Malik popped open the bottle with a crack and a hiss, then took a quick sip straight from it, unfazed. The burn hit his chest and he exhaled like it punched the air out of him in the best way.
“Great,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “So here’s how it works.”
He set the bottle down, leaned forward on his elbows, Isaac was already grinning, that lopsided smile that said, ‘this was going to be stupid, but fun’. Malik looked between the two girls. “This game’s dumb as hell,” he said, like it was a warning. ““But it’s our dumb.”
He opened his mouth to explain more, then paused. Thought better of it. Instead, he stood up and disappeared into the kitchen, footsteps echoing faintly on the tile. When he returned, he held up a giant, over-the-top novelty cup—the kind you’d win at a state fair or get from a gas station if you asked for ‘the biggest you’ve got.’ Blue plastic, cracked at the bottom, faded writing that once said Thunder Slam or something equally ridiculous.
Isaac immediately started a slow drumroll on the table with both palms.
““Thank you, thank you,” Malik said with a dramatic bow, like he’d just won an Oscar. ““Okay, ladies, the game we’re going to play is called Tempest. Our beautiful trash.”
Isaac eyes twinkled in amusement, “Tell them about the Cup.”
Malik held it up like it was a sacred relic.“ “This… is the Cup. And the Cup is God.”
Keir stiffened, she didn’t know whether she liked the idea of comparing a cup to God very much, it left a bitter taste in her lips, but she said nothing. She looked at Isaac, wondering if he would say something, but he didn’t, instead he had simple laughed and shook his head, and Keir frowned. Oh, she supposed she was doing too much, still, she bit the inside of her cheek. She really did not know if she wanted to play this game, but she said nothing. Isaac wanted to play, Malik did too and Camilla said it was fine, she had to play too.
““Before we start,” Malik went on, eyes a little too bright now, “everyone has to add something to it. Sprite, orange juice, rum, Gatorade, literal gummy bears—whatever. You get one contribution per round. Doesn’t have to make sense. It just has to be nasty.” With that, Isaac had popped open one of Malik’s dad jack and poured it inside the cup, followed by Malik pouring in fanta. He passed it to Keir with a grin. ““You’re up, rookie”
Keir raised her brow, “So this is what brain damage tastes like.” She wrinkled her nose, as she added chips to the cup, not knowing what to add.
Malik arched a brow at her, “What!” She flushed, he chuckled, “Nothing, churchie.” he told her before turning to Camilla, . “Go on rojita.” he told the fire-truck, “Put something.” His tone amused, for he expected her to add perhaps gummy worms or milk or try to make it less disgusting or perhaps she would make it more disgusting.
She was quite weird after all, but amusing, in the way that he would put her in a jar, like something interesting he found in the woods. Not quite a butterfly, not quite a bug. Something with wings and teeth. He wouldn’t expect a girl like her to be a cheerleader nor date Isaac, but alas, it occurred.
After she was done putting her things inside the drink, Isaac declared, “The cup is born.”
Malik leaned back, bottle in hand, one leg kicked up on an empty patio chair. “Alright. Rules.”
“Would You Rather or Truth or Dare. Your choice. You ask the person to your left. They have to answer, no copping out. If they stall? Drink. If they refuse? Big drink—from the Cup. And if they lie?” He raised his brows. “We vote. Lying is a sin.”
Keir flinched slightly at sin, but swallowed it.
“Whoever has the best question or answer? They win the round and get to put more crap in the Cup. Add whatever. We once had someone drop in ketchup and half a Fruit Roll-Up.”
Keir’s stomach turned.
Malik grinned. “Game ends when the Cup is empty or someone taps out. That’s how you lose, by the way. If you puke, cry, or ghost before the last round—you lose. Simple.”
Then, finally, he looked straight at Camilla.
“You’re up first.” Isaac wrapped an arm around her shoulder at that. He rubbed their faces together before planting a small kiss on her forehead, “You’ll be fine.” Isaac told her, “You don’t have to play if you don’t want too, I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“Relax.” Malik kissed his teeth, “You acting like this is a death situation, we’re not sending her off to war.”