Beth watched, on edge as Caleb picked another screwed up bit of paper from the shoebox. He unraveled it slowly, perhaps anxiously considering the last time he’d unwittingly chosen torture and sat there now with a butt plug still inside of him thanks to it. But Caleb never did show emotional truths honestly, he could put on a front too easily and almost always did. Unlike her, who was too open, even when she tried to pretend otherwise.
He exhaled fast as he read the scrap of paper. “Truth.” He held it out to prove it.
“Lucky. Go on then, Beth,” Jack said, because it was still her turn to think up the challenge.
It was going to have to be good, whatever she came up with. This game had never really been innocent, it’d begun with intent from all three of them. But it had moved into uncharted territory now.
She looked across at Caleb, who waited silently for his questioning. His eyes obscure, expression hard to read. She couldn’t tell if he were anticipating it with dread, or eagerness.
“Were you turned on listening to Jack’s call?” she said, quite suddenly.
He jerked back, almost unsettled. Good. She’d hit the mark. Chosen the right question: the one he most did not want to answer.
Jack laughed, throwing his head back and leaning on his arms by the fire. He hadn’t expected her question either. For Caleb, with his self-declared baggage, it was a sharpened point to poke him...