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"Never have I ever fallen asleep during class."
Anya sighed and took a sip. She should’ve known the boys would aim straight for her. After 10 years of friendship, she’d learned that any activity eventually turned into a battle. Sometimes it was Anya and Becky versus Damian, Emile and Ewen. Other times, it was every man for himself.
Who would get the best grades? (Damian)
Who was the undisputed chess champion? (Becky)
Who could swim the farthest without stopping? (Ewen)
Who could fit the most peanuts in their mouth? (Emile)
Who could speak the most languages? (Anya)
And most recently: Who could drink the most without passing out? (Still to be determined.)
Tonight Becky didn’t seem interested in teaming up. In fact, she looked a little too eager to make Anya drink. Luckily, Anya’s cup was secretly filled with water. If her dad ever found out she’d been drinking underage, she’d be grounded until she turned forty. And he would find out. He always found out.
Anya’s eyes flicked up when she noticed Damian also lifting his glass. He had also fallen asleep during classes before, but not for the same reason as her. On the rare occasion it had happened, it was because he had stayed up too late to study.
Emile caught it instantly.
“Ewen, you’re making Damian drink too! Focus!” he complained.
Becky burst into laughter, nearly spilling her wine.
The five of them were tucked away in a guest room at Connie’s. Connie — a Cecile Hall student they’d met their first year at Eden — was throwing her eighteenth birthday party, and half their classmates were crammed into the main hall downstairs. Meanwhile, Anya and her group had done what they always did at parties: slip away to find a quiet corner where they could avoid everyone.
Sometimes Bill, George, or Meg joined in. But most of the time, it was just the five of them. Anya suspected it had started as a way to keep her comfortable, since she didn’t do well in big crowds.
Now, they sat cross-legged in a circle on the carpet, cups in front of them. The boys had filled theirs with red wine. Becky had white wine in hers. And Anya was supposed to be drinking white wine too.
She nudged her glass aside with her fingertips and turned toward Emile.
“Your turn.”
Emile leaned back on his hands, chewing thoughtfully on a peanut as if he were debating the fate of nations instead of taking part in a drinking game.
“Hmm… Never have I ever saved a life.”
Anya froze. Her eyes snapped to him, narrowing. Seriously? That’s what he went with?
With a dark glare at Emile, she raised her cup and took a sip. He, of course, grinned like he’d been waiting for this moment all night.
Everyone knew what he meant. Back in first grade, Anya had pulled Ken from danger and earned her very first Stella star.
“Hey! Desmond should drink too!” Becky piped up suddenly, eyes gleaming with mischief. When the boys blinked at her, she added, “Don’t tell me you all forgot? First grade, the bus incident? He literally saved our lives.”
Damian stiffened, his cup hovering halfway to his lips.
“…Fine.” He took a measured sip. Then he jabbed a finger at Becky. “But you drink too, Blackbell. You helped just as much as I did.”
“Fair enough,” she said sweetly, clinking her cup against his before taking a sip.
Now all eyes turned to her. It was her turn. Anya tapped her finger against her cup, thinking hard. She needed something that would hit all of them. Her gaze flicked toward Damian, then back to her drink, and a smirk tugged at her lips.
“Never have I ever lived in a mansion.”
Predictably, the four of them groaned and raised their cups in unison. Anya stuck her tongue out at Ewen when he rolled his eyes.
Anya turned to Becky. Her best friend adjusted the hem of the little black dress she was wearing. Gold polish gleamed on Becky’s nails, perfectly matching Anya’s own.
I need to make sure I’m not too obvious , Becky thought smugly.
Anya rolled her eyes. Becky was probably going to come up with something utterly embarrassing for both herself and Damian Desmond. She was relentless, repeating almost everyday they should date.
“Never have I ever lied to my best friend about not having a crush on someone I actually had a crush on,” Becky declared.
Oh .
Anya nearly choked. That was Becky’s definition of not obvious? She’d dragged them into this game for this exact moment, Anya was sure of it. Insufferable. Absolutely insufferable.
She glued her eyes to her cup, refusing to so much as glance at the brown-haired boy across from her. With a jerky movement, she raised her glass and took a quick sip, wishing she could disappear.
She wasn’t planning to check if anyone else drank but the surface thoughts in Damian’s head were impossible to ignore.
Don’t look at Anya.
Why did I drink?
They’re all staring.
Why is Emile laughing—ugh.
Before anyone could open their big mouth, Damian cleared his throat and took his turn.
“Never have I ever cheated on a test.”
Anya took a sip. Becky too. And—
“Ewen!” Anya gasped, eyes wide as the blond boy raised his glass. “You’ve cheated on a test before?”
Ewen only shrugged, lips twitching. “Well, you and Becky did too, so no comment.”
“I only did it because Anya’s a bad influence on me,” Becky added, placing a hand over her heart.
Anya huffed, crossing her arms. She did not have a bad influence!
Ewen leaned forward, smirking. “Never have I ever thought a cartoon character was hot.”
Anya and Becky locked eyes. The grin spread across their faces at the exact same time, perfectly mirrored. In one synchronized move, they raised their glasses and drank.
Damian groaned, crossing his arms. “Dumbasses,” he muttered.
“Jealous, Desmond?” Becky teased.
“Not even in your wildest dream,” he snapped back.
