa decided to follow James to Countryside Acres. “You’ll need someone to keep you company in the nursing home,” she teased. George and Pote ribbed her about retiring to a dump, but James just offered her a soft smile and a nod of appreciation.
They made conversation and jokes as Pote totaled up the money. No one was surprised when James lost - the college tuition for his six kids had been a big blow - but when Pote announced it was between Teresa and George, Teresa wasn’t sure which of them would be victorious.
Pote rubbed his mustache as he recounted to be thorough, then cleared his throat. “By five thousand dollars, the winner is….la patrona.”
“No!” George agonized as Teresa cheered and pumped her fist in the air. “Did you rig it, Chewy? I know where your loyalty lies!”
Pote glared at George while James started gathering up the pieces to put back into the box. “I don’t answer stupid questions.”
Teresa smiled triumphantly. “That was fun.”
“Yeah, whatever. Beginner’s luck, principessa!” George swore before taking a long swig of his drink. He slosshed his cup back onto the table. “Ok, new game.”
“We just played a game,” James stated, an eyebrow raised. He folded up the game board and placed it in the box, then topped the box with its multicolored lid.
“ New game, ” George emphasized. “It’s called ‘Never Have I Ever.’ I say something I’ve never done, and if you’ve done it, you take a drink. If no one drinks because they’ve done said action, then I have to.”
“Something we’ve done that you haven’t?” James questioned. “Sure you’re not setting yourself up for failure?”
George narrowed his eyes at James. “Oh ho ho. The Ken doll has jokes. Ok, I’ll start. Never have I ever willingly turned myself in to the CIA.” George blinked at James, who frowned and flipped him off. George laughed. “Drink up!”
“I have one,” Teresa spoke up as James took a swig from his cup. “Never have I ever shaved my face.”
The three men groaned.
“That’s cheating, Teresita,” Pote glowered before downing some of his drink.
George echoed the sentiment. “Yeah, I don’t think you want to go down that line of questioning. It would be easy as pie for us to target you as the only girl here.”
“I can handle it,” Teresa teased.
“Never have I ever burned rice so badly the pot had to be thrown away,” Pote spoke up, eying her pointedly.
Teresa’s mouth fell open. Normally, she might have felt some slight embarrassment, but the warmth of the liquor was starting to ease its way through her veins. “You said you wouldn’t tell anyone that!”
Pote cocked his head and motioned for her to take a drink. Teresa glared at him and took another drink of the fiery liquid in her cup.
The group turned to James expectantly. It was his turn. He ran a hand over his jaw in thought before stating calmly. “Never have I ever been married.”
Pote glowered and took a drink, and Teresa was surprised when George did the same. When George saw her raised eyebrows, he laughed and shrugged. “All were short-lived. Pirates like me can’t be tied down too long.”
“ All ?” Teresa inquired. George just shrugged again with an impish grin.
“Never have I ever flown a plane.”
Teresa took a drink and then looked right back at George. “Never have I ever steered a ship.”
“ Touche ,” he laughed before gulping down another sip of his drink.
They went a few more rounds, and Teresa was starting to feel a familiar light-headed and light-hearted emotion. The feeling she always got when she drank enough - like the problems she’d faced in the past and present were no longer in sight. Like there was nothing more important or more fun than this moment. Through the course of the game, she learned a few interesting things about her familia. She learned Pote and James had once had dogs as pets, she learned George had reading glasses he never wore, and she learned James had once been arrested for driving before he was 16.
After a certain point, George got tired of always having to drink (he claimed it was unfair that he was losing simply because he’d had a wider range and overall better life experiences than them). He swiftly and easily transitioned the game to “Truth or Dare.” No one complained, likely because the amount of alcohol they had consumed by this point made them all much more compliant. Teresa had noticed about halfway through “Never Have I Ever” that her brain was starting to get a little fuzzy. She didn’t like the feeling of not being in control, so she had started faking her drinks - she preferred to sober up a little before bedtime.
She couldn’t be certain, but she was fairly sure James was doing the same. While Pote and George had started slurring words slightly and laughing a little overzealously at every little thing, James still had an alert air about him (Teresa saw his eyes snap to various doors and windows once or twice when he thought he heard a noise; it made her feel content that he was still looking out for them all. But then again, she always felt safe with him around - alcohol or not). She assumed he was trying not to overindulge because of what happened the last time (he had pointed a gun right at George’s face and demanded that the karaoke singing video be deleted from his phone), but Teresa liked the way that his smiles were coming more easily tonight.
