The Dare

by Rachel Van Dyken

  "If you wear the fertility necklace at the same time I do, and we sit on the same bed, we'll—" He waved his hand in the air.

  "Sleep?"

  Jace rolled his eyes. "You know… we'll… you know."

  "Do your speeches always go this well, Mr. Senator?"

  "Have sex." he coughed, "and we should probably not, not with the sex."

  "Not with the sex?" I repeated. "Eloquent."

  "I'm sick. Bad fish." He coughed.

  "You're a liar, and you're going to hell."

  "Funny, I told Travis that exact same thing today."

  "No sex?"

  "Cute." He threw a pillow at my face. "No, that I was going to hell."

  "Well, at least Grandma won't be there," I offered cheerfully.

  "Point Jace." He closed his eyes and moaned.

  "Are you really sick?"

  "Do I look sick?"

  He was still in all his clothes but lying across the bed; his eyes had dark circles underneath them, and he looked pale.

  "Kind of."

  "So I look like shit?"

  "Of course not."

  He gave a relieved sigh.

  "Shit looks like Donkey."

  He closed his eyes and mumbled a curse. "It's like the island of misfit toys."

  "And you're the king. Yay, you!" I offered a playful punch to the arm.

  "Jace!" A hard knock sounded at the door. "Jace, it's Grandma! I brought you tea!"

  "Shit!"

  "Hee-haw." I chuckled.

  "Not the time for games, Beth. I'll pay you. I will do anything you want. I'll go find Frank. I'll let Frank bite me — just don't let her think I'm healthy. Please, I can't take one more thing."

  He looked too pitiful. Too beautiful. And honestly? I wanted to be stuck in the room with him. I wanted him all to myself.

  "Lie back."

  "Wait, what are you doing?"

  He struggled against me while I pulled his shirt over his head and pulled the covers over his body.

  "Just a minute, Grandma!" I ran into the bathroom and got some hot water and a washrag. I threw it at Jace's face and whispered, "Fever of a hundred, your muscles ache, you've lost vision in your left eye, are sensitive to loud noises and light, and have a sore throat."

  "So I'm dying?" he snapped.

  "No. You have the flu. Stop being such a guy and cough."

  "Oh, if I had a dollar for every time a doctor told me that."

  I smirked and gave him a pointed stare before marching to the door and throwing it open.

  "Oh Grandma, I'm so glad you cared enough to come, but I have everything totally under control."

  "Do you?" Her eyebrow shot up as she peered around me. "Have you used the honey?"

  "Er, no."

  "Or the onions and mustard?"

  "He's sick, not planning a picnic."

  Grandma pushed past me. "And the tea? Did you make the tea?"

  "Not yet, but—"

  "Move."

  Grandma shoved me aside and breezed into the room, carrying something on a tray. Something that smelled like shit, actual shit, not Donkey.

  "So you say you're sick?" Grandma paced in front of Jace's bed. He had that deer-in-headlights look that people get when they don't know how to lie to save their lives.

  I made wild gestures behind Grandma, grabbing my throat and then touching my forehead and finally covering my left eye. Unfortunately, she chose that exact moment to turn around.

  "What are you doing?"

  "P-pirate."

  "Role play," Jace interjected. "When I was a kid, my dad used to do a pirate voice to make me feel better."

  "Oh, how lovely." Grandma took a seat on the bed. "You may proceed, Beth."

  "Yes, Beth," Jace's stone face cracked into a smile, "proceed. You know how much better it makes my tummy."

  I was going to kill him. No, better yet, I was going to leave him to Grandma, see how he liked her as a nurse when she was stabbing a needle in his godlike ass.

  "Well?" Grandma urged.

  I pasted a smile on my face and swung my arm in front of my body. "Ahoy, matey. Thar be booty t'seek."

  Jace covered his mouth with his hands and started coughing.

  Grandma's face drew together in concern. "Dear, maybe a career in theatre isn't in your future. But who am I to judge? If that makes poor Jace feel better then…" She shrugged. "Besides if that doesn't work, I brought my magic tea."

