Page 21 of The Dare

ME:Not a prank, I swear.

HER:You’re actually at his HOUSE????

ME:Swear on my signed poster of Ariana Grande.

That’s the only pop star Sasha allows me to fangirl over. Usually it’s “if they can’t sing live without lip-syncing or using their auto tuner, then they’re not a real musician, blah blah blah.”

HER:50% of me still thinks you’re lying to me. Is it just the two of you?

ME:Six of us. Me + Con + 4 roommates.

HER:Con???? WE’RE ON NICKNAME BASIS NOW?

ME:No, we’re on shortening his name for texting convenience basis.

I’m about to punctuate that with an eyeroll emoji when the phone is unceremoniously snatched from my hand.

“Hey, give it back,” I protest, but Conor just flashes an evil grin and proceeds to read my entire text convo with Sashaout loudto his roommates.

“You have a signed poster of Ariana Grande?” Alec demands. At least I think it’s Alec. I’m still trying to learn all their names.

“Do you kiss it good night before bedtime?” inquires Matt, which evokes a howl of laughter from the others.

I glare at Conor. “Traitor.”

He winks. “Hey, like my junior high teacher Ms. Dillard always warned, if she catches you writing notes in Geography, she’ll read ’em out loud to the whole class.”

“Ms. Dillard sounds like a sadist. And so are you.” I roll my eyes dramatically. “What if I’d been texting about my horrible period cramps?”

Next to Alec, Gavin blanches. “Give ’er the phone back, Con. Nothing good could come of this.”

Conor’s gray eyes dip back to the screen. “But T’s friend doesn’t believe we’re all hanging out. Hold on, let’s show receipts. Smile, boys.”

Then he has the gall to snap a picture. My jaw drops when all four roommates flex their biceps for the camera.

“There,” Conor says with a satisfied nod. “Sent.”

I forcibly wrest the phone from his stupid hand. Sure enough, he’d sent Sasha that pic. And her response is immediate.

HER:OMFG. I want to lick Matt Anderson’s dimples.

HER:And then suck his dick.

I burst out laughing, which prompts Conor to try to steal my phone again. This time I win the battle, and firmly shove the iPhone into my purse before anyone can get their grubby hands on it.

“See this?” I tell the room, holding up the leather purse. “This is a sacred place. Any man who dares snoop through a woman’s purse will be murdered in his sleep by the Bag Butcher.”

Conor snickers. “Damn, babe. Your serial killer is showing.”

I just shoot him a saccharine smile. Then I finally shrug out of my cardigan, because all these big male bodies are generating a crazy amount of heat.

The moment the material slides off my shoulders, I feel more than one set of eyes travel to my chest. A flush rises in my cheeks, but I ignore it and purse my lips.

“Everything okay there?” I ask Gavin, whose brown eyes are completely glazed over.

“Um, yeah, all good. I’m…you’re…ah…I like your dress.”

Matt snickers from his new perch on one of the recliners. “Pick your tongue off the floor, loverboy.”

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