Page 37 of The Dare

In short order, Foster’s got a redhead on her knees. I watch with wide, impressed eyes as the girl takes the shot and pops up with a cherry between her lips. Chick’s got moves.

A few seconds later, Foster saunters back to our table with a dumb grin and his chest puffed out.

“Too easy,” he says, then chugs his beer. “My turn now. Beth.”

She smirks up at him. “Give me your best shot.”

Foster and his teammates have a conference before daring Beth to make out with a girl of her choice while the two girls trade bras. Without the slightest hesitation Beth enlists Olivia, who, as I’m discovering tonight, possesses a wild streak as well as a pretty decent sense of humor. I don’t know why we never hung out before.

Not wasting any time, the two Kappas stand up and lock lips while each tucks their arms into their shirts to undo their bras and pull them out of their sleeves then put on the new one. It happens so fast the men are left speechless and gawking.

“What just happened?” Cory asks stupidly.

“That’s some kind of witchcraft right there,” Conor remarks beside me.

I make the mistake of looking at Rebecca again, and this time she actually looks back. What ensues is the most awkward eye-locking in the history of mankind. I break visual contact when I hear someone say, “Taylor.”

“Huh?” I turn at the sound of my name.

Olivia is fluttering her fingers together like a cartoon villain. “It’s your turn. I dare you to…”

Oh, right.That’swhy we don’t hang out. Because anyone who knows me well and whom I consider a friend wouldn’t put me on the spot like this.

Sasha must read the panic on my face. “Oh come on. Hasn’t Taylor done enough? I think she’s earned her retirement.”

“…To give Conor a lap dance,” Olivia finishes gleefully.

Fuck my life.

Conor stiffens. His eyes meet mine, and although his expression reveals nothing, I can feel his concern. We haven’t known each other long, but he’s perceptive enough to know I’d rather accept the penalty of death than accept this embarrassing dare.

“Hell no,” he declares, jumping to his feet. “I don’t want a bunch of drunk perverts eyeing my girlfriend.”

To my shock, he peels out of his hoodie. Now he’s left ina tight white tank top that shows off his sculpted arms and washboard abs. Olivia audibly gasps.

He cocks his head suddenly, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Nice. Even got the music on my side,” he drawls. Then he pulls my chair back a bit and stands between me and the table.

“What are you doing?” I yelp.

“Blowing your mind.” He winks at me.

Dread fills my stomach when I recognize the song blasting from the bar’s sound system. “Pour Some Sugar on Me” by Def Leppard. Oh fuck me.

“Don’t,” I beg Conor, fear trembling in my voice. “Please don’t.”

Rather than heed my pleas, he licks his lips, sways his hips, and launches into a raunchy performance.

Oh my fucking God.

My fake boyfriend is giving me a real lap dance.

“Work it, baby!” Beth catcalls, while Olivia and the other girls transform into the living personification of the heart-eyes emoji.

When I try to covermyeyes, he pulls my hands away and runs them down his abs. Then he presses them against his ass as he gyrates and undulates in front of me to cheers and whistles as the entire bar stops to watch.

As mortifying as the attention is, Conor is weirdly good at this. And after the initial terror subsides, it becomes pretty hilarious the way he’s playing more goofy than sexy. I find myself laughing along with everyone else, as Foster and Bucky start shouting out the chorus of the song.

It’s all fun and games until it isn’t. Because then I blinkand the humor on Conor’s handsome turns into something headier. Heavy-lidded gray eyes fixed on me, he bends slightly and thrusts one hand through my hair. Long fingers tangle in the thick strands.

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