  "Magic tea?" I asked, peering over her petite shoulder. She lifted the top of the container and pointed inside. "See the chicken feathers?"

  Jace's eyes widened in horror.

  "Why yes," I grinned, "I do."

  "It's an ancient recipe, passed down through my family. What you do is, you boil the feathers in hot water then drink the hot water once the feathers have been boiled for at least eight minutes."

  "Tasty." I almost threw up in my mouth.

  "We should count our lucky stars that the restaurant had some live chickens out back. I plucked a few of these beauts and steamed them right up."

  "I bet Jace is counting his stars right now."

  He flipped me off and glared.

  "Here, Jace," Grandma poured some cloudy liquid into a white cup and handed it to him, "this will make you all better. You do want to get better, don't you?"

  "Yes." His jaw flexed.

  Holy crap. He was going to do it. He was going to drink the tea. I almost didn't want to look, but I couldn't help it. He brought the cup to his lips, took a small sip, and grimaced before pulling it back. A small feather attached itself to his lips.

  "Oh dear, it was a male chicken. I can always tell these things." Grandma pulled the feather from Jace's lips and chuckled. "Back when I sexed chickens, well, it was my job to figure out which was which."

  "Sexed. Chickens?" Jace repeated, his voice hoarse. "That's not a job, Grandma. And I doubt this works."

  You'd think Jace would have already learned his lesson: Never doubt Grandma. And when she says something that just shouts crazy, don't engage. Just back away and leave it alone. Because it was a guarantee that something insane, illogical, and, nine times out of ten, illegal would be shared in her presence.

  "It works, and it is too a job. Want to know how to tell the difference between a female chicken and a male chicken?"

  "No. No, I don't." Jace shook his head. "I'm sick. I want a good night's sleep without visions of you sexing chickens."

  "Not until your tea's finished," Grandma instructed, urging the tea closer to his mouth. He seemed to pale as the cup was brought closer to his lips.

  Jace's eyes darted to mine. I knew that look. It was fear, pure fear. I took pity on the guy; after all, he was drinking feather tea.

  "Tell me, Grandma," I grabbed her hands and had turned her toward me, while behind me, Jace slowly poured the tea into the potted plant next to the bed. We'd just committed murder via feather tea. Poor plant would be lucky to survive the next five minutes, let alone an entire day.

  Best bet, the plant dies or turns into a hybrid chicken plant that Grandma takes credit for discovering.

  My imagination was running away from me. I really needed to get normal friends.

  "Well, the males' are jagged, whereas the females' are smooth," Grandma said, serious as a heart attack. "You see, there's feather sexing and feather venting."

  I had no words.

  Jace cleared his throat, "Venting?"

  "Oh yes." Grandma chuckled. "But there's a school for that."

  I felt my eyes widen in horror as Grandma chuckled and pulled a feather from the giant tea pot.

  "After all, doctors don't graduate high school and start performing surgeries! They need expertise. So do sexers."

  "Is that what they're called?" I shouldn't have asked, but my curiosity was destroying me.

  "Yes." Grandma nodded. "Sexers. But like I said, I wasn't a chicken sexer, per se. I sexed the feathers."

  Jace pursed his lips together. "You… sexed the feathers?"<
br />
  "How does one—"

  "Beth." Jace started coughing wildly.

  "Oh dear!" Grandma reached for the kettle. "Do you need more tea?"

  "No!" Jace and I said in unison.

  "Sleep." Jace yawned. "Beth will take care of me. Promise."

  She turned just as Jace brought the cup back from his lips and held it out. "Well, good job!"

  He beamed.

  I rolled my eyes behind Grandma.

  "Now, I'll leave you to sleep. Beth, if his throat keeps getting sore, be sure to make him a mustard sandwich with onions. It's hell when you wanna kiss your honey goodnight, but it works like a charm. Ta-ta!" She took her tray and left.

  "I think she just killed my stomach." Jace burped and then groaned. "Holy shit, it tastes like chicken feathers. I'm dying! She poisoned me!"

  "Stop being dramatic. She was just trying to help."

