Double Dog Dare You

by Lacey Black

  My mind goes right back to the mystery man out for a run. I saw him coming down the street. That’s actually when I dropped my glass and spilled it. That moment he crossed through the light of the streetlamp. Thank God it was a heavy tumbler or I’m sure the glass would have shattered like…well, a glass. Probably a cheap one, but you understand my analogy. Anyway, I saw a man running my way, his long, muscular legs carrying him so effortlessly up the slight incline of my street, and my heart actually skipped a beat. If I were in the medical field, I may have been concerned by the palpitation, but since it started back up again and warmth flooded between my legs, I figured I was fine.

  Damn, I wish I had more tequila.

  Instead, I grab my bag and return to the porch, drinkless. There are a few reports I need to review before Thursday’s board of education meeting, as well as pick a winner for our monthly Student Inspiration Award. As the principal of Grace Private School, I’ve implemented many programs for our students to participate in throughout the school year. They vary from volunteer work outside of school to different options while in school, in addition to the standard sports and clubs.

  This particular award is presented to one student nominated by a teacher who has shown leadership and personal growth throughout the previous month, and the reward is of their choosing within the community, within reason, of course. Last month’s winner wanted to ride go-carts at a local outdoor facility, which I granted. The month before was a special pizza luncheon to share with her entire class. I happily purchased those pies, and even threw in cookies. That leaves me to pick this month’s winner.

  I start reading the nominations, focusing on the reasoning for the nomination, instead of the name and their reward request. Already, one stands out above the rest. An individual who has volunteered in another class during his study hall and spent time reading to younger students, who has worked hard and brought a struggling math grade up to a B plus. A young man who works part time after school at a local hotdog stand because he befriended the owner, who’s older and in poor health. I’m smiling as I award Logan Hendershot the Student Inspiration Award for this month.

  That’s when I look at his reward request.

  Ziplining down the Smoky Mountains.

  Say what?

  I’ve never taken a student ziplining, never thought it’d be even a possibility. How am I going to submit this request to the superintendent? There’s no way he’d allow it, right? I mean…it’s ziplining for goodness sakes.

  I toss the paper on top of the pile and massage my throbbing temple.

  Ziplining.

  Seriously?

  Who wants to suspend themselves from a rope and dash down the mountain at rapid speeds? Not a sane person, that’s for sure.

  Sighing, I really regret not having that drink now. Maybe I’ll take the gorgeous stranger’s advice and drive over to the liquor store. I mean, I barely had two sips before I dumped the rest of it on the porch. Well, at least I don’t have to go with him. I mean, I’ve always paid for the reward, but never actually participated. And his parents might not even sign off on the request, so maybe I’m getting myself all worked up over nothing.

  I close my eyes and take a deep cleansing breath. I’m definitely in need of a yoga class right about now. Between the long day at school, my ancient cell phone breaking and losing all of my contacts, and then my crappy first date with Gill, a security guard at Dollywood, I’m feeling a little tense. And not in the good way as a result of seeing Gill’s flaccid penis in live Technicolor on his cell phone screen.

  I shiver.

  Who whips out a picture of their soft dick and just shows it to a woman they’ve just met?

  Apparently, Gill the security guard does.

  I snort a laugh.

  It wasn’t even a nice soft penis. It was small and wrinkly and sat sadly between his hairy thighs like a baby mole.

  Deciding to pack it up before I give myself nightmares, I slip back into my house and secure the front door. I should definitely try to figure out my new phone, but I just don’t have the patience to deal with a new smartphone, especially when the Blackberry I’ve had for nearly seven years worked just fine. Until it didn’t. And because my device was so old, it wouldn’t upload anything into my Cloud account, including photos and contacts.

  Good thing I had Sabrina’s number memorized.

  Instead of dealing with my phone and the reports due on Thursday, I decide a long hot bath is in order before bed. It’ll give me an opportunity to try out that new jasmine bubble bath I found at a little shop at the edge of town. Then, and only then, might I be able to put this horrid day behind me.

