They were sitting on the black, speckled counter. Something her dad had forever banned her from doing. They sat across from each other, with only their knees touching. Between them was a bottle of Vodka, another thing that her father had banned her from. She threw her head back and laughed as he picked the bottle and took a swig. They had been playing a twisted version of truth or dare for the last hour. It was ridiculous and yet, somehow more fun than cuddling. The object was to answer the question truthfully or take a drink.

"All righ'," the boy said wincing as the alchohol burned its way down his throat. "Your turn. How long have your parents been divorced?" The girl sighed, good, another easy one.

"About five years," she said brushing a lock of dark brown hair out of her face. The questions had been relatively safe, nothing too difficult to answer, and if she didn't feel like answering she could just take a drink. "Where'd you get the scar on your arm? The one that curves." She reached forward to point it out and then let her arm drop. A smile broke out across the boy's face. He loved to talk about his scars and she knew it.

"This one?" the boy barely glanced down at it. "My brother and my brother were racing on our bikes to the store. There was a can in the road, next thing I know I'm on the ground with my arm cut and bleeding." He raised an eyebrow at her and her stomach sunk. "What d'you think of my brother?"

"He's funny and nice," she shrugged. "He's never mean to us when we're hanging at your place. He's cool." That was the truth. And he was a good kisser. Ok, mostly the truth. "What's the craziest thing you have ever eaten?" She glanced up when she felt his gaze. His smile had faded and was now replaced with a slight frown. "What?" The boy shook his head.

"Nada," he said. "Umm, craziest thing… how does escargot sound? Ok, how about you? Craziest thing you've eaten?" The girl laughed, shook her head, and took a sip of vodka.

"You gotta tell me," the boy said. "Please. This is too funny to miss." The girl rolled her eyes at him and smiled.

"My best friend and I were cooking soft pretzels one day," she said. "And we decided to cook lemon juice, lime juice, and orange rinds into it. It was… interesting." She tapped her chin in thought, trying to come up with a good question. "What's the meanest thing you've ever done to your sister?" The boy smirked at this question.

"It was at her twelfth birthday party," he began. "She had a bunch of her twelve year old friends over for a sleepover. Annoying little things. Dad set up a tent for them in the back yard. When it got dark I convinced them to let me tell them scary stories. While I told the story, I had my brother sneak around the back of the tent and yell 'boo'. They were terrified. And that is the meanest thing I've ever done to her." He slid his hand over to rest on top of hers. "Ki?"

The tone of his voice and his hand on top of hers made the girl look up. There was something in his eyes, an emotion that she couldn't quite make out. "Hmmm?"

"Do you love me?"

Her mouth fell open with surprise. He was a great boyfriend, her mother made that very clear. Even her friends kept telling her how lucky she was. But, she thought back to the two years she'd spent with him. He always seemed to make her go to parties she didn't like, he ordered food for her at restaurants. And then there was the fact that he always felt the need to be touching her. Even now their knees were touching and his hand lay on top of hers. In one fluid motion she scooted away, slid her hand out from under his and picked up the bottle. The vodka burned as it made it's way down her throat.