She liked it when he smiled.
His smiles made her stomach feel like a flipped pancake.
“Truth or dare, Baby Chapo?” George asked loudly.
James raised an eyebrow. “Dare.”
“Ha!” George laughed. “I dare you to streak down the street!”
Pote choked on his drink and Teresa felt her eyes bulge.
James looked impassive. “I’m not doing that, you idiot. We don’t need the police called here again. ”
George pursed his lips. “Alright, fine. Then by default you have to answer a truth.” James nodded. “Have you ever been in love?”
James’s jaw twitched and he looked down briefly. “Yes,” he confirmed before taking a sip of his drink.
Teresa’s mind flashed to the strawberry-blonde woman she had met back in the beginning of her days with Camila. That must be who James was thinking of. Something burned in her chest as she imagined James loving that woman, missing that woman. She wasn’t sure she liked this game after all.
George laughed. “I knew it! Now you have to tell us about the lucky lady and where it all went wrong!”
“No,” James deadpanned.
“Enough, George,” Pote interjected seriously. Teresa glanced at him and saw him eyeing James strangely. There was something on Pote’s face Teresa didn’t see often. Pity? Maybe James and Pote had talked about this before? Of course there were things the guys would bond about that she wouldn’t be part of, but the burning in her chest intensified with the feeling of being left out of a secret.
“Truth or dare, Pote?” she questioned, attempting to extinguish the flames engulfing her with a distraction.
“Dare, always,” Pote confirmed, puffing his chest out.
Teresa racked her mind for something to make Pote do. “I dare you to do one of those Tik Tok dances we watched yesterday.”
Pote groaned and James and George looked on in delight. “You gonna pay for this, Teresita,” he swore darkly. Never one to back away from a dare, Pote followed through - waving and gesturing his arms wildly trying to match the synchronized moves of some of the young people in the viral dance videos they had watched in a fit of boredom yesterday. The group laughed hysterically at his effort, and he even chuckled a bit at himself. Once he finished, he downed the rest of his drink. He turned his eyes to Teresa. “Truth or dare?” he challenged her.
By the gleam in his eye, she could tell he wanted her to choose dare so he could get his revenge. “Truth,” she answered easily, a smile on her lips.
Pote smiled like a cat about to catch a mouse. “Tell everyone what happened to James’s Camaro after he left Phoenix.”
Teresa felt the blood drain from her face. “I meant ‘dare,’” she backtracked. James had kept a Camaro in the garage at his compound - he had told her it was too ostentatious to drive for day-to-day business, be he indulged himself with the car when he just wanted to go for a drive. It was one of the few personal items in the house that clearly brought him joy. He’d left it behind when he left them behind.
“What happened to my car?” James asked, his brow furrowed. She felt George and James looking at her, the former with an eerie sort of anticipation - like he could sense whatever this story was, he would be entertained.
“Can’t go back now, Teresita,” Pote crowed. “Gotta tell the truth.”
Teresa threw Pote a glare and then took a drink. “It got...damaged.”
“Damaged how ?” James demanded, his eyes narrowing.
The truth was, right after he left, it had hit her a little harder than she had expected. She kept thinking she saw him out of the corner of her eye, she kept imagining her phone ringing and then would pick it up and see no one had called. She wasn’t sleeping well. She had missed him. And the Camaro he left behind...it had smelled like him. So she’d gone for a drive every now and then, just to clear her head.
Teresa met James’s eyes, determined not to reveal the whole, embarrassing truth. “It was rear-ended,” she answered evenly.
James didn’t miss a beat. “Why was it even out of the garage?” James was well aware that he had left behind multiple other cars - cars that Teresa and Pote had claimed as ‘theirs’ upon arrival.
Teresa looked at him stubbornly. “I wanted to go for a drive.” She didn’t mention the part about how that particular night she had driven for hours on the back roads around Phoenix. She also omitted that when she got tired, she hadn’t wanted to go home (the compound had been feeling empty lately, and the car felt safe. Comfortable. Familiar.). She avoided saying that she pulled over and climbed into the back to take a nap, and woke up to the screeching of tires, crunching of glass, and thump of her own body being thrown against the back of the front seats.
