One Little Dare

by Whitney Barbetti

  “All the impersonators were booked,” Liam explained, sipping from his soda.

  “I thought it was beautiful,” Bekka gushed, her eyes all dreamy. “You know at the end of Twilight, when Edward and Bella dance together in that gazebo? That’s what the conservatory reminded me of.”

  I laughed and glanced sideways at Liam, fully expecting him not to get the reference, but he actually burst out laughing.

  “You’ve seen Twilight?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I have. Funny story. My friend, Will, heard that there was this vampire movie in the theaters, right after Halloween.” Liam’s bright blue eyes lit up and he played with his straw in a distracted way. “So, he calls all of us—our group of friends—and says, ‘Let’s go see this scary movie, see who chickens out first.’” Liam laughed and ran a hand through his hair. “So, we go. All five of us, sitting in the same row. But we notice that the theater is filling up with teenage girls. Vince looks around, confused, and asked Will what the movie was even about. But Will was just as confused as he was and shrugged. The movie begins and we are stuck in the middle of the theater for the entire time. At the very end of the movie, Vince stood up and exclaimed, ‘That was bullshit!’ We were run out of the theater by all the teenage girls.” Liam ran a hand over his face as we all laughed. “So, yes. I know what scene you’re talking about. She has a broken leg or something, right?”

  “Right, and he lifts her while they’re dancing.” Bekka had a faraway look in her eyes. “That was the only thing missing from your wedding. The dancing.”

  “Oh, dancing,” Lauren said with a sigh. “Let’s go dancing!”

  I was about to protest. Not because I was tired—I wasn’t. But I didn’t want Liam to feel obligated to spend any more time together. The wedding and the burgers were great and while I enjoyed spending time with him, I also was hyper aware of the fact that I needed to figure out my next steps. Like, when I’d go home and face the bullshit that was my dad’s lack of commitment and the fallout from that.

  But before I could give Liam an out, he put his arm around my shoulders. “Up for some dancing, then?”

  Like I could say no.

  The club Katy had chosen—because of course she had—was just down the block from the hotel, which was a good thing considering the amount of alcohol we were all partaking in. One celebratory tequila shot had turned into two, which had turned into three, and then four and after that, I’d lost track.

  To my surprise, Liam was hitting it off with Lauren and Bekka. He took turns spinning them on the dance floor. Katy had decided to head to the hotel somewhere around the third round of shots, leaving us four to dance the night away.

  “God, he’s just so great,” Bekka said after her turn with Liam was over. She tilted her head back so that her hair fell across the bar. Sweat and spilled drinks had made it thick and messy, but for the first time during the entire trip, she looked truly happy. All it took was me getting fake married to a perfect gentleman, I guessed. And Katy bowing out early. Probably more of that than my fake husband.

  “He is pretty great,” I agreed. I watched as he spun Lauren in a circle, her hair fanning out and her laughter loud even over the bone-shattering volume of the music that played.

  Every once in a while, he’d catch my eye across the dance floor, give me a smile that turned me inside out, before turning his attention back to Bekka or Lauren, whoever he was tangling with at that moment. I wasn’t much of a dancer—my dances tended to appear as ironic and intentionally awkward—which was why I’d waved him off every time, insisting that he dance with Lauren and Bekka—who actually wanted to dance. But that was part of my life of the party persona—to make people laugh. But I didn’t feel like making anyone laugh just then.

  I was fighting with the idea that I’d made vows reserved for a legal contract to a man whom I had no legal ties to. I’d brushed off the wedding as a silly thing; a dare. Halfway through the ceremony, as I’d made vows that held more weight than just the breath it took to say them, something had shifted within me. It wasn’t supposed to be real, but that’s exactly how it had felt.

  I didn’t like not knowing what came next, what would happen tomorrow. Which made no sense, because I loved spontaneity. But I didn’t like not knowing where I stood, especially with him. I didn’t like that I’d known this man for only a handful of hours, and he was making me think too hard about tomorrows and next steps when it should have been a quick dare, something to laugh about and forget.