  Tomorrow will surely be better, right?

  ***

  Me: I think I’m going to need some sort of class to figure this new phone out.

  I set the device on my counter and fill my coffee cup. I still don’t know how anything works really, but at least I can send a text. A text I’m sure will go unanswered for at least another hour. Sabrina isn’t exactly a morning person like me. In fact, she doesn’t understand why any rational person would even want to get up at five in the morning, let alone comprehend it’s the most perfect time of the day. The sky is still dark and calm, while the city sleeps beneath it. Wildlife is starting to rise and scrounge for breakfast. Other morning people like me are turning on coffee pots, inhaling the sweet aroma of brewing the first cup of Joe. It’s the most glorious time of day.

  My favorite.

  I’m surprised when the phone chimes a response. Setting my cup down, I smile at her reply.

  Sabrina: I may have to agree with you there.

  Me: What are you doing up?

  Sabrina: It’s the best time of the day.

  Me: Seriously? Don’t make fun of me.

  Sabrina: I would never. If you’re not up and running by six, you’ve already missed the best part. *insert shocked face emoji*

  “The sunrise,” I whisper aloud, confused by her response. Sabrina is a night owl, so why the hell is she acting like mornings are her thing?

  Me: Don’t mock. It’s not becoming. *insert laughing emoji* *insert fishing pole* *insert birthday cake*

  What the hell? How did I do that?

  Sabrina: What does that mean? Are you having a fishing party that you’re inviting me to?

  I snort out a laugh.

  Me: Me? Fishing?

  Sabrina: Might be fun… *insert big fish emoji*

  Me: I thought you hated to fish. The smell, the worms, the sunburn because you always forget sunscreen.

  Sabrina: Do I?

  I roll my eyes.

  Me: You know you do. Your pasty complexion is no match for UV rays.

  Sabrina: I see…

  I grab a slice of wheat bread and pop it into the toaster. While it does its thing, I grab the jar of apple butter from the refrigerator and slather it on nice and thick when breakfast pops up. Two bites in, my phone chimes with another text. I can’t help but wonder if maybe she’s just going to bed…

  Sabrina: Can I tell you something?

  Me: Of course.

  Sabrina: It might upset you a little.

  Now, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Sabrina has a brilliant mind, but sometimes she acts before she thinks. It’s one of the reasons she lost her job at a clothing boutique in town. Not all customers like being told their new dress makes their ass look bigger than a double-wide.

  Me: What did you do?

  Sabrina: It’s not so much me, but you…

  Me: Me? What did I do, Sabrina?

  Sabrina: This isn’t Sabrina.

  That gives me pause. Not Sabrina? What does that mean?

  Me: I don’t understand.

  Sabrina: My name is Rigsby and you texted my phone by accident last night. I don’t know a Sabrina.

  Suddenly, I start laughing. I take a bite of my breakfast before my fingers move over the image of the keyboard on my screen.

  Me: Ha, ha, very funny.

  Sabrina: I�
��m not joking. My friends call me Rigsby, my last name, and I live in Gatlinburg. I moved here a few years back. I’d happily send a pic, but I know you’re not a fan of dick pics… *insert winky face emoji*

  I stare at the screen in horror. No way I’ve been texting some random guy when I thought I was messaging Sabrina, right? I mean, I know I lost all of my contacts when my ancient phone died, but…

  And then a picture message pops up on the screen. With shaky fingers, I click on the download and wait for it to complete. When it does, I bust out laughing. There on my phone is a picture of a crotch—covered, thankfully, in cotton sweatpants—and it most definitely isn’t Sabrina’s.

  It’s very male and very…large.

  And not even hard.

  My entire face bursts into flames as I gape at the image. Why is this image of a stranger in sweatpants better than any dick pic I’ve ever received?

  Sabrina: Believe me now? I’m sure your friend isn’t sporting… *inserts eggplant emoji*

  I can’t stop the giggle.

  Me: No, I’m pretty sure she isn’t. I can’t believe I’ve been texting a stranger.