She very purposely didn’t tell him how the driver of the other car sped off, how she’d called Pote who had rushed to get her, and how she’d let herself cry for the first (and only) time when Pote got there and gave her that look .
They’d never talked about it.
James looked at her in disbelief. “You wanted to go for a drive…” he echoed.
“Yes.” She didn’t meet his eyes. She knew him well enough to know he could probably tell she was leaving out some important details, but she knew if she looked at him right now her eyes would likely tell the story for her. Instead, she turned to give a hard look at Traitorous Pote, who held up his drink as if to salute her. He wore a smirk.
“Why did I think that story would be more fun?” George complained. “Pote, you need to up your truth game. I’ll show you how it’s done. Giant Peach - truth or dare?”
James tore his eyes away from Teresa, who he was still studying, and glanced at George. “Dare.”
George grinned. “Spin that beer bottle -” George pointed at an empty beer bottle at the end of the coffee table “-and kiss whoever it lands on.”
“What is this, middle school?” James complained.
James sighed and reached for the bottle. He set it down on its side. Teresa felt her heart speeding up. If it landed on her, would he kiss her? Would she want him to? Was her heart pounding in her ears in anticipation or dread? James spun the bottle, which clanged against the table as it rotated. It slowed to a stop, the nose pointing at Pote.
Pote shifted immediately to rest a hand on his gun. “Don’t even think about it, cabrón.”
James shrugged, a triumphant look on his face, and then turned back to George with a raised eyebrow. “I guess that was a bust. Truth or dare, George?”
“No!” George protested. “Since Pote won’t follow the rules, I designate you to kiss Teresa instead!”
The pounding in her ears intensified. She pulled the neckline of her shirt to the side slightly. Was it hot in here?
“That’s not how the game works,” James asserted.
“I started the game. I make the rules,” George argued back.
“No one calls you ‘king’ here,” Pote drawled.
George crossed his arms. “Ya’ll are a bunch of buzzkills. If you won’t do it, Peach, then whatever. I think we all know why.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“George,” Pote warned, his cup halfway to his lips. “Give it a rest.”
Teresa took a sip of her drink, trying very hard to just ignore the argument going on. On some level she knew she should interject - after all, she was the one he was being dared to kiss - but what to say? That she didn’t want to kiss him might be a lie. Saying that she wanted to kiss him was also out of the question. Silence was the only viable option, so she sipped her drink and revelled in the warmth of avoidance.
“James and Teresa, sitting in a tree…” George started singing, drawing hearts in the air in a mocking way towards James. Teresa almost spit out her drink. James even looked flustered.
“George!” Teresa scolded. Pote yelled something in Spanish at George as well, which sent an inebriated George into laughter.
“Damn, you all are easy to mess with!” George wheezed. “I love this game!”
James’s eyes looked to the ceiling like he was trying to maintain patience and not commit a murder. Teresa understood the sentiment.
“Ok, no more truths or dares about kissing,” Teresa stated, shooting a look at George who laughed again, an impish grin on his face. “George, truth or dare?”
“Dare, baby!”
“I dare you to eat a chili pepper with chocolate sauce on it.”
George’s eyebrows rose. “That’s all you got? Bring it on!” George hopped up from his seat and made his way to the refrigerator. He made a show of rooting through the fridge.
Pote’s phone rang just as George was lathering chocolate syrup all over the red chili pepper. “It’s Kelly Anne,” Pote stated. Pote and Kelly Anne had a nightly FaceTime ritual. Pote usually went to his room to take the call, and rarely came back out until the morning. As expected, he grabbed his phone (and his newly refilled cup), and stood up. “I’ll talk to you cabrones tomorrow.”
“Goodnight Pote,” Teresa called after him as he ambled down the short hallway to his room. “Tell Kelly Anne we said hi.”
“Tell her to stop calling when we’re in the middle of a game!” George yelled from the kitchen. Pote ignored George and shut his door. “Pote’s new name is Whipped Cream,” George grumped, bringing his chili concoction back to the coffee table. “Alright, you ready for this?”
“That’s disgusting,” James observed, noting the chocolate syrup dripping off the deep red pepper.
“Go on,” Teresa urged with a smirk.
George gave her a smug look and lifted the pepper to his mouth. He crunched into it and started chewing while Teresa and James watched with interest. A few seconds later, George’s smug face changed to a frown as he continued to chew. After a few more seconds, the frown changed to a grimace and his eyes started to water.
