String the Player

3.

"We'll see." He takes another sip of the gin. "My turn. What's your best quality?"

I frown. Mostly because I don't have an answer. And partially because though it's my best, people don't really appreciate it. "I'm honest."

He doesn't bring up the fact that we pretty much started on a very unhonest route.

"What's your worst quality?" I ask.

Dan doesn't even take a second to think. "I'm honest." And takes a long sip from that bottle of evil after. His words are slightly slurring, and the responsible part of me wants to snatch the bottle, but the curious part tells me to let him drink. Alcohol dissolves the brain-to-mouth filter, and I'm dying to know more about this man.

"Illegal thing that definitely would've gotten you in prison?" he asks.

I have to rack my brain for this. For all my stupidity, I don't really play around. Pa will legit disown me if I end up in prison. But first in line will be Gramps. Problem is he won't disown me, he'll straight up shoot me point blank with the rifle that's currently dismantled in his closet.

"Fake ID," I finally answer. It's not like I even used it. I just had it and was too chicken to present it to anyone. By the time I mustered up the courage, I turned twenty-one.

"Oh, such a horrifying criminal," he teases.

"Heh, when you have a life like mine, your very existence feels like a crime." I don't let him wonder too much about what I said. "Best memory?"

He tips his head back in thought and doesn't answer for quite some time.

"This one summer when we were in primary, my brother and I wanted to bake a cake for Mom's birthday. But it was Sunday, and she was home, so we needed to get a little creative. We went to our neighbour's place, she's a damn good baker and had a super soft spot for Kian." He gets this dreamy look in his eyes like he's reliving some good times. "She helped us bake a huge two-tier cake. It was the most amazing thing ever, complete with butter pecan frosting and blueberries. Mom loves blueberries. We had to carry the cake just three houses down. Literally, three. We couldn't manage that and dropped it in our driveway. I blamed him, he blamed me. Next thing we know, it turns into a full-fledged cake fight. Our older sister came to yell at us, but Kian launched a fistful of frosting right into her hair, and so the competition began. Our other brother joined in too for the sake of it. Best time ever."

"So your best memory is wasting someone else's resources?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Mom made the four of us clean the entire driveway and made the twins wash the car and mow the lawn for extra measure. And paid our neighbour for her troubles. The twins bought her a cake later, though, so we still got our butter pecan for the night."

"Sounds like the perfect birthday."

"It was. Okay, you've asked two back-to-back questions. My turn now."

"Go ahead."

"Biggest fear," he asks.

"Waking up one day and finding out all my loved ones are gone." I'm not too far off from that, actually. It's just a matter of time before it becomes reality.

"Why are you afraid of that?"

My gaze snaps to his, and I can see he's genuinely curious. "Why wouldn't I be? Who would want to spend the rest of their life unloved?"

"Not the rest of your life. You just have to open your heart to more love. Seven point five billion people, there's a lot of love left in this world." There's no mirth in his words. He's serious.