  Sabrina: Well, if it makes you feel better, you don’t feel like a stranger anymore.

  Weird, it doesn’t. I click on the name at the top of the phone and edit the information. I delete my best friend’s name and replace it with a new one. Rigsby. When it updates, I go back to our text exchange and read it all with fresh eyes. He never led me to believe he was Sabrina, that I can tell. Rigsby spoke to me as himself, just failed to actually confess his real identity.

  Rigsby: Well, you probably need some time to come to terms with the fact your new BFF is a hot dude, and I have to head to work. I’ll talk to you later.

  Me: You’re not just going to delete me?

  Rigsby: Hell no, I’ve added you to my phone. We’re official.

  Me: Official what?

  Rigsby: Official besties. I’ll get us necklaces after work. Bye!

  I can’t control the smile on my face. Why am I smiling? I don’t even know who Rigsby is.

  I set my phone down on the counter and finish my cold toast. As soon as my mess is cleaned up, I gather my stuff and head out the door for school. I’m always in my office by seven getting as much done as possible. You never know how many interruptions you’ll receive during a typical school day, both from students and teachers.

  The day passes in a flurry of gathering final bids to have the gym floor redone and making sure the bus drivers’ contract is renewed with our transportation partner. Throw in an assembly on making healthy choices and an early dismissal, and I’ve never been happier to be pulling into the yoga studio on Oak Street. I’ve been coming here for a little over three years now after attending a class with Sabrina. I was hooked by my first downward dog.

  I grab the bag I keep in my trunk with extra workout clothes and head inside the small building. Crystal, the owner, is there to greet me with a wide grin as I slip past a few students congregating off to the side, and head into the locker room. A quick change of clothes and I’m set. My hair is already up, in a no-nonsense bun. It’s my hairstyle of choice during the week, unless I have something lined up.

  Like a date.

  And even I try to limit those to only when necessary during the workweek.

  With my mat and water bottle, I head out and start to stretch.

  “I can’t believe I didn’t hear from you last night,” Sabrina bellows as she flops on the floor beside me. “I’m assuming the lack of communication meant it went well, and you were indisposed,” she adds with a giggle.

  “That or he was an axe murderer and I was his latest victim,” I whisper-yell as I reach for the toes on my right foot, stretching out my leg.

  Sabrina seems to stop and consider it. “Well, considering you’re not chopped into tiny pieces, I take it the date went well.” She gives me her trademark grin.

  Exhaling a deep breath, I reply, “No, it didn’t go well.” I glance around and confirm no one is too close. “He whipped out his phone and showed me his dick before we even finished the appetizer,” I huff.

  Sabrina’s eyes widen, almost comically, before she bursts into fits of laughter. “Shut. Up. You’re kidding me, right?”

  I stretch my left leg, feeling the burn as it spreads from my calf to my butt. “I wish I were,” I mumble, sticking both legs out and reaching for my toes.

  She leans in and asks, “Was it a nice one?”

  I laugh without humor. “Uhh, no, Sabrina, it was definitely not a nice one. It was…you know what, I’m not even getting into this with you right now.”

  “Why not? I want to know the details,” she insists, conducting her own stretches beside me.

  “No, believe me, you don’t. It wasn’t a pretty one, Rina.”

  She just looks at me with sad eyes. “He was so cute though.”

  “Yeah, apparently cute doesn’t equal impressive penis.”

  Crystal heads to the front of the room to start our group stretches. Sabrina and I follow along, but I’m unable to focus on anything with my best friend chirping beside me. “I can’t believe you didn’t let me know last night.”

  I huff. “I did.”

  She glances at me, a confused look on her face. “No, you didn’t.”

  I roll my eyes. “I know now I didn’t, but at the time, I thought I did.”

  Sabrina stares at me with a blank look on her face. “That makes no sense.”

  “Remember how I told you my Blackberry finally broke? When I went to the store to get a replacement, it wouldn’t even backup anything, but I thought that was okay because I have all the main numbers I need memorized.” I push up from the floor and stretch out my back.

