When My Boyfriend Let His Best Friend Torture Me

At ten o'clock, Nyra tapped a spoon against her champagne glass.

The music dropped. Every head turned. She stood on the edge of Nico's couch like a little girl on a stage, holding two crystal bowls against her chest.

"Okay, everyone! Game time!" Her voice bounced off the high ceiling. "This bowl has all our names. This one has dares. I pull a name, I pull a dare. No take-backs!"

Nico sat up. For the first time all night, he looked interested.

"What kind of dares?" he drawled.

Nyra winked at him. "The fun kind."

People laughed and crowded closer. Chloe Jenkins from front desk squealed and clapped. Drake moved to stand behind Nyra, like a bodyguard. He still hadn't looked at me.

I stayed by the window. The glass was cold on my back. The fire pit glowed on the terrace, and somebody had set a wide metal tray beside it. Black lumps sat on the tray, red at the edges. I hadn't noticed it before.

My stomach went tight.

The first few rounds were easy. A busboy had to sing. A bartender had to do push-ups. Nico laughed at all of it, but his laugh was getting thin. He kept checking his watch.

Then Nyra reached into the name bowl again.

I watched her hand. I had cleaned rooms for three years. I knew how people moved when they were hiding something. Her fingers didn't dig. They didn't search. She just closed them, quick, like the paper was already waiting there.

She unfolded it and gasped.

"Lilian!"

Every face turned to my corner. Somebody whistled.

Nyra dipped into the dare bowl. Again, no searching. She read it, and her hand flew to her mouth.

"Oh no," she whispered. Then louder, so the whole room could hear. "Walk barefoot across the coals."

The room went quiet. Then Nico laughed. A real laugh this time. He set his glass down and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.

"Now we're talking," he said.

Nyra's eyes went huge and wet. "Oh my gosh, I feel so bad. I wrote that one for me. It was supposed to be *my* draw. But I have such sensitive skin, I just can't—" Her lower lip trembled. She turned and looked up at Drake. "Drakey, I didn't mean for it to be her. I swear."

Drake touched her shoulder. "It's fine, Ny. It's not your fault."

*Not your fault.* She'd written it. She'd picked it. And he was comforting her.

Everyone was looking at me now. Waiting. I could feel their eyes like hands.

I shook my head.

"No," I said quietly. "I'm not doing that."

A few people groaned. Chloe muttered, "Wow. Buzzkill." Nico sighed loudly and picked his glass back up, like I was a TV show that had turned boring.

Drake's face changed. I knew that look. Jaw tight. Nostrils wide. He crossed the room in five steps.

He grabbed my arm above the elbow. Hard. His fingers pressed right into the bone.

"Stop making a scene," he hissed into my ear. His breath smelled like whiskey and mint. "It's one dare. Just do it and stop embarrassing me in front of everyone."

"Drake, it's *fire*."

"It's party coals. Half of them are out." His grip got tighter. "Nico is watching. Do you understand? Don't ruin this for me."

*For me.* Not for us. It had never been us.

He didn't wait for my answer. He steered me toward the terrace doors. My sneakers squeaked on the polished floor. People stepped aside to let us through. Nobody stopped him. Nobody said a word.

The wind hit me outside. Cold and salty. Behind the railing, the ocean roared in the dark.

The tray was wider up close. Six feet long, maybe. The coals ticked and hissed. Heat rolled up into my face.

I pulled my phone from my pocket. My hand was shaking.

02:41:17.

Two hours and forty-one minutes.

I could say it. Right now. *I am Lilian Salazar.* I could watch Nico's face fall. I could watch Drake let go.

But then three years would mean nothing. The blisters, the bleach burns, the nights I cried in the supply closet. Grandpa's voice in my head: *If you break, you were never meant to lead.*

I put the phone away.

I bent down and untied my sneakers. My fingers were stiff. I peeled off my socks. The stone terrace was freezing under my bare feet. My torn blister from this morning stung in the wind.

Behind me, somebody held up a phone. Then another. The little red lights blinked on.

I stepped onto the tray.

The pain was white. It didn't feel like heat at first. It felt like teeth. I took a second step. A third. I bit my cheek so hard I tasted copper. I did not run. I did not scream. I would not give them that.

The smell reached me before the last step. Burnt skin. Mine.

I stepped off onto the cold stone. My knees almost folded. I grabbed the railing and held on.

Nico jumped up and whooped. "Yes! *That's* what I'm talking about!" He raised his glass to the room. "The maid's got guts!"

Everyone cheered with him. Like they had been on my side all along.

I looked back for Drake.

He was standing by the doors. His shoulders dropped, slow and loose, like a man who had just dodged a bill. He let out a long breath.

Then he slid his arm around Nyra's waist.

She leaned her head on his chest. Over his shoulder, she looked straight at me. And she smiled.

My feet throbbed with every heartbeat. Out in the black water, a wave hit the rocks and broke apart.

In my pocket, my phone buzzed again.