Page 18 of Crossing Lines

“No fair,” I protest. “You can’t consult together on a dare.”

“We can and will,” Aria says, passing me another shot. “You’re going to need that.”

I toss back the shot,the liquid a mere sensation of coolness against my tongue before it’s gone. My taste buds don’t work anymore since they’re as drunk as the rest of me.

“Okay,” I say. “Hit me with it.”

“I dare you to…” Aria says, pausing for dramatic effect. “Call Evren and ask him a random question.”

I grin and pull out my phone.That’sthe best they’ve got? Pfft, that’s child’s play. I squint, making sure I got the right person and press Evren’s name. He answers on the second ring.

“I have to say,” he says, “I didn’t expect you to ever use my number.”

“Don’t think too highly of yourself. I have a very important question to ask you.”

“I’m all ears.”

“How much sawdust do you think can go into a Rice Krispie Treat before people start to notice?”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end while Aria and Elodie try to hold their laughs in.

“Hmm,” he says, “that is an important question, and a fitting one for one a.m.”

“I thought so. So, what’s your answer?”

“First, I need to find out what a Rice Krispie Treat is.” He pauses for a moment before saying, “Don’t tell me people actually eatthat.”

“Hey now, don’t diss one of my favorite foods. It’s cereal and marshmallows; there’s nothing wrong with it.”

“Fine, I’ll reserve my judgment until after I try it.”

“So, what’s your guess?” I ask.

“Twenty-five percent,” he says with far more confidence than I expected.

“Why did you choose that number?”

“Well, even though sawdust has been used in food for centuries, I surely hope anything over twenty-five percent is noticeable.”

Aria asks loudly, “What did he say?”

“Twenty-five percent.” I cover the microphone, as if that will make it less obvious I’m talking to them. “That’s way higher than I would’ve said.”

“Google says it’s around thirty-three percent,” Elodie responds. “Apparently people studied this.”

“That’s…disturbing.”

“Nina,” Evren says, drawing my focus back to him. “Are you drunk-dialing me?”

“Well, that depends on your definition. Am I drunk? Yes. Am I dialing you of my own accord? No.”

“That makes no sense.”

I chuckle. “It makes all the sense in the world.”

“Where are you partying?”

“At a bar named Bar. Got to run, toodle-oo.” I hang up and laugh. “That was fun. Let’s make the next dares all related to calling someone we know.”

---