Tiny Tim полностью

So, I told them that I would join them in a minute, made my way to the bathroom, and emptied the beer bottle into the toilet. I rinsed it out a few times before I refilled it with water. I was only inclined to believe him, after all. And, strictly speaking, I was on the clock. If Mia told me to drive anyone home, and Bill found out I couldn’t because I had been drinking, I could kiss my job goodbye. If there had been something in that beer, I would be seeing some expectant and appraising looks as I sipped away at the bottle.

I got those looks, albeit not in the way I had feared. As I entered the entertainment room, everyone else had already seated themselves in a kind of big circle and started a game of Truth of Dare.

“Tim!” Jack called out upon noticing me. “Just in time! Truth or Dare?”

“Uh ... do I have to?” I wasn’t particularly happy with either option.

“Don’t be a downer, Dude! Truth or Dare!”

“Fine.” I sighed and seated myself next to Mia on the sofa. “If I choose Dare, I kinda suspect you’ll get me drunk. So ... Truth, I guess?” I prayed he wouldn’t ask anything too personal.

“How many girls have you slept with?” he grinned. So much to my delusional prayer.

“Does it count when I only ate her out?” I asked, and noticed the first set of peculiar looks, though they were from the females in the room exclusively, and not necessarily directed at me but at each other. Jack snorted a short laugh while shaking his head. “Then, One.”

As expected, the guys in the room exchanged sneering looks. Totally unexpected, however, were the completely unfazed looks on the girls’ faces when they heard about my inexperience.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Mia hurriedly injected, while grinning at me madly. “How many WOMEN have you slept with?”

“I already answered a question.” I smirked upon remembering the conversation Mia and I had in my car.

“Wait, what!?” some random redheaded girl I never bothered to learn the name of asked with an actually confused look.

“He thinks there’s a difference.” Mia explained, still grinning.

“Alright, next question!” One of the guys, who was a senior at our high school, called out. I assumed it was my turn now, so I was trying to figure out what I should ask, but he simply continued talking! “How does it feel to get stabbed?”

“Come again!?” The redhead’s boyfriend joined the conversation, so the guy who asked me the question pulled out his phone, while the redhead told her boyfriend what she had heard about my parking lot escapades.

The senior-guy apparently found what he had been looking for on his phone, and held it out to the redhead’s boyfriend. I recognized what it showed. And then I recognized the senior. That was the guy who took the photo of me when I went to the pizzeria after being released from the hospital! The whole situation grew increasingly uncomfortable for me.

“Holy Fuck!” the redhead’s boyfriend called out. “They fucked you up, man!”

“Yes, they did.” I commented reluctantly. “Shouldn’t I get a turn to ask you a question now?”

“No.” Jack informed me while laughing. “We already know each other. You’re the new guy here, so you have to answer more questions.”

“Fine.” I groaned. “To answer your question then; getting stabbed hurts. Don’t know how to go into details there.”

“Would you describe it as a stabbing pain?” the redhead joked, and most people found it funny. I wasn’t one of them. This whole thing started to feel like they were making fun of me again. Interestingly, Mia wasn’t too pleased either. She actually looked quite pissed about what her friend just said.

“Okay, now wait a minute!” the redhead’s boyfriend followed up in an irritated voice. He was one of those who displayed their disapproval about my presence at this party. “Last time I saw you, you were still Logan’s fat little geek-brother. Now you’re hanging out with the Cheerleaders! The fuck happened with you!?”

I had originally planned to stay non-confrontational. After all, this was a client’s house. The way this guy was talking, however, caused that resolution to waver considerably.

“I improved myself.” I shrugged my shoulders. It was not lost on him how my tone suggested he did not improve.

“A little overly self confident, don’t you think?”

“You think? I lost nearly forty pounds and got in shape. I make roughly forty grand a year while still going to high school, and I live in my own apartment now. Meanwhile, you are ... still good at playing with balls, I believe.” I had to smirk when I heard the others chuckle. “Of course, maybe you’ll prove me wrong, make your way into the NFL, and someday become famous. But until then, what did you do to be proud of? What exactly sets you apart from all the other former team members in this room?”

My smirk widened when I saw him glance around the room, hoping his friends would help him out. I could literally see his need to assert himself over me as he searched for anything he could use to debunk my claim and put me down again.