It was Ewen’s turn. He sat frowning at his cup, brows twitching like he was solving a math problem. Anya suppressed a smile; they were all taking this game way too seriously.
“Never have I ever snooped through someone’s stuff,” he finally said.
Anya sighed and raised her glass. One sip. Then she glanced around. No one else moved. Not even Becky. Well, she was the daughter of a spy, maybe that helped.
“I’m not surprised,” Becky teased with a wicked grin. I hope it was through Damian’s stuff.
Anya’s nose wrinkled. Okay, she may have peeked through Damian’s things once. Or twice. For research purposes only. Research on… well. On him. But she’d never ever admit it to anyone, and especially not to Becky Blackbell.
She turned to Emile. Without missing a beat he declared, “Never have I ever tried to fit an entire sandwich in my mouth at once.”
Anya snorted as Ewen groaned and took a sip. She remembered that cafeteria fiasco—the way half the table thought he was about to suffocate, and their history teacher nearly gave him a Tonitrus Bolt on the spot.
It was her turn again. Her eyes slid mischievously toward Damian. Her grin widened.
“Never have I ever freaked out and cried because I found a worm on my bedside table.”
The effect was instant. Damian let out a guttural growl, and Becky fell over giggling. He whipped his head toward Emile and Ewen, eyes blazing.
“You told her? I thought we were friends!” he barked.
The boys tried—badly—to look guilty, but both were snorting into their hands. With the sulkiest glare imaginable, Damian knocked back a sip and turned to Anya.
“It was ages ago. I was like eight.”
“Sure you were, Sy-on Boy,” Anya said sweetly. She knew perfectly well he’d been eleven.
Becky perked up immediately. “My turn! Never have I ever placed a worm on my best friend’s bedside table.”
Anya and Damian both burst into laughter.
“Finally,” Damian groaned, clutching his chest. “Now I’ll know who’s my best friend and who’s dead to me.”
Emile and Ewen exchanged one long, silent look. Then, as if synchronized, they each raised their glasses and drank.
Damian collapsed backward with a dramatic sigh. “Oh god. I have no real friends.”
“Aww, Dami,” Becky cooed, batting her lashes, “Anya can be your best friend. I’m sure she’d even agree to share your bed every night. You know, just to keep the worms away.”
“Becky!” Anya sputtered, her face exploding with heat.
She rolled her eyes, but not before noticing Damian’s blush returning full force. Becky only ever called him Dami when she wanted to get under his skin.
“What? I meant as a friend,” Becky said innocently.
“Shut up, Blackbell,” Damian muttered through clenched teeth.
Becky was still laughing when the door creaked open. They all turned to look who had come in.
George Glooman leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed.
“Guys, school starts in two days. Our last year. Maybe you should come down and grace the rest of us with your presence.”
His tone was pure teasing, but there was an edge of truth to it.
“Are they serving cake yet?” Emile asked immediately.
George narrowed his eyes. “Maybe you could at least pretend you didn’t only come to this party for cake. Or to hang out with the exact same four people you’ve spent your entire summer with.”
Fair point. They’d seen each other almost every day this summer.
Becky pushed herself to her feet with a dramatic sigh, Emile and Ewen trailing after.
“Relax, George, we’re coming.”
Anya stood too, smoothing her skirt. George’s reminder sat heavy in her chest. Their last year. It felt like a warning, like a countdown she wasn’t ready for.
For the first time since she’d joined Eden, Anya arrived early.
A good way to start her last year, her dad had said.
But the truth was: she had a meeting.
She made her way to their secret spot — a small, secluded garden tucked between the trees. He wasn’t there yet. She sat on the little white bench, closed her eyes, and let the breeze brush her face. The air smelled faintly of flowers, fresh and sweet.
She heard his thoughts before she heard his footsteps. Still, she didn’t open her eyes. She felt the brush of his arm as he sat beside her. His familiar cologne reached her, and she smiled.
“I missed you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her cheek.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she beamed. “I missed you too.”
His arm slipped around her shoulders, and she leaned into him, letting her eyes fall shut again.
“I think…” she whispered, “I’m ready to tell my parents about us. And our friends, too.”
She couldn’t see his face, but she didn’t need to. She knew him too well. She could picture the way he was smiling right now — the exact way the corners of his mouth lifted, the softness in his eyes.
Then, he shifted. She felt the tension in his body.
“Becky is going to be insufferable,” he groaned.
Anya chuckled. “Isn’t she already?”
He laughed softly and began twirling a strand of her hair between his fingers. “True. I’m convinced she made us play that stupid game just to mess with us.”
“You’re right.” She tilted her head. “By the way, how did you even manage to fill my cup with water without her noticing?”
A sly smile tugged at his mouth. “I have my ways, Miss Forger. You’re too young to drink, and Pops would know if you did. He’d kill us all.”
He shivered at the thought, and she laughed, imagining exactly how terrifying her father must seem to him.
The bell rang.
“Oh no. We already have to go.” She sighed, standing reluctantly.
He rose with her. Just as she started to walk away, his hand caught hers. “Wait.”
She stopped. He stepped closer, cupping her face in both hands, searching her eyes for permission. Her heart skipped, and she leaned in. His lips met hers in a soft kiss.
Every time they kissed, their thoughts tangled—messy, unfiltered, loud. But through the chaos, she heard a glimpse of what was happening in his head.
Never have I ever loved anyone but you.