Truth or Dare

Chapter 1: Between the Refills

"That guy was an idiot," Powell remarked, his voice dripping with amusement as they continued to mock the man's recent, absurd arrest.

Hopper laughs as he takes a sip of his third beer.

Ever since the divorce, Hopper had been living on autopilot. He spent his nights at the bottom of a glass, drifting from one girl to the next, just looking for anything to keep him from having to be alone with his own thoughts.

He starts scanning the bar for the next one.
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Joyce and Karen make their way into the bar, sat down, and started drinking and gossiping about the usual low sakes gossip.

Joyce spent a lot of time working at a grocery store, always making sure she could afford to keep things steady for her kids. Outside of being with her boys, Joyce mostly spent her time in preferred solitude.
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Hopper caught the eye of a woman near the jukebox and wasted no time, sliding in close to lean against the counter, his hand brushing her arm with his practiced charisma. He started flirting, his voice dropping into that perfect tone of voice that seems to always do the trick.

Across the room, Karen was mid conversation when she stopped, widening her eye. "Oh my god!" she whispered, nearly spilling her cocktail.

Joyce looked up, startled. "What? What is it?"

Karen nodded sharply toward the far side of the bar. "It's Jim! He's here!"

Joyce turned slowly on her barstool. 

There he was. Hopper. Her old friend from high school. The boy she had shared secrets with until he left for the war, the man who had vanished without a word, ghosting her completely as if their history had never existed.

"Wow," Joyce murmured, the word catching in her throat as she stared at his back.

They both watched as Hopper continued to hold the woman's attention. He looked exactly how he had years ago, but his personality seemed completely different, like a stranger.

"He looks... busy," Joyce noted, her voice carefully detached.

Karen squinted, leaning in as if to get a better look at their body language. "Probably just talking."

But the moment the words left Karen's lips, the space between them vanished. Hopper leaned forward, and he and the woman began kissing, oblivious to anyone else in the room.

Joyce turned back to Karen, giving her an amused face. 

"Or not," Karen said.
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As they looked back at their drinks, a loud noise echoed through the bar. Joyce and Karen turned their heads up just in time to see the woman deliver a stinging slap across Hopper's cheek. She stormed out of the bar, leaving him standing there with a bright red handprint  across his skin.

Joyce and Karen watched the scene, their amusement growing.

Behind the bar, they heard the bartender grumble to a coworker while he wiped down a glass.
"I wonder what he did now," the bartender said, shaking his head. "He's here like every night trying to find another woman. It's pathetic."

The other bartender shrugged, unfazed. "Eh. He's just a playboy. Nothing wrong with that."
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"We should go," Joyce insisted, already starting to gather her purse.

Karen frowned, confused. "What? Why! Because of him?"

"Yes. I don't want him to see me."

"Why?"

"I have my reasons," Joyce said firmly, refusing to meet Karen's gaze.

But it was too late. Karen's eyes flickered past Joyce, making direct eye contact with Hopper.

 The recognition was instant.  Hopper's expression shifted, his gaze locking onto Joyce with a look of surprise that quickly sharpened into intent. He immediately started walking straight toward them.

"Shit!" Karen hissed.

"What?" Joyce asked, her eyes widening as she felt the shift in the room's energy.

"He's coming over here."

Joyce groaned, sinking lower in her seat and wishing she could disappear into the wood of the bar stool.

"Karen?"

"Hey, Jim."

"Wow. It's been a while."

"I'd say more than a while," Karen chuckled, her gaze darting between the two of them.
Hopper shifted his weight, his eyes sliding from Karen to Joyce. Joyce kept her gaze firmly fixed on the surface of the bar, tracing the condensation on her glass.
"Hiya, Joyce."

Joyce didn't look up. "Hi, Jim."

"Wanna drink?" He gestured with a tilt of his head toward the bartender.

Joyce finally looked up, catching his eye for the first time. She held up her glass, showing him it was still half-full.

"Well, how about a refill?"

Joyce looked at him, amused, a corner of her mouth ticking upward as she watched him try to play it cool.

"I'm gonna run to the restroom." Karen smirks quickly walking away, before Joyce can plead for her to not leave her alone with the man in front of her.

"You're mad at me."

Joyce looked at him, her expression hardening. "How do you know I'm mad?"

"Because I know you."

Joyce let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. "I haven't seen you in a long time. You don't know anything about me anymore."

Hopper leaned in, his usual bravado faltering as the atmosphere between them shifted from flirtatious to something  more tense. 

"Why are you mad at me?"

"You should already know!" Joyce's voice rose.

"Tell me..." he pressed, his voice dropping low, challenging her to say it out loud.

Joyce didn't back down. She leaned in, her eyes flashing with a decade's worth of unspoken resentment. "Why do you think? After writing to me the entire time you were at war, you ghosted me the second you got back. Then, I heard you got married...oh and now, apparently, you're divorced. That is unless I'm wrong and your wife is either okay with you being here, or you're cheating, I don't know what game you're playing."

Hopper went completely speechless, his mouth opening slightly as the words hit him like a physical blow. The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, as he realized exactly how much of her heart he had broken and how little room he had left to hide.

Hopper stared at her for a long moment, the air between them thick with the ghosts of the last decade. Without breaking eye contact, he reached for his glass, downed another shot, and let the burn settle in his chest, his numbness overruling his sense of caring.

"You don't know me anymore either, you know," he said, his voice flat.

Joyce didn't flinch.

 She kept her chin high, her hands steady as she gripped her drink. "So why are you over here?"

Hopper looked away, his jaw tight. He sounded tired, looked tired as he muttered, "I wanted to say hi to an old friend, but clearly that was a mistake."

Joyce frowned, a flash of genuine hurt crossing her face before she locked it back behind a mask of cold indifference. "Yeah," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "It was."

Just as the tension reached its breaking point, Karen finally returned, navigating her way back through the crowded tables.

 Joyce didn't give her a second to settle in. She shoved her chair back, the movement sharp and decisive.

"Come on we're going!" Joyce commands with a voice of frustration.

"What? Why?"

"I said let's go!" Joyce didn't bother to explain. She didn't look back at Hopper, she sped out of the bar as he watched her leave.
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