“You have to swallow it!” Teresa urged, fighting laughter.
George swallowed and then reached desperately for his cup, downing the whole thing. James laughed loudly while George wiped at his eyes. “That was mean, T-rex.”
James turned to Teresa. “Remind me not to get on your bad side,” he joked.
They played a few more rounds, mostly choosing dares, and completing actions that were more and more bizarre. Teresa wasn’t drunk, but she also wasn’t sober, so the warm giddiness from her drink definitely helped her complete some of her dares (like when James dared her to talk with a British accent for the next three rounds - she thought she managed quite well, if she was being honest). George had dared James to act like a cat for ten minutes, and Teresa wished she could have recorded James’s first sulky “meow.”
“You make a cute cat,” she had encouraged him, reaching out to ruffle his hair.
He had “meowed” flatly in response, which made her laugh again.
When the clock reached 11:00 PM, George stretched his arms out. “I think I’ve got one more question in me, then I need to retire to my room to get started on my bedtime story. So principessa, last one: truth or dare?”
Teresa, relaxed and content from a much-needed evening of laughing, answered without hesitating. “Dare.”
George’s eyes glinted with mischief. “It’s the last one, so give me and Rico Suave here each a goodnight kiss.”
Teresa pursed her lips. “We said - ”
“Rules don’t apply to the last question!” George asserted.
James said hesitantly, “Teresa, you don’t have to - ”
Teresa met George’s eyes, defiant. “Fine.”
James’s eyes widened, and George hollered out a triumphant laugh. George seemed to get a kick out of watching James and her squirm. Teresa wasn’t sure how much George knew about their history, but George wasn’t an idiot. She felt certain that every time he dared them something like this or asked a romantic “truth” question, it was the equivalent of poking them with a stick for amusement. But if George wanted to mess with her, he was going to have to be smarter.
A smirk snuck onto her lips as she scooted closer to George. “Ready?”
“You know it,” George joked, exaggerating closing his eyes and puckering his lips.
Teresa smiled and leaned in … and pecked his cheek with her lips. As soon as George felt the contact, he frowned. Teresa pulled away, stifling a laugh.
“Not cool,” George whined. “The ‘T’ in your name obviously stands for ‘Tease.’”
She edged toward James, who held an unreadable look in his eyes. She reached out to put a hand against his jaw, just as she’d done a few days ago, and pulled his face closer to hers. His eyes fluttered closed at the same time as hers, and her lips connected softly with the side of his face. His skin was warm and soft, and the stubble of his jaw scratched pleasantly against her lower lip. The warm, familiar smell of his aftershave mixed with alcohol and a hint of smoke invaded her senses as she inhaled and pulled away. Her eyes opened and connected with his.
There was a heat in his eyes that she was sure was reflected in hers.
Whether it was the alcohol, the game, or something else, she didn’t know. But suddenly, the urge to kiss more than his cheek was overpowering. She felt a desperate tug in her gut - to pull his face to hers, to smash her nose against his, to devour his lips with her own, to breathe the same air he was breathing. His expression, intense and dangerous, matched her own. His eyes flickered to her lips and then back up to meet her gaze.
George whistled - a bucket of cool water dousing her brain and her veins. Teresa blinked and backed away from James, who turned a glare toward George. “Damn. you guys are so transparent,” George guffawed. “I think that’s my cue to get to my room. My work here is done. Be safe, kids!”
George lifted himself from his seat and started backing toward the hallway. James flipped him off, which made George laugh harder.
“Typical. Leaving us to clean up,” James murmured when George shut his bedroom door.
Teresa helped James start to gather up the empty SOLO cups and bottles of alcohol. She watched him move smoothly into the kitchen and gather up some empty bottles from the countertop. She followed him and dropped the cups she was holding into the trash can. She studied him while he worked - the dexterity of his long fingers as he wrapped them around the tops of empty beer bottles, the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, the hard set of his jaw.
Why was she fighting this? Why had she been fighting this?
All the reasons she had tried so hard to stay away from reigniting the romantic relationship between them fled from her consciousness.
She missed him.
She wanted to feel his arms wrapped around her. She wanted his lips against her skin. She wanted his eyes piercing hers.
She wanted him . Not just his friendship. Not just his loyalty. She knew she had both. She wanted more. More had almost destroyed her before, but maybe it was worth it? Maybe it would be worth it? Maybe she couldn’t fight it anymore. Maybe she was too tired to deny it.
