The softer David looked, the tougher I felt I needed to be.
“A disappointment.” He sighed, feigning sadness. “Drunk Yara might actually be fun to hang with.”
“If I were such a chore to hang around, you wouldn’t be blowing up my phone every other day,” I countered.
His expression changed. For a second, I thought I had made a decent shot.
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” he said in a voice that indicated he never once believed that was a possibility. “But you’re the one who started texting me.”
My jaw tightened as I remembered our first back and forth when we’d gotten to campus. I’d been at rock bottom, and he’d been familiar.
“Why are we here, David?” I asked instead of going down that rabbit hole with him. My boots were too wet to be comfortable, and the ends of my twists were still dripping water onto the back of my blouse. I need a warm shower, a cup of coffee, and a crappy reality TV show to veg out on immediately.
“Follow me.” He pushed away from the bar with a dark smile that sent a spark through my veins. This spark didn’t feel as ominous as it usually did…In fact, it kind of felt exciting.
What the hell was there to be excited about in David’s presence?
“Hope you remember rule number two,” I called after him. The place had gotten harder to navigate. I bumped into a few people as I tried to keep up with him. It looked like the band was switching out. A guy with a charming grin took the place of the soulful singer from before. His opening word to the crowd was ‘howdy.’ I started at the roaring response it received.
“Of course I remember,” David tossed the words over his shoulder. “You remind me every time. You really that scared?”
“Truly,” I had to yell over the crowd to confirm.
After our first few dares, we came up with a set ofrules neither of us could break. First, never dare one another to do something illegal. No stealing from stores, committing fraud, yada yada. Occasional trespassing might be acceptable, depending on the context.
Rule number two: we couldn’t dare one another to do something that could physically harm ourselves or others.
Rule number three: Dares couldn’t be sexual. No daring to hug, kiss, or sleep with someone…or each other.
As we neared his destination, my stomach dropped, and my mind immediately went to rule two. I said as much out loud, which earned me a laugh from David.
“You're not going to hurt yourself,” David said as soon as the current rider on the mechanical bull fell off headfirst. They rolled off the padding, rubbing their neck.
“Well…as long as you hold on or fall with grace,” he added with a shrug.
I took in the large, brown-saddled bull. Every part of me twisted at the thought of mounting that thing. My clothes would get more wrinkled than they were currently. And my twists would whip in every direction. I swallowed at the thought of how ridiculous I’d look. When I glanced at David, he was looking back at me with a smile. He knew. He knew I wasn’t just scared of falling. David understood how much I adored looking put together and in control of every aspect of my appearance. He knew how ridiculous this would make me look and feel. He had found the perfect activity to ensure maximum embarrassment and discomfort. Payback for the fountain slip.
“I didn’t dare you to get in the water.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“I know. But I am daring you to get on the bull… or, are you putting an end to this once and for all?”
The first one of us to refuse a dare meantthe game was over, and that person owed the other person anything. Anything on David’s terms was dangerous.
“Absolutely not,” I snapped and pulled a hair tie from my pocket. He watched with a smug look on his face as I unbuttoned the sleeves of my silk top and rolled them up.
“Just be happy I’m not setting a time limit,” he said. “Originally, I wanted you up there for at least a minute.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, thank you for your benevolence.”
“For you? Always.”
“Who’s next?” The operator called, looking around the crowd for a willing participant.
I squared my shoulders, cracked my knuckles, and declared, “Me.”
“You?” The operator’s eyebrow lifted. He readjusted his cowboy hat as if he were having trouble seeing me. “Are you sure, sweetheart?”
I scoffed at the overly familiar pet name. “More sure than you’ll be if you call me that again.”