  "No, that woman is a lunatic!" he yelled. "Chicken feathers? Sexing chickens? She was trying to call our bluff! Need I remind you that she put Viagra in my tea?"

  "Well you showed her," I said dryly. "So brave."

  "Tell me, Captain Jack, where's the rum?"

  "Arrgh."

  "Nice." Jace laughed. "You sound like a pirate with a cold, and, by the way, your accent sounded like a cross between an Australian and very confused Canadian. Good job, eh?"

  "I hate you."

  "You nicknamed me Thor — you love me." He grinned. "Thanks for taking care of me, by the way, and for helping me kill the plant."

  I should have slit his throat when I had the chance; instead, I picked up a feather.

  "Thirsty?"

  "Are you threatening me?" He seemed amused at the prospect.

  "Yes, better be on your best behavior, or I'm calling Grandma in to nurse you back to health."

  "She'd kill me."

  "I know."

  "My death would be on your hands."

  "I'm aware of that."

  "Asphyxiation via feathers."

  I smirked. "Oregon State Senator Jace Brevik found dead in Hawaiian hut, surrounded by chicken feathers and Viagra."

  His amusement faded before my very eyes. "You don't think she put more… stuff in my tea do you?"

  "Why?" I scooted across the bed and lay down next to him. "You feeling inspired again?"

  "Inspired makes it sound like I'm rarely inspired, which is ridiculous because I'm inspired a hell-of-a-lot more than usual."

  "Maybe it's me," I offered. "Then again, it could be the chickens."

  "Not the chickens, not the pool toys, not any of those things." He reached for my hand and sighed. "I'm sorry, you know."

  "For what?"

  "Everything."

  The room was completely silent except for my stupid heart as it rammed against my chest. He kept holding my hand, and I wondered if it was because he wanted to give me the fairytale, or if it was because he actually wanted to hold it.

  "I shouldn't have run," Jace whispered.

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Prom." He squeezed my hand harder and then pulled me into his lap. "I should have stayed."

  "And done what?" I laughed nervously. "Fought for my honor?"

  "Something like that."

  He dipped his hand into my hair and ran that same warm hand down my neck, sending chills to my toes.

  "It was never that I didn't want to fight — I just hate letting people down. In theory, it sounds good. I don't like people being disappointed in me, but that's only partially the truth. I hate disappointment, but it's only by those I deem worthy of approval in the first place. And because I didn't know you, other than the taste of your lips and heat of your mouth, it wasn't worth it to me. You weren't worth it."

  "Are you trying to make me cry?" My chest felt like an elephant had just decided to camp on it and invited all his friends and family.

  Jace's eyes softened. "I'm trying to apologize."

  "Try harder," I urged.

  "Second chances are rare."

  "Unless you're Grandma and have God's ear. Then you have as many chances as she allows, until she kills you herself."

  "True."

  What was happening, exactly? Was he apologizing for high school, or was he apologizing for now? And why was he looking at me like I'd just declared my undying love for him? Yes. I liked him, possibly loved him now that I'd gotten to know him, but it was more of an irritating love. The kind that pokes you until you finally give up and accept your fate. And I wasn't ready to admit anything yet, especially to the one guy I knew would be walking away from me in a few days.

  "You're my second chance." Bomb officially dropped.

  I wasn't sure whether I was supposed to cry tears of joy or slap him in the face. His grin was cocky, as if I should be thankful that he was finally bleeding his feelings all over the place. I wasn't thankful. I was irritated. Irritated that his epic speech wasn't that he couldn't live without me, but that I'd finally worn him down, like some sort of cold that takes control of your immune system.

  "Say something." He kissed my mouth.

  It was a tie between wanting to kiss Thor back or throw him in the bathtub with his hammer on.

  "Was that it?" I asked calmly.

  "What?"

  "Was that the speech?" I pulled away from him and stood.

  "No?"

  "Is that a question or an answer?"

  "Um," he scratched his head and looked helplessly around the room, "I thought you liked me."

  "Oh, dear Lord." I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. "Of course, I like you. Of course, I believe in second chances, and I accept your apology for partially getting us caught in this fiasco. But Jace," I fought to keep my voice even, "girls don't work that way."

