Never Have I Ever Question Novels & Stories

said the man in his British accent and deep voice that surprised me that I almost stop from moving because I think he will hear even the sound of my moves. “No, it’s only the two of us” the girl said and the man just look outside the window How ironic it is, I feel like I'm still alive in the way I act in front of him. He asked that question to his girlfriend does that mean he can't see me? But what about that he feels that someone is behind him? Or he’s just pretending? He might think I had a gun and be willing to shoot them when they try to talk to me

“But… our age is not all we need to know about each other.” “I’m sure that is about it…” I replied, shrugging indifferently. “Really?” Navy asked, his eyes glimmering with mischief. I nodded slightly, suddenly uncertain of my objection. “Then I’m going to ask you some questions and you better give me all the right answers.” A feeling of apprehension gripped me as invisible drum rolls played in the air. “Where did we first meet?” He started, “When was the first time I said ‘I love you’”

’ ‘Yes Elian really, how do we play? ‘So I’m going to sign something that I’ve done and if you’ve done it too you’ll have to drink. I’ll start my sentence with never have I ever….blank ok?’ ‘Ok?’ ‘If I ask and you haven’t done it then I have to drink then it will be your turn and you can ask the questions. It’s pretty simple right?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Ok I’ll start,’ he readjusts his seat slightly so we are even closer, our feet slightly touching, ‘let’s have a warm up first, never have I ever snuck out of my job with a stranger before.’

But now, he was filled with a curiosity I couldn't quite understand. “How… What… Excuse me?” I find myself stammering. Nobody—nobody—has ever asked me this question before. Not Emerson. Not Eric. People assume. People tell me. People write about me in articles, gossip, and whispers behind closed doors. But never has anyone actually asked me that to my face. And it’s not just the question—it’s the way Trey put it, with detachment. I don't know how I feel about it.

"Happiness isn't about how much money you have." "That's just an excuse poor people make," Charles sneered. "With me, Sophia gets to wear fancy Chanel dresses, sparkling Bulgari jewelry, and carry stylish Hermès bags. We spend our summers on sunny Zyrene beaches and our winters skiing in the Aldren Peaks. What can you offer her? Scratchy clothes and tough steaks?" The words stung, and I glanced at Brandon, worried he might crumble. However, he just smiled and asked, "If Sophia's so wonderful, why did you hurt her before?"

"Never have I ever... been arrested." Nobody drank. "Really?" Sophia said, looking disappointed. "Not even for something minor? Public intoxication? Speeding?" "Speeding tickets don't count as arrest," Valerie pointed out. "Fine. Never have I ever," Sophia continued, "kissed someone whose name I didn't know." Valerie drank, knowing Sophia did that on purpose. Damien also drank. "Never have I ever," Damien said, "had a one-night stand with someone I met the same day."

"Do you have any idea how long it took me to edit that set? And that was the only film!" Quincy slowly stood up and turned around, looking at me as if I were beneath him. That look in his eyes scared me. It was nothing like the warm, soft-spoken husband I knew. There was no love or affection in his eyes. Instead, all I could see was only icy indifference and disgust. "Yeah, I burned them. So what? Stop overreacting," Quincy answered coldly. "It's nothing but proof of something fake. It was taking up space that could be used for better stuff."

"Why are you standing so far away? Come over here. Watch carefully and learn." My feet felt rooted to the floor. I stood there, stiff and unmoving. "Did you go deaf?" His voice dropped, heavy with threat. Hannah hurried to smooth things over, feigning kindness. "Theo, don't make things hard for Catherine. This kind of thing is embarrassing for her to watch." "That's exactly why she's watching," he said coldly. "Back when she was begging for my attention, she had no shame at all. Why would she be embarrassed now?"

“That's a very layered question...you don't honestly expect me to just answer that right now. Not after everything.” My breathing quickened. That old, suffocating feeling I’d carried since her supposed death started slipping back in, tightening around my chest. Heartbreak, maybe, but it was more than that. It was a desperate need for a truth I could hold onto. Still, I couldn't look at her directly. And still, my lips formed the most pressing question, the one that had haunted me for a year. “Did you ever love me?” I let out a sharp, shaky sigh as a new realization dawned. "Now that I think of it...you never even said it. Not once."

He looked as though he wished to know what he saw. “How long have you been here?” he asked. The question surprised me. It was not a command disguised as curiosity. It was simply a question. “Since I was young,” I said after a moment. “And before Hawthorne?” he pressed. I hesitated. Truth is dangerous when offered upward. “There was little before Hawthorne,” I answered carefully. “Only work elsewhere.” His mouth shifted as though he might speak, then he didn’t. He watched me in that quiet way again — not cold, not cruel, but measuring. As if my caution interested him more than my words.