Maybe this quarantine had finally driven her crazy.
Or maybe it had just made her face the inevitable.
“James,” she whispered.
She watched him freeze and turn his head to her. Something in the air changed. Thickened. She swallowed. “It would have been ok. If you kissed me. During the game.”
James looked like a statue, paralyzed, the only noticeable change in him the way his eyes darkened a shade. He was looking at her like a dying man looking at water. His look was suffocating her. His look was invigorating her.
She watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed and he dragged a slow hand over his face. He looked back at her. “I didn’t want -” He glanced away and his jaw twitched in frustration. Teresa lost her breath and felt a hammer drop into her gut. He didn’t want… He looked back at her. “I didn’t want to take that choice away from you,” he concluded, his voice low and rough.
The fire in her veins ignited again, a raging inferno she stood no chance of extinguishing.
This selfless man.
As if connected to him by a tether that had been pulled taught, Teresa took the few steps toward him until she was right in front of him, and swiftly pulled his face down to hers.
The impact was immediate, and the rush of his lips against hers took her breath away. He responded instantly - his lips parting and capturing her own. One of his hands rested on her back, pulling her flush against him, and the other cupped the side of her face with a reverence she’d only ever felt when she was with him. She kissed him - lips moving in a frantic rhythm and tongues dancing against one another - as if she’d never stopped. He kissed her like he thought this was a dream and was afraid of waking up. The heat of his breath against her skin made her shiver as she snaked a hand under the hem of his plain navy t-shirt to rest against the smooth, hot skin of his abdomen.
His breath hitched and he pulled his mouth from hers. His forehead came to rest against hers, his eyes closing so his eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks. “Teresa,” he whispered.
She was breathing heavily, watching him as he breathed mere inches from her. “Don’t sleep on the couch anymore,” she whispered back.
His eyes snapped open, dark and searching. He knew what she was saying. Asking. “Are you sure?”
She bit her lip to keep from grinning and nodded. He stared at her bottom lip, caught between her teeth, like it was a steak from a five star restaurant. Her skin sparked as he inched his thumb forward to press against her lip, freeing it. He leaned down to capture her bottom lip between his own lips, and she gasped against him. The hand beneath his shirt wound its way to rake over his back while her free hand climbed up to weave its way through the thick, dark hair on the back of his head.
The fuzziness in her brain from the alcohol earlier was nothing compared to the mental obscurity his kisses induced. She could think of nothing but his lips. His hands. His skin. His tongue. He was the most powerful drug she’d ever come in contact with..
She yanked her mouth from his to catch a breath, and he moved his kisses down the side of her jaw and to her neck. Her mouth fell open and her eyelids quivered at the sweet sensation of his soft lips and rough beard mingling against her skin.
She tugged at his shirt.
“Not here,” she gasped, her voice barely audible.
He paused and nodded against her neck. Before her brain could catch up, she yelped in surprise when he lifted her up into his arms. Her legs wound automatically around his waist and her arms threaded behind his neck. He kissed her again, and she kissed him back. A desperation she hadn’t felt in a long time drowned her as he moved out of the kitchen and down the hall - one hand supporting her and the other searching along the wall so he could keep his eyes and lips on her.
When her back hit the door to her closet-size bedroom, she broke away from his kiss and smiled at him. She felt light in a way she hadn’t in months. He reached his free hand up and smoothed a few strands of her curly hair away from her face. There was an affection in his eyes that took her breath away.
“Truth or dare?” she whispered, her fingertips grazing over the side of his jaw where his stubble transitioned to smooth skin.
His eyes burned. “Truth.”
She held his gaze and whispered again. “What are you thinking?”
He hesitated, staring at her. He looked like he was trying to memorize what he was seeing. When he spoke, his voice was gravelly. “That I missed you.”
A swell of emotion overcame her, and she wasn’t sure whether she was closer to laughing or crying. She leaned forward and left a soft kiss against the corner of his lips. He rested his forehead against hers. “I missed you too,” she answered, her voice low.
He connected his eyes to hers and smiled. She smiled back.
“I should warn you, Pote sleeps next door,” she whispered.
James grimaced. “Please don’t talk about Pote right now.”
She silenced her own laugh by kissing him again. He walked them into the bedroom and shut the door.