The Boiling Point

Joan did as Joan was: bashfully. She asked for a truth, and Molly took it easy on her, like everyone expected her to. For a couple of rounds things calmed down. There was still some tension simmering under the surface of it all, but we pretended it was all just a normal game, and that we were or could be friends from one and all. Things came crashing to a halt when Jack's turn came around again, as we all should've expected it to. He'd chosen a truth from Harry, and expressed his interest in blondes above all; none of us ladies in the circle, not being blonde, took much offense. I chose not to ask Lea what color she had beneath her blue and green dye, because I was afraid of the effect it might have on the alliance that seemed to be silently growing between them. But that gave Jack full rein, and he looked right at Paul. It only took one glance to know that things were about to take a turn, whether he chose truth or dare.

“Paulie, brother!” He held on to that last R like a sailor clinging to a piece of driftwood at sea. “Truth or dare?” he said in a sing-song voice.

‘Paulie’ knew better than to test him. He deliberated, with the two sides of the argument having it out on his face, and then came to the conclusion that asking for a dare wouldn't do anything for him. Unfortunately, opting for truth instead didn't save him.

“Truth,” he said, not imagining what a problem it would cause. Neither did I. Nobody could.

Jack tapped on his chin, but I'm sure he already knew what he was going to say. “How far have you gotten, buddy? You even kissed a girl yet?”

Paul's face died. Honestly, I never guessed he would take it so hard; probably because, like Jack, I'd assumed the answer was that he hadn't gotten very far at all. He darkened. On another person it could've looked foreboding, but Paul's baby fat face, and his crummy hoodie, just made me think he looked like a baby that was about to cry. “I’m not a fucking virgin,” he seethed.

That didn’t appease Jack any. He laughed even louder. “I’d love to see what kind of cow let you hit,” he cackled.

“What the fuck?” I said. That was going too far even for him.

Then Paul was on his feet, and as lightning blew up the city’s skyline, for a second I thought I was about to see him lay Jack out. Please, God, let it be, I found myself praying. But it was words, not fists, that he opted for. “I fucked Molly!” he declared triumphantly.

Mouths hung open everywhere. “What?” whined Joan. Oh, you poor, dumb bastard, I thought. If he’d just played it cool he could have ended up a happy man with a nice, if moony, little nursing girl. She would probably end up making more money than him, with his history degree. But then, totally by chance, my eyes passed over Molly. If Joan was horrified, then the look on her face was something else entirely. Worse, I recognized it. It wasn’t a girl outraged that she’d been slandered. It was a girl in shock that her secret had come out.

“No,” I gasped. “Why?”

“What the fuck?” Paul complained in my direction.

“No, no, you’re– you’re a nice guy, Paul, I’m just surprised!” I said, trying to do damage control. It was half true. He was an alright guy.

“It was one time!” Molly pleaded. She looked around the circle for anyone that might listen and take her seriously. By the real fear on her face, I was starting to get concerned that something really bad had happened, something that would require Harry and Jack dragging Paul out of there for a beating. “He wrote one fucking stupid paper for me for one class and made me promise to sleep with him if he did! I wouldn’t have–” She froze, clearly feeling she’d said too much already. Molly wasn’t a mean person by nature, she just wasn’t. And I could easily understand why she would want to clear the air over something like this. But there was color building on Paul’s face, and I could see him turning into something… else. He’d suffered enough torment tonight already.

“Fucking slut,” he muttered under his breath.

“Excuse me!?” Molly shouted.