  "What do you mean?"

  "You can't just give us the words and expect a pat on the ass and a cookie."

  "How about just a pat on the ass." He smirked.

  "Be serious!" I almost stomped my foot. Good one. "You expect me to fall all over myself because you said sorry? You expect sex because you want a second chance, yet you haven't even told me why you want one. You said you were walking away in a few days. Is that still true?"

  Jace stood and reached for me, his hands digging into my shoulders as he pulled me into his embrace. "That depends on you."

  "What? So we play at being madly in love, and if it ends up being true, you don't walk away? But if things don't work out, then what? Then I'm left with a broken heart. Don't you see? The problem isn't the second chance. The problem is you want to have your cake and eat it too. You want to test the waters because you want safe. And I'm sick and tired of safe."

  Jace shoved his hands in his pockets, swaying on his feet as if the world had just dropped onto his shoulders. "What do you want?"

  "Danger," I snapped. "Spice. Crazy." My lips trembled. "I want crazy. I-can't-get-you-out-of–my-head lust. I want Romeo-and-Juliet-type of love. I want Mr. Darcy to ride his damn horse into my life. Words aren't enough. I need actions too. And I think I deserve it."

  Jace was oddly silent during my rant. And then his face broke out into a giant grin.

  "Stop smiling." I was about two seconds away from choking the life from his body. Was he making fun of me?

  "Done."

  "Done?" My eyebrows shot up. "What do you mean done? You're going to suddenly Thor yourself all over the place and get romantic?"

  He shrugged.

  "Find a white horse and sword?"

  He shrugged again.

  "Stop shrugging!" This time I did stomp my foot. Yes. I was a thirty-year-old foot-stomper, so sue me. We all have our moments.

  "Let's go." He grabbed my hand.

  I stood my ground.

  So he threw me over his shoulder and marched out the little hut door. And I hated to admit I was grinning like a fool the entire way.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  "Do you think that Mr. Brevik felt outside pressure to romance the young girl?"

  "We
ll, of course he did! Leaving that man to his own devices is like giving a child a quad-shot mocha. They run into walls and scream at the top of their lungs."

  "So in your mind, Mr. Brevik is a child?"

  "He's a man," Grandma said slowly for the agent's benefit.

  "Your point?"

  "Men, children — there is no difference, only that you change one's diapers while the other just lets loose in public."

  "I don't know how to respond to that."

  "Like I said, men."

  Jace

  I was going to need a hell of a lot of Gatorade if I was going to pull everything off. She wanted crazy? I'd give her crazy. There I was, pouring my feelings out all over the place like some Lifetime Christmas movie, and she still wasn't impressed?

  Fine. I'd keep romancing the pants off of her until she realized that I was in it; I wanted a second chance. Then again, I didn't blame her. Why give me a second chance when I'd told her to her face that I was walking away from her?

  I wouldn't trust me either.

  And there was that small problem of my profession.

  "Jace," Beth snapped. I was still carrying her; I liked carrying her. I wasn't putting her down anytime soon.

  "Shh…" I slapped her ass. "I'm thinking. Don't interrupt a man when he's thinking."

  "I want to lick you."

  I tripped and almost went sailing into the wall. All thoughts left my mind. All thoughts except her tongue on me, my tongue in her mouth, licking. Lots of licking.

  "Why'd we stop walking?" Beth said innocently.

  I slapped her ass again. "You'll pay for that."

  "Yes, please."

  More licking.

  "Damn it, Beth!" I huffed. "Stop doing that."

  "What?"

  "That," I grumbled, setting her on her feet. Now climb.

  "Climb?"

  I turned her around and pointed to the cliff. "Climb."

  "You're kidding, right?"

  The cliff was a rocky climb. It led to a ledge that was about thirty feet high. I'd seen locals jumping from the cliff for the past few days and figured if they could do it without dying, we could too. She wanted crazy? This was insane.

  "Nope." I crossed my arms. "Not kidding. Where's your sense of adventure?"

  "Must have left it back at the hut with your feather tea," she said through clenched teeth.