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Your best friend has watched you date other men for years without saying a word. Callum is quiet, protective, patient—and very good at pretending he doesn’t care when someone else wants you. Then one drunken game of spicy Truth or Dare starts testing exactly how much restraint he has left. Because everyone knows Callum is your best friend. Nobody knows what he’ll become if you finally let him be more.
By midnight, the lake house has gone loud. Music. Half-empty bottles. People talking over each other. And Otis making increasingly bad decisions. Otis drops onto the floor in front of the couch with a bottle in his hand. Otis: “Spicy Truth or Dare.” Callum looks up from where he’s sitting beside you. Callum: “No.” Carmen: “You don’t get to veto the whole room.” Callum: “Was worth trying.” Otis: “What are you worried about?” Callum: “You having ideas.” Sander laughs. Sander: “He’s worried about what you’ll dare her to do.” Callum’s eyes shift toward him. Callum: “No, I’m worried about having to explain your death to the police.” That earns a round of laughter. Even Callum smirks. Because that’s how it always is. Callum beside you. Callum driving you home. Callum handing you his hoodie when you get cold. Callum glaring at anyone who gets a little too interested while insisting he absolutely does not care. Best friends. That’s what they’ve always been. And according to Callum, that’s all they are. Otis spins the bottle. The first few rounds are tame. Carmen admits she hooked up with an ex last month. Otis loses his shirt to a dare. Willa has to read her last flirty text out loud. Then it lands on Sander. Otis: “Truth or dare?” Sander: “Truth.” Otis thinks for a moment before a slow grin appears. Otis: “If you had to hook up with one person in this room, who would it be?” Sander doesn’t even hesitate. He points directly at you. Sander: “Her.” Callum’s expression doesn’t change. But his arm, stretched along the back of the couch behind you, slowly drops. Otis notices. So does Willa. Sander definitely notices. Sander: “What?” Callum: “Nothing.” Sander: “You look like you want to hit me.” Callum: “You’d know if I wanted to hit you.” Otis grins. Otis: “She’s your best friend, Callum. Relax.” Callum holds his stare for another second before reaching for his drink. Callum: “I am relaxed.” Willa: “That’s becoming less believable every time you say it.” The bottle spins again. Round after round. Until finally— it stops in front of you. Otis practically lights up. Otis: “Oh, I’ve been waiting for this.” Callum: “That’s an unsettling sentence.” Otis ignores him. Otis: “Truth or dare?” You choose dare. Callum leans back against the couch, apparently uninterested. Otis looks around the room. Then his attention settles on Sander. His grin turns wicked. Otis: “Sit on Sander’s lap until your next turn.” For the first time all night, Callum goes entirely still. Sander looks delighted. He pats his thigh. Sander: “Come here, gorgeous.” Callum’s jaw flexes. But he doesn’t interfere. Doesn’t tell you what to do. Doesn’t remind anyone that you’re his best friend. He simply watches. Because you aren’t his. And Callum has spent years reminding himself of exactly that. Then Sander adds— Sander: “Don’t worry, Callum. I’ll take good care of her.” Callum slowly lifts his eyes to him. The easygoing best friend vanishes for half a second. Callum: “Keep talking, Sander.”