  “Here he comes,” Bekka yelled into my ear, as if my eyes hadn’t been following him the entire time.

  I clutched my glass tightly as Liam approached and my breath hitched when he leaned over me. “Are you thirsty?” I asked, holding up my drink.

  Without answering, he took the drink, maintaining eye contact the whole time as he took a swallow. “That’s good.”

  “Mm-hm,” I agreed, watching him lick his lips. “I hope you don’t mind that we haven’t danced tonight.”

  “I don’t mind,” he said, dipping his head so his lips brushed my earlobe. “This place isn’t really my scene.”

  I turned, my lips grazing along his jaw as my mouth found his ear. “You wouldn’t know it from the way you danced with my friends.” To anyone else, it might have sounded like I was jealous. Actually, I was far from it. If anything, I was grateful that he wasn’t in a hurry to ditch my friends and steal me away from them. If this weekend wasn’t meant for Bekka, I might be down with that idea myself.

  “Lauren’s got more energy than a herd of border collies,” he said, causing me to laugh so hard I thought my drink might come out of my nose. “I don’t know where she gets it from, but I think she could easily outlast everyone on that dance floor.”

  I glanced sideways at Lauren who was signing her check.

  “Are you leaving?” I asked.

  “I’m tired,” Bekka said by way of explanation, putting her credit card back into her wallet. “I should probably check on Katy anyway.”

  This was the moment I was dreading. What were Liam and I supposed to do now? Hug and part ways as friends?

  I turned to him, bracing myself for that conversation, when he answered for me. “I’ll walk you guys back to your room.”

  When we made it up to the room, all the lights were on. Which should have been clue number one that something wasn’t right. Bekka was the first one in the suite and dipped into the room she shared with her sister before immediately exiting it and holding her hand over her mouth, turning to face us. “Oh, God.”

  “What?” Lauren asked, moving around her to take in whatever sights lay before her. She paused in the doorway and her mouth contorted in a shape I’d never seen before. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “Do I even want to know?” I asked from the hallway, where I waited with Liam.

  “Katy puked everywhere.” Lauren turned toward us with her nose plugged. “Oh, it smells so bad.”

  “Is she okay?” I asked, still not wanting to step foot into the room.

  “Yeah, she’s in the bathroom,” Bekka said from the doorway. “But this room is trashed.”

  “She vomited all over both the beds,” Lauren explained. “And the carpet. And the bathroom floor. I told her she shouldn’t have eaten the family size nachos at lunch. Fucking jalapenos everywhere.”

  Bekka clapped a hand over her mouth. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  Without saying a word, Liam walked through the door and past my friends, followed closely behind by Bekka. He was braver than me, to take in the scene. The smell of vomit made me want to vomit.

  “What’s he doing?” I whispered to Lauren from the hallway.

  Lauren cocked her head to the side. “He’s stripping the beds. God, that’s disgusting. She even got vomit on the phone.”

  I cringed, thinking of the clean-up that would be involved in that room. “She’s okay though?”

  “She okay?” Lauren asked from the doorway.

  “Yeah, she’
s fine,” I could hear Bekka reply. “I’m going to get her washed up.”

  “I’ll help,” Liam said.

  With my fingers pinched over my nose, I entered the suite and peeked into the room. Both queen beds were indeed stripped of their bedding and towels were placed over the floor leading to the bathroom where Bekka was removing Katy’s shoes.

  “I’m fine,” Katy said, rolling her eyes. “Just got sick.”

  Lauren approached them. “You weren’t even drunk when you left the club, Katy. What the fuck happened?”

  I picked up an empty bottle of vodka on the tv stand and held it up for Bekka and Lauren.

  “Ah.” Lauren frowned. “Kind of a dumb decision, Katy.”

  “No shit,” Katy replied, her mouth in a permanent scowl. “The drinks at that club were overpriced anyway.” Her words were slurred, but she was lucid enough to throw her shoes angrily once they’d been removed from her feet.