  “Okay,” she encourages me to continue.

  “So, I programmed in your number when I got home from my date and sent you a message. Turns out, it wasn’t your number.”

  Sabrina gets into our first position and holds it for a count of ten. As she exhales slowly, she asks, “So who’s number was it?”

  The moment I suck in another breath, I reply, “Some guy named Rigsby.”

  Her eyebrows pull together. “That’s a horrible name.”

  “His last, he said.”

  “That’s hideous. I bet he’s ugly. Probably five foot eight with a potbelly and bad toupee.”

  “I don’t think so,” I reply before I can recall the words. After the photo he sent, I’m pretty sure there’s no potbelly. I’m pretty sure there’s not an ounce of fat on him anywhere.

  I can feel her eyes on me but refuse to look her way. Instead, I close my eyes and try to concentrate on relaxing, on my poses, and on letting the tension of the day go. Instead, the moment my eyes are closed, I see Rigsby. Well, specifically, I see the image he texted me this morning in his gray sweatpants. It wasn’t a dick pic, but it wasn’t not one either. It was…wow. I don’t know what it is about a pair of well-hung sweatpants that does weird things to female libidos everywhere.

  “Why did you just get this weird look on your face?” she whispers.

  Opening my eyes, I glance her way. “What look? And why aren’t your eyes closed?”

  “You had this look like someone just gave you a double scoop ice cream cone on a hot summer day.”

  “You’re dumb,” I tell her, closing my eyes so she can’t tell how right she was.

  Sabrina giggles softly. “And you’re into him.”

  I huff out another deep breath. “That’s absurd. I don’t even know him.” I change positions with Crystal, trying to ignore the chirping bird at my side.

  “No, but you want to,” she singsongs, mirroring my pose and exhaling.

  When our class comes to an end, I hop off my mat and roll it up, grabbing my water bottle and bag. “Give me your phone,” Sabrina says.

  “Why?”

  She rolls her eyes dramatically at me. “I’m going to program in my number—the correct one, silly.” I reach into my bag and pull out my fancy new phone.
“Wow, look at you! Stepping into the twenty-first century,” she teases as she taps away at the screen. After only a handful of seconds, she hands it back. “Done.”

  I slip it back into my bag. “Thank you.”

  “Now, you’ll actually text me and not some strange guy. Unless, that’s your thing now.”

  I’m already shaking my head. “No, definitely not. That was a one-time accident.”

  She just grins. “We’ll see,” she sings, following me through the front door. “Wanna grab dinner later this week?”

  “Sure” I reply, unlocking my car with my fob. “I have a board meeting Thursday night, but am free this weekend.”

  Sabrina pulls a face. “Of course you are. Saturday night it is! Maybe, I’ll invite those two guys from the coffee shop down the block to join us,” she says, waggling her eyebrows. “They’re so flirty.”

  “Stop. Just us.”

  “We’ll see,” she repeats before sliding into her own vehicle and driving away.

  I toss my bag into my car and climb in, hating the warmth filtering through the vents instead of cool air. I contemplate stopping for some takeout, but ultimately decide to just head home. A long shower and maybe a southwest chicken salad are what’s in store for me tonight. Plus, reruns of Friends.

  As I pull into my short driveway, something at the front door catches my eye. There’s a brown bag there. I climb out and glance around, not really sure what I’m looking for, but when I don’t see anything out of the ordinary, I slowly make my way up my steps. The paper bag is wrinkled and twisted closed at the top. Carefully, I reach down and retrieve it, surprised by how heavy it is. There’s a note on the paper bag, scrolled in penmanship that rivals a physician’s.

  So you can take your bra off. Enjoy!

  Deciding to go ahead and open it out here, I pull apart the twisted paper and glance inside. A hearty laugh pulls from my chest as I reach in and remove the bottle of liquor. The man from last night. He’s the only one who would have left me this gift.

  Smiling, I unlock my door and slip inside, anxious to open my new bottle of tequila.

  Chapter Three

  Royce