Even I wasn’t sure where that came from.
“What?” Michael said. Clearly, he’d been expecting something a little more exciting, or at the very least risqué.
“Ballet,” I repeated. “Right there.” I pointed to the center of the rug. “Dance.”
Lia started cracking up. Even Dean bit back a smile.
“Ballet is a tradition of performance body movement hailing back to the early Renaissance,” Sloane said helpfully. “It is particularly popular in Russia, France, Italy, England, and the United States.”
Michael stopped her before she could orate an entire history of the art. “I’ve got this,” he said. And then, a solemn expression on his face, he stood up, he walked to the center of the room, and he struck a pose.
I’d seen Michael do smooth. I’d seen him do suave. I’d felt him push a piece of hair out of my face—but this. This was really something. He stood on his tippy-toes. He twirled in a circle. He bent his legs and stuck out his butt. But the best thing was the look in his eyes: cold, steely determination.
He capped the performance off with a curtsy.
“Very nice,” I said between hysterical giggles. He sank back onto the sofa and then turned dagger eyes on Lia.
“Truth or dare.”
Not surprisingly, Lia chose truth. Of all of us, she was probably the only one here who could lie and get away with it.
Michael smiled, as genial as Lia had been when she’d started this whole thing. “What’s your real name?”
For a few brief seconds, vulnerability and irritation passed over Lia’s features in quick succession.
“Your name isn’t Lia?” Sloane sounded strangely hurt at the idea that Lia might have lied about something as simple and basic as her own name.
“Yes,” Lia told her. “It is.”
Michael stared at Lia, raising his eyebrows ever so slightly.
“But once upon a time,” Lia said, sounding less and less like herself with every word, “my name used to be Sadie.”
Lia’s answer filled my mind with questions. I tried to picture her as a Sadie. Had she shed her old name as easily as she changed clothes? Why had she changed it? How had Michael known?
“Truth or dare …” Lia dragged her eyes across each of us, one by one, and I sensed something dark slowly unfurling inside of her. This wasn’t going to end well.
“Cassie.”
It didn’t seem fair that it was my turn again already, when Dean had yet to go, but I stepped up to the plate.
“Dare.” I don’t know what possessed me to choose that option, other than the fact that the look on Lia’s face convinced me that she’d make Sloane’s question look about as personal as an inquiry about the weather.
Lia beamed at me, and then beamed at Michael. Payback.
“I dare you,” Lia said, relishing each and every word, “to kiss Dean.”
Dean reacted to that sentence like he’d been electrocuted. He sat straight up. “Lia,” he said sharply. “No.”
“Oh, come now, Dean,” Lia cajoled. “It’s Truth or Dare. Take one for the team.” Without waiting for his reply, she turned back to me. “Kiss him, Cassie.”
I didn’t know what was worse, Dean’s objection to the idea of being forced to kiss me or the sudden realization that my body didn’t object to the idea of kissing him. I thought of our lessons with Locke, the feel of his hand on the back of my neck. …
Lia watched me expectantly, but Michael’s eyes were the ones I felt on my face as I crossed the room to stand in front of Dean.
I didn’t have to do this.
I could say no.
Dean looked up at me, and for a split second, I saw something other than deadly neutrality on his face. His eyes softened. His lips parted, like there was something he wanted to say.
I knelt next to the fireplace. I put one hand on his cheek, and I brought my lips to his. It was a friendly kiss. A European hello. Our mouths only touched for a second—but I felt it, electric, all the way to my toes.
I pulled back, unable to force my eyes away from his lips as I did. For a few seconds, we just stayed there, staring at each other: him on the fireplace and me kneeling on the rug.
“Your turn, Cassie.” Lia sounded pretty darned satisfied with herself.
I forced myself to stand up and walk back to the sofa. I sat down, still able to feel the ghost of Dean’s lips on mine. “Truth or dare, Dean?”
It was only fair: he was the sole person present who hadn’t been in the hot seat yet. For a second, I thought he might refuse and call an end to this game, but he didn’t.
“Truth.”
This was the opportunity Michael hadn’t given me. There were so many things I wanted to know. I concentrated on that, instead of what had passed between us a moment before.
“The other day, when Locke said she couldn’t take Lia to the crime scene, you said that wasn’t what the program was anymore.” I paused. “What did you mean?”
Dean nodded, as if that were a perfectly reasonable question to ask after you’d kissed a person. “I was the first one,” he said. “Before there was a program, before they started using the term Naturals, it was just Briggs and me. I didn’t live with Judd. The FBI brass didn’t know about me. Briggs brought me questions. I gave him answers.”
“Questions about killers.” I wasn’t allowed a follow-up question, so I phrased it as a statement. Dean nodded. Lia cut in, breaking off all conversation.
“He was twelve,” she said, clipping the words. “Your turn, Dean.”
“Cassie,” Dean said. That was it—no “truth or dare.” Just my name.
Beside me, Michael’s jaw clenched. Lia’s payback had hit its target—and then some.
“Truth,” I said, trying not to dwell on Michael’s reaction or what it might mean.
“Why did you come here?” Dean asked, looking at Lia, at his own hands, at anything but me. “Why join this program at all?”
There were a lot of answers to that question that would have been technically true. I could have said that I wanted to help people. I could have said that I’d always known that I’d never quite fit in the regular world. But I didn’t.
“My mother was murdered.” I cleared my throat, trying to say the words like they were just any other words. “Five years ago. Based on the blood spatter, they think she was stabbed. Repeatedly. The police never found her body, but there was enough blood that they don’t think she could have survived. I used to think that maybe she had. I don’t anymore.”
Dean didn’t react visibly to that confession—but Lia went unnaturally still, and Sloane’s mouth dropped open as she averted her eyes. Michael had known about my mother, but I’d never said a word to any of the others.
Truth or dare, Dean. I wanted to say the words, but I couldn’t keep asking Dean questions. Already, we’d kept this game between the two of us for too long. “Truth or dare, Lia?”
“Truth.” Lia said the word like a challenge. I asked her whether she was messy or neat. She lowered her chin, raised her eyebrows, and stared at me.
“Seriously,” she said. “That’s your question?”
“That’s my question,” I confirmed.
“I’m a mess,” she said. “By every sense of the word.” She didn’t give me time to meditate on the fact that I’d pegged her right before she targeted Michael for the next round. I expected him to pick dare again, but he didn’t.
“Truth.”
Lia ran dainty hands over her dress. She gave him her most wide-eyed, innocent look. Then she asked him if he was jealous when I kissed Dean. Michael didn’t bat an eye, but I thought Dean might actually throttle Lia.