  Lauren and I exchanged a look, both of us acknowledging that Katy had chosen the club in the first place.

  I eyed a chunk of tortilla chip near the bathroom door and put my hand over my mouth. Since we hadn’t eaten in the room once, I knew that it was a remnant of Katy’s explosive vomiting episode.

  “I’m fine,” Katy insisted, batting the wet washcloth Liam was wiping across her face.

  “You have vomit in your ear,” Bekka said flatly. “Stay still.”

  Lauren turned to me. “This room’s trashed.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Which means Bekka and Katy are going to have to sleep in our room.”

  Fuck. If Katy woke up and continued vomiting, there’s no way I’d be able to sleep in the same room as her all night. The suite had one uncomfortable couch and two chairs, but no other places where one might be able to sleep.

  “I’ll share a bed with her,” Bekka said, overhearing us. “You guys can share the other bed.”

  “What if she pukes again?” I said, my stomach already protesting the very idea. Besides, despite plugging my nose, the smell had infiltrated the entire suite.

  Katy turned to the toilet, making a retching noise, and that decided it for me. I’d get my own room. There was no way in hell I could last through this night if Katy kept the vomiting up.

  “You could stay with Liam,” Lauren said, volunteering him.

  Without even pausing a beat, Liam—whose attention was focused on mopping up the vomit that seemed to be everywhere—said, “You can. I have two queen beds.”

  “You’re welcome,” Lauren said to me in a whisper.

  I gave her a look.

  “He has two beds,” she whispered again. “But you only need one.” She gave me a wink and then quietly patted herself on the back, pleased with her idea.

  “But it’s our last night,” I said, even though I knew it didn’t matter.

  “We’ll have breakfast in the morning,” Bekka said. “In the hotel restaurant. It’s not like you’ll miss anything until then, except Katy vomiting some more probably.”

  “I’m not gonna vomit more,” Katy said indignantly before turning and spewing again into the toilet.

  Bekka sighed. Lauren turned to me with disgust written clearly across her face. “You lucky bitch,” she whispered without heat. “I have to share a room with her.”

  She had a point.

  Bekka gave Liam a grateful smile. “Thanks, but go on ahead. I’ve got to get these puke-covered clothes off of her.”

  “Ready?” he asked me, standing.

  I nodded, leading the way back out the door. He followed me silently all the way to the elevators.

  “Thanks,” I told him once the doors closed behind us. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “It’s just vomit.” He shrugged.

  “Well, that’s probably my biggest fear. I can’t stand to be around it, I can’t stand vomiting myself. The smell…” I shook my shoulders like I could rid my body of the sensation.

  “I guess when your core group of friends is made up of dudes who think they can drink more than they should, you’re kind of desensitized to someone getting sick.”

  The elevator opened on the fifth floor and I followed Liam out, not really grasping the gravity of the situation until he was sliding his key card over the lock until the light flashed green. I was going to spend the night with Liam.

  I have two queen beds. That’s what he’d said, right? There were no assumptions being made in me following Liam to his room. We could fall asleep in separate beds. As friends.

  I thought of the first kiss we’d had, then the second when he’d said, “My turn,” and then the one in the conservatory and the one in the garden following. Yeah, totally could be just friends, I thought sarcastically.

  “Shit,” I said as Liam emptied his pockets of his wallet and car keys.

  “What?”

  “I didn’t grab my suitcase.” I looked down at the dress that had served as my wedding dress. “I don’t have my pajamas.” The thought of going back up to the vomit-filled room made me feel sick all over again.

  “I’ll give you a t-shirt, if you want?” He moved to the luggage rack where his suitcase lay open. He dug around for a moment before producing a hunter green shirt and tossing it to me. “Here.”

  I caught it and opened it up. “Green Creek Golf Course.”

  “It’s the course my friends and I have been going to for a decade.”

  I rubbed the tee against my cheek. “It’s soft.”

  “It’s been well-worn.”

