"Okay, Ayla. Truth or dare," Dante asked before chugging his beer down the windpipe.
I snagged another beer bottle from the side table, Elio's possessive hand on my hip as I sat on his lap.
Normally, I'd be slapping Elio's hand away and storm out from the embarrassing display of affection, but now that we were out in the open to all his friends, I never want Elio's touches away from me.
The past few days of the new year were heavy on us. I wanted Elio to have a sense of normalcy again after last week's outburst. Even if that meant playing a role on this predestined childish game of a stereotypical American teen house party on a suburban weekend.
We don't talk about that night much, but I always made sure Elio knows I was there for him, not the other way around.
So when he casually men