  “I’ll be right back,” I said, gesturing toward the bathroom at my back.

  “Take your time.” He stripped out of his sport coat and folded it neatly, laying it over the back of a chair as I ducked away into the bathroom.

  Facing my reflection in the mirror, I took a deep breath. “Holy fucking shit.” It was the first time I’d gotten a look at myself since the wedding and I’d definitely looked better. My makeup had been no match for the dry desert heat, so it had all but melted away. I swiped at the smudge of smeared mascara under my eyelids before wetting a washcloth and wiped it off entirely. When my face was relatively clean and pink from the rough fibers of the cloth, I wet it again and started wiping all the spots on my body where sweat had collected. I kicked myself for the second time for forgetting my suitcase. I wanted my toothbrush, my face wash, and my deodorant. I’d have to settle for my finger and a vigorous gargling of mouth wash for the first bit, the cheap hotel-provided soap for my face, and hand sanitizer for my pits. I’d read in a magazine once that hand sanitizer worked in a pinch.

  I slid the straps of the dress down over my shoulders and shimmied my way out of the dress. Folding it carefully, I took in the state of my strapless bra. I didn’t have much to write home about when it came to my boobs, but the strapless bra had protected me from any fashion mishaps that may have happened if the teeny straps on my dress had snapped.

  I debated briefly leaving it on, but the t-shirt Liam had given me to borrow came up to my neck. Even if I bent over, you wouldn’t see anything. Well, at least in the chest region—the ass region was another story.

  The shirt was long enough to cover my ass, but the thong I’d donned under my dress wasn’t exactly a modest thing. So, no bending over.

  I took one final look at myself and at the last minute pulled my hair out of the ponytail so that my blonde locks fell over my shoulders.

  For a moment, I regretted not dancing with Liam at the club. Normally, I’d have embraced dancing like an absolute idiot. But it hadn’t felt right. The wedding had been fun, yes, but more than that it had been serious. And club music exclusively didn’t lend itself to the serious side. It was ridiculous to feel robbed of a first dance when we’d been robbed of a formal reception and cake cutting, too.

  It wasn’t real, I reminded myself as I stared at the silver ring nestled next to the paper one he’d made. The paper ring would surely get crushed if I wore it to bed, so as carefully as possible, I removed it and placed it on top o
f my folded dress. But I kept the silver ring on my finger and closed my fist as if it would slide off on its own volition.

  The sound of music outside of the room called my attention away, back to Liam.

  12

  I put on one of the radio channels on the television. James Bay’s Us came on, a slow, piano-heavy song that suited the mood.

  The soft close of the bathroom door had me turning around, taking Tori in as she stood, staring intently at me. Without the sheen of her makeup or the shiny dress, she looked softer. More vulnerable. Or maybe that was the music and her reaction to it.

  “The club isn’t your scene,” I finally said. “It’s not mine either. But maybe this is?”

  “What do you mean?” She stood by the doorway, as if she was a rabbit debating whether to risk it or run.

  I held my hand out and took one step toward her. “We didn’t get the dance.”

  “The dance.”

  “Look,” I said, coming one step closer to her. “I know it was all fake. I don’t have any presumptions about you or tonight.” I shrugged. “I’ve never married—or fake married—anyone, and I guess I thought we both deserved one dance together.”

  After a pause, her lips curled softly. “Oh, you’re that type.”

  “What’s that type?”

  She stepped forward—once, twice, until she was in my arms. “A romantic,” she said, a small smile curving the corners of her lips.

  Was I? I hadn’t really thought about it. “I guess I am.”

  She pulled back, her face tipped up to mine. “You guess? You made me an engagement ring with paper. You booked a pretty venue—prettier than I deserved. You chose a bouquet for me. You bought real rings.” She looked down at her hand, flipped it over and rubbed her thumb against the underside of the band. “Now, you want to share our first dance.”

  “Albeit belatedly.”

  Her smile grew wider and her hands slid behind me, up my back. “Albeit belatedly,” she echoed. “